(iiuucll lluniin'.alii liluaiij 
 
 CEOHEOn^Y 
 
 
 #^v y 
 
97»4 
 
CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 3 1924 086 013 
 
 45 
 
The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924086013145 
 
ALFRED ALLURED TO READ BY HIS MOTHER. 
 
YEAR BOOK 
 
 OF 
 
 DAILY RECREATION AND INFORMATION ; 
 
 CONCERNING 
 
 REMARKA.BLS MEN AND SIANNERS, ' 
 
 TIMES AND SEASONS, 
 
 ANTIQUITIES AND NOVELTIES, 
 
 ON THE FLAN Or THE 
 
 KVBRY.IkAY BOOK AWD TABIiX: BOOH., 
 
 OR 
 
 EVERLASTING CALENDAR OP POPULAR AMUSEMENTS, SPORTS, PASTIMES, 
 CEREMONIES, CUSTOMS, AND EVENTS, JNCIDBNT TO EACH OF - 
 THE THREE HUNDRED AND BIXTY-FIVE DAYS 
 IN PAST AND PRESENT TIMES J 
 
 FORMING A 
 
 COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE YEAR; 
 
 AND A 
 
 PERPETUAL KEY TO THE ALMANACK. 
 
 BY WILLIAM HONE. 
 
 Old ('uBtoms ! Oh, 1 love tbe aound ; 
 
 However iimple they may be : 
 Wbate'er with time hath aanction rounds 
 
 Is welcome, aud is dear to me. 
 Pride grows above Bimplicity, , 
 
 And apurns them rrom her baugnty miud, 
 And aoon the poet*B song will be 
 
 The only refuBe they can find. 
 
 Clare. 
 
 WITH ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 LONDON: 
 PRNTED FOR THOMAS TEGG AND SON, 73, CHEAPSIDE ; 
 
 B. GRIFFIN AND CO. GLASGOW J T. T. AND H. TEGG, DUBLIN: 
 ALSO, J. AND S. A. TEGG, SYDNEY AND HOBART TOWN. 
 
 1838. 
 

 ft^aou^r 
 
 7^-AjfMm £tmc^^J^- 
 
 
 i. HiDuON, Trlnkr, CaslK- Siren, FitifNu.-. 
 (1 •. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Alfred the Great Was twelve years old before he could read. He had ad- 
 mired a beautifully illuminated book of Saxon poetry in his mother's hands, 
 and she allured him to learn by promising him the splendid volume as a 
 reward. From that hour he diligently improved himself ; and^ in the end, 
 built up his mind so strongly, and so high, and applied its powers so 
 beneficially to his kingdom, that no monarch of the thousand years since his 
 rule attained to be reputed, and called, like Alfred, the great. He always 
 carried a book in his bosom, and amidst the great business ana hurries of 
 government, snatched moments of leisure to read. In the early part of his 
 reign, he was 
 
 Cast flora the pedestal of pride by shocks. 
 Which Nature gently gave, in woods and fields. 
 
 Invaded, overwhelmed, and vanquished by foreign enemies, he was com- 
 pelled to fly for personal safety, and to retreat alone, into remote wastes and 
 forests: — "learning policy from adversity, and gathering courage from 
 misery," 
 
 Where living things, and things inanimate, 
 
 Do speak, at Heaven's command, to eye and ear. 
 
 And speak to social reason's inner sense, 
 
 With inarticulate language. 
 
 — For the man 
 
 Who, in this spirit, communes with the forma 
 
 Of Nature, who, with understanding heart, 
 
 Doth know and love such objects as excite 
 
 No morbid passions, no disquietude. 
 
 No vengeance, and no hatred, needs must feel 
 
 The joy of the pure principle of Love 
 
 So deeply, that, unsatisfied with aught 
 
 Less pure and exquisite, he cannot choose 
 
 But seek for objects of a kindred love 
 
 In fellow nature, and a kindred joy. — 
 — Contemplating these forms. 
 
 In the relation which they bear to man. 
 
 He shall discern, how, through the various means 
 
 Which silently they yield, are multiplied 
 
 The spiritual presences of absent things. 
 
 Convoked by knowledge ; and for his delight 
 
 Still ready to obey the gentle call.— 
 
 Thus deeply drinking in the Soul of Things 
 
 We shall be wise perforce ; and while inspired 
 
 By choice, and conscious that the will is free, 
 
 Unswerving shall we move, as if impelled 
 
 By strict necessity, along the path 
 
 Of order and of good. Whate ei we see, 
 
 Whate'er we feel, by agency direct 
 
 Or indirect shall tend to feed and nurse 
 
 Onr faculties, shall- fix in calmer seats 
 
 Of moral strength, and raise to loftier heights 
 
 Of Love Divine, our Intellectual Sou». 
 
 Warinwatth, 
 
 Alfred became our greatest legislator, and pre-eminently our patriot king . 
 for when he had secured the independence of the nation, he ngimy enforced 
 au impartial administration of justice ; renovated the energies of his subjects 
 bv popular institutions for the preservation of life, property and order ; 
 secnreS public liberty upon the basis of law; lived to see the prosperity ot 
 the people, and to experience their affection for the commonwealth ot the 
 
kingdom ; and died so convinced of their loyalty, that he wrote in liia last 
 will, "The English have an undoubted right to remain free as their owr 
 thoughts."' It was one of his laws that freemen should train their sons " to 
 know God, to be men of understanding, and to live happily." The whole 
 policy of his government was founded upon "the beginning of Wisdom.' 
 The age was simple, and the nation poor ; but the people were happy. 
 Little was known of the arts, and of science less. A monarch's state-car- 
 riage was like a farmer's waggon, and his majesty sat in it holding in his 
 hand a long stick, having a bit of pointed iron at the top, with which he 
 goaded a team of oxen yoked to the vehicle. 
 
 Ours is an age of civilization and refinement, in which art has arrived to 
 excellence, and science has erected England into a great work-house for the 
 whole world. The nation is richer than all the other nations of Europe, and 
 distinguished from them by Mammon-worship, and abject subserviency to 
 Mammon-worshippers , the enormous heaps of wealth accumulated by unblest 
 means ; the enlarging radius of indigence around every Upas-heap ; the 
 sudden and fierce outbreakings of the hungry and ignorant; and, more than 
 all, a simultaneous growth of selfishness with knowledge ; are awful signs of 
 an amalgamation of depravity with the national character. Luxury prevails in 
 all classes : private gentlemen live " like lords," tradesmen and farmers like 
 gentlemen, and there is a universal desire to " keep up appearances," which 
 situatiens in life- do not require, and means cannot afford. The getters and 
 keepers of BUHiey want more and get more ; want more of more, and want 
 and get, and get and want, and live and die— wanting happiness. Thought- 
 less alike of their uses as human beings, and their final destiny, many of 
 them exhibit a cultivated intellect of a high order, eagerly and heartlessly 
 engaged in a misery-making craft. Are these " the English" coatemplated 
 by Alfred ? ' 
 
 Life's Autumn past, 1 stand on Winter's verge, 
 
 And daily lose what I desire to keep ; 
 
 Yet rather would I instantly decline 
 
 To the traditionary sympathies 
 
 Of a most rustic ignorance 
 
 • ■ — — — than see and hear 
 
 The repetitions wearisome of sense. 
 
 Where soul is dead, and feeling halh no place ; 
 
 Where knowledge, ill begun in cold remark 
 
 On outward things, with formal inference ends ; 
 
 Or if the mind turns inward 'tis perplexed, 
 
 Lost in a gloom of uninspired research ; 
 
 Meanwhile, the Heart within the Heart, the seat 
 
 Where peace and happy consfiiousness should dwell. 
 
 On its own axis restlessly revolves. 
 
 Yet no where finds the cheering light of truth, 
 
 Wordsvrmlh. 
 Most ol us may fand, that we have much to unlearn: yet eril indeed 
 must we be, if we do not desire that our children may not be worse for what 
 they earn from us, and what they gather from their misocHaneous reading. 
 In selecting materials for the Every-Day Book, and Table Booh, I aimed to 
 avoid What might injure the youthful mind; and in the Year Book there is 
 somethmgmore than in those works, of what seemed suitable to ingenuous 
 i^A l,!r^ ''li ^ »^^ endeavoured to supply omissions upon sub- 
 ITd r„ Jw ? f^^^^y ^"f ''''d the Table BookZL designed to^nclude ; 
 and, in that, I have been greatly assisted by very kind correspondents. 
 
 13, Graceehurch-street, January, 1832. HONE. 
 
THE" 
 
 YEAR BOOK. 
 
 Vot. I.-1 
 
 JANUARY. 
 
 Now, musing o'er the changing scone 
 
 Farmers behind the tavern-screen 
 
 Collect;— with elbow idly press d 
 
 On hob, reclines the corner's gusst, 
 
 Reading the news, to mark again 
 
 The bankrupt lists, or price of grain. 
 
 Puffin" the while his red-tipt pipe, 
 
 He dreams o'er tioubles nearly ripe; 
 
 Yet, winter's leisure to regale, 
 
 Hopes better times, and sips his ale. r r i. i 
 
 B 
 
3 THE YlEAil BOOK.— JANUARY. 4 
 
 With an abundance of freshly accumu- antiouity, or a man's self. The most 
 
 lated materials, and my power not less- bustling are not the busiest. The " fool i 
 
 cned, for adventuring in the track pursued the forest" was not the melancholy Jaques : 
 
 in the Every-Duy Book, I find, gentle he bestowed the betrothed couples, ve- 
 
 reader, since we discoursed in that work, commended them to pastime, and with- 
 
 that the world, and all that is therein, have drew before the sports began. My pre- 
 
 changed —I know not how much, nor sent do'ings are not with the great busi- 
 
 whether to the disadvantage of my present ness that bestirs the world, yet I calculate 
 
 purpose. It is my intention, however, to on many who are actors in passing events 
 
 persevere in my endeavours to complete a finding leisure to Recreate with the commg 
 
 popular and full record of the customs, pages, where will be found many things 
 
 the seasons, and the ancient usages of our for use, several things worth thinking over, 
 
 country. various articles of much amusement, 
 
 Each new year has increased my early nothing that I have brought together 
 
 likings, and my love for that quiet without before, and a prevailing feeling which is 
 
 which research cannot be made either into well described in these verses — 
 
 POWER AND GENTLENESS. 
 
 I've thought, in gentle and ungentle hour. 
 
 Of many an act and giant shape of power ; 
 
 Of the old kings with high exacting looks. 
 
 Sceptred and globed ; of eagles on their rocks 
 
 With straining feet, and that fierce mouth and drear, 
 
 Answering the strain -with downward drag austere ; 
 
 Of the rich-headed lion, whose huge frown, 
 
 All his great nature, gathering, seems to crown ; 
 
 Then of cathedral, with its priestly height. 
 
 Seen from below at superstitious sight ; 
 
 Of ghastly castle, that eternally 
 
 Holds its blind visage out to the lone sea; 
 
 And of all sunless subterranean deeps 
 
 The creature makes, who listens while he sleeps, 
 
 Avarice ; and then of those old earthly cones 
 
 That stride, they say, over heroic bones ; 
 
 And those stone heaps Egyptian, whose small doors 
 
 Look like low dens under precipitous shores ; 
 
 And him great Memnon, that long sitting by 
 
 In seeming idleness, with stony eye. 
 
 Sang at the morning's touch, like poetry ; 
 
 And then of all the fierce and bitter fruit 
 
 Of the proud planting of a tyrannous foot ; — 
 
 Of bruised rights, and flourishing bad men ; 
 
 And virtue wasting heav'nwards from a den ; 
 
 Brute force and fury ; and the devilish drouth 
 
 Of the fool cannon's ever- gaping mouth ; 
 
 And the bride widowing sword ; and the harsh bray 
 
 The sneering trumpet sends across the fray ; 
 
 And all which lights the ptople-thinning star 
 
 That selfishness invokes, — the horsed war 
 
 Panting along with many a bloody mane. 
 
 I've thought of all this pride and all this pam, 
 And all the insolent plenitudes of power. 
 And I declare, by this most quiet hour. 
 Which holds, in different tasks, by the fire-light. 
 Me and my friends here this delightful night. 
 That Power itself has not one half the might 
 Of Gentleness. 'Tis want to all true wealth, 
 The uneasy madman's force to the wise health; 
 Blind downward beating, to the eyes that see ; 
 Noise to persuasion, doubt to certainty; 
 
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY. 
 
 The consciQusness of strength in enemies, 
 
 Who must be strained upon, or else they rise , 
 
 The battle 'to the moon, who all therwhile 
 
 High out of hearing passes with her smile ; 
 
 The Tempest, trampling in his scanty run, 
 
 To the whole globe, that basks about the sun ; 
 
 Or as all shrieks and clangs, with which asphere. 
 
 Undone and fired, could rake the midnight ear, 
 
 Compared with that vast dumbness nature keeps 
 
 Throughout her million starried deeps, 
 
 Most old,, and mild, and awful, and unbroken, 
 
 Which tell» a tale of peace, beyond whate'er was spoken. 
 
 *. Literary Po'cket Book, 1 8 1 B, 
 
 Certain Festival Days were believed, 
 formerly ,to prognosticate the weather of the 
 coming year; and, although the alteration 
 of the style, by removing each festival about 
 twelve days forwarder in the calendar, 
 created great confusion in the application 
 of these prognostications, yet many an 
 ignorant husbandman and astrologer still 
 consults the " critical days. " 
 
 It is not however the particular day, 
 but the partieular-'time of year, which 
 justifies an -expectation of particular 
 weather. 
 
 There are weather prognostics derived 
 from St. Vincent's' Day, January 22d; St, 
 Paurs,January25th ; Candlemas, February 
 2d ; St. John, June 24th ; St. Swithin, 
 July 15th ; and St. Simon and Jude, Oc- 
 tober 28th. But, to render the prognostics 
 concerning these or any other days valid 
 and consistent, a constant relation should 
 subsist between the phenomena of each in 
 every year. ■ This is not the case, and 
 therefore, if there were no other reason, the 
 fallacy of relying on the weather of any 
 particular day is obvious. 
 
 It is true that certain critical changes of 
 the weather usually' take place,, atadneer- 
 tain well known plants begiri- to' flower 
 in abundance, about the time of certain 
 festival days ; yet these marks of the year 
 are connected only, because the festivals 
 were appointed to be celebrated at the 
 weather-changing and plant-blowing sea- 
 sons. 
 
 The fragrant coltsfoot in mild seasons 
 has the greatest quantity of its flowers at 
 Christmas. 
 
 The dead nettle is generally in flovrer 
 on St. Vincent's Day, January 22d. 
 
 The wimer hellebore usually flowers, 
 in mild weather, about the conversion of 
 St. Paul, January 25th. 
 
 The snowdrop is almost proverbially 
 constant to Candlemas' Day, or the 
 Purifltation, Febroary 2d. The mildness 
 or severity of the weather seems to 
 make but little difference in the time of 
 its appearance ; it comes up blossoming 
 through the snow, and appears to evolve 
 its white and pendant flowers, as if by the 
 most determined periodical laws. 
 
 The yellow spring crocus generally 
 flowers about St. Valentine's Day, Feb- 
 ruary 14th ; the white and blue species 
 come rather later. 
 
 The favorite daisy usually graces the 
 meadows with its small yellow and white 
 blossoms about February 22d, the festival 
 day of St. Margaret of Cortona, whence 
 it is still called in France La Belle Mar- 
 guerite, and in England Herb Margaret. 
 
 The early daffodil blows about St. 
 David's Day, March 1st, and soon covers 
 the fields with its pendant .yellow cups. 
 
 The pilewort usually bespangles the 
 banks and shaded sides of fields with its 
 gcSden stars about St. Perpetua, March 7th. 
 i ,A,bout March 18th, the Day of St. Ed- 
 ward, th6% magnificent crown imperial 
 blows. • 
 
 The cardamine first flowers about 
 March 25th, the festival of the Annuncia- 
 tion, commonly called Lady Day. Like 
 the snowdrop it is regarded as the emblem 
 of virgin purity, from its whiteness. 
 . The Marygoli. is .so called from a 
 fancied resemblance of the florets ofrits 
 disk to the rays of glory diffused by artists, 
 from the. Virgin's' head. 
 • The. violetsj heartseases, and prim- 
 roses, continual companions of spring, 
 observe less regular periods, and blo\y 
 much; longer. - . 
 
 About April 23d, St. George's Day, the 
 blue "bell or field hyacinth, covers the 
 B2 
 
THE YEAR BOOK.— .TANUARY. 
 
 fields and uplana pastures with its bril- 
 liant blue — an emblem. of' the patron 
 saint of England — which poets feigned to 
 braid the bluehaired Oceanides of our 
 seagirt isle. 
 
 The whitethorn used, in the old style, 
 to flower about St. Phijip and St. James, 
 May 1st, and thence was called May; but 
 now the blackthorn is hardly out by the 
 first of that month. 
 
 At the Invention of the Cross, May 3d, 
 the poetic Narcissus, as well as the primrose 
 peerless, are usually abundant in the 
 southern counties of England ; and about 
 this season Flora begins to be so lavish of 
 her beauties, that the holiday wardrobe'of 
 her more periodical handmaids is lost 
 amidst the dazzle of a thousand " quaint 
 and enamelled eyes," which sparkle on 
 her gorgeous frontlet. Plants of surpass- 
 ing beauty are blowing every hour, 
 
 And on the green turf suck the honied showers, 
 An-i purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 
 
 The whole race of tulips come to per-' 
 fection about the commemoration of St. 
 John the Evangelist ante portum. May 6th, 
 and the fields are yellow with the crow- 
 foots. The brilliant light red monkey 
 poppy, the glowing crimson peony, the 
 purple of the German iris, and a thou- 
 sand others are added daily. A different 
 tribe of plants begin to succeed, which 
 may be denominated solstitial. 
 
 The yellow flag is hoisted by the sides 
 of ponds and ditches, about St. Nico- 
 mede, June 1st. 
 
 The poppies cast a red mantle over the 
 fields an-i corn lands about St. Barnabas, 
 June 11th. 
 
 The bright scarlet lychnis flowers about 
 June 24th, and hence a poet calls this 
 plant Candeluh'um ingens, lighted up for 
 St. John the Baptist : it is one of the 
 most regular tokens of the summer sol 
 stice. 
 
 The white lily expands its candied 
 bells about the festival of the Visitation, 
 July 2d. 
 
 The roses of midsummer remain in 
 perfection until they fade about the feast 
 of St. Mary Magdalen, July 22d. 
 ■ Many similar coincidences might be 
 instituted between remarkable days in the 
 calendar and the host of summer and 
 autamnal flowers down to the michaelmas 
 daisy, 'atid various ancient documents 
 might be adduced to show a former pre- 
 vailing belief in the influence of almost 
 every festival on the oeriodical- blowing 
 
 of plants. For, in the middle or dark 
 agesi the mind fancied numberless signs 
 and emblems, which increase the list ot 
 curious antiquities and popular super- 
 stitions in " the short and simple annals 
 of the poor." The persuasion which oc- 
 cupied and deluded men's minds in the 
 past days are still familiarly interwoven 
 with the tales and legends of infancy 
 —that fairy time of life, when we won- 
 der at all we see, and our curiosity, is 
 most gratified by that which is most mar- 
 vellous.* 
 
 THE MONTHS 
 
 January. ■ 
 
 ho, my fair ! the morning lazy 
 Peeps abroad from yonder hill j 
 
 Phcebus rises, red and hazy ; 
 
 Frost has stopp'd the village mill. ' 
 
 February. 
 
 All around looks sad and dreary , 
 Fast the Saky snow descends : . 
 
 Yet the red-breast chirrups cheerly. 
 While the mitten'd lass attends. 
 
 March. 
 
 Rise the winds and rock the cottage. 
 Thaws the roof, and wets the path ; 
 
 Dorcas cooks the savory pottage ; 
 Smokes the cake upon the hearth. 
 
 April, 
 
 Sunshine intermits with ardor. 
 Shades fly swiftly o'er the fields ; 
 
 Showers revive the drooping verdure. 
 Sweets the sunny upland yields. 
 
 May. 
 
 Pearly beams the eye of morning ; 
 
 Child, forbear the deed unblest ! 
 Hawthorn every hedge adorning, 
 
 Pluck the flowers — ^but spare the nest, 
 
 June. 
 Schoolbojis, in the brook disporting. 
 
 Spend the sultry hour of play : 
 While the nymphs and swains are courting. 
 
 Seated on the new-made hay. ^ 
 
 July. 
 
 Maids, with each a guardian lover. 
 
 While the vivid lightning flics, ) 
 
 Hastenini; to the nearest cover. 
 
 Clasp their hands before their eyes. 
 
 * r-r T, ForsterV Perennial Calendar. 
 
THE YEAU BOOK.— JANUARY. 
 
 10. 
 
 .: August. 
 
 See the reapers, gleanerSj dining. 
 
 Seated on the shady grass ; 
 OVr the gate the squire reclining, 
 
 Slily eyes each ruddy lass. 
 
 September. 
 
 Hart ! a sound like distant thunder. 
 Murderer, may thy malice fail ! 
 
 Torn from all they love asunder, 
 Widow'd birds around us wail. 
 
 October. 
 
 Now Pomona pours her treasure. 
 Leaved autumnal strew the ground : 
 
 Plenty crowns the market measure. 
 While the mill runs briskly round, 
 
 November. 
 
 Now the giddy rites of Comtis 
 Crown the hunter's dear delight ; 
 
 Ah ! the year is Seeing from us : 
 Bleak the day, and drear the night 
 
 December. 
 
 Bring more wood, and set the glasses. 
 Join, my friends, our Christmas cheer. 
 
 Come, a catch ! — and kiss the lasses — 
 Christmas comes but once a year. 
 
 CHARACTERS IN ALMANACS. 
 Plakets. 
 
 The Sun. 
 }) The Moon, 
 g Mercury. 
 5 Venus. 
 
 The Eartli. 
 $ Mars. 
 If, Jupiter. 
 ^ Saturn. 
 
 Discovered since 1780. 
 
 y Uranus. $ Pallas. ^ Ceres. 
 
 ^ Juno. |4) Vesta. 
 
 Concerning the old planets there is suf- 
 ficient information : of those nevfly dis- 
 covered a brief notice may be acceptable. 
 
 Uranus was called the Georgium Sidus 
 by its discoverer Dr. Herschell, and, in 
 compliment to his discovery, some as- 
 tronomers call it Herschell. Before hipi 
 Dr. Flamstead, Bayer, and others had 
 seen and mistaken it for a fixed star, and 
 so placed it in their catalogues. It is 
 computed to be 1,800,000,000 of 
 miles from the sun ; yet it can be seen 
 vpithout a glass, on clear nights, like a 
 small star of the fifth magnitude, of a 
 bluish-vfhite color, and considerably 
 brilliant. To obtain a good view of its 
 disk, a telescopic power of nearly 200 is 
 requisite. 
 
 Pallas was first seen on the 28th of 
 March, 1802, at Bremen in Lower 
 
 Saxony, by Dr. Olbers. It is situated be- 
 tween the orbits of Mars and Jupiter; is 
 nearly of the same magnitude with Ceres, 
 but less ruddy in color ; is surrounded 
 with a nebulosity of almost ^;he same ex- 
 tent ; and revolves annually in about the 
 same period. But Pallas is remarkably 
 distinguished from Ceres, and the other 
 primary planets, by the immense inclina- 
 tion of its orbit ; for while they revolve 
 • around the sun in paths nearly circular, 
 and rise only a few degrees above the 
 plane of the ecliptic, Pallas ascends above 
 this plane at an angle of about thirty-five 
 degrees. From this eccentricity of Pal- 
 las being greater than that of Ceres, while 
 their mean distances are nearly equal, the 
 orbits of these two planets mutually in- 
 tersect each other, which is a phenomenon 
 without a parallel in the solar system. 
 
 Ceres was re-discovered by Dr. Olbers, 
 after she had been lost to M. Piazzi and 
 other astronomers. She is of a ruddy 
 color, and appears, through a proper te- 
 lescope, about the size of a star of the 
 eighth magnitude, surrounded with a 
 large dense atmosphere. She is situated 
 between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter, 
 and revolves around the sun in four years, 
 seven months, and ten days ; her mean 
 distance from it is nearly 260,000,000 of 
 miles. The eccentricity of her orbit is 
 not great, but its inclination to the eclip- 
 tic exceeds that of all the old planets. 
 
 Juno. On the 1st of September, 1804, 
 Professor Harding at Libiensthall, near 
 Bremen, saw a star in Pisces, not inserted 
 in any catalogue, which proved to be this 
 planet. 
 
 Vesta is of the fifth apparent magni- 
 tude, of an intense, pure, white color, and 
 without any visible atmosphere. To ac- 
 count for certain facts connected with the 
 discovery of Pallas, Ceres, and Juno, Dr. 
 Olbers imagined the existence of another 
 planet in the constellations of Aries and 
 the Whale, and carefully examined them 
 thrice every year until the 29th of March, 
 1807, when his anticipation was realised 
 by finding in the constellation of Virgo 
 this new planet.* 
 
 Aspects. 
 
 Si A planet's ascending node. 
 Q Descending node. 
 (5 Conjunction, or planets situated in the 
 same longitude. 
 
 Forster 
 
11 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY. 
 
 n 
 
 3 Quadrature, or, planets situated in 
 longitudes differing three signs from 
 each other. 
 Trine. 
 
 $ Opposition, or planets situated in op- 
 posite longitudes, or differing six 
 signs from each other. 
 
 ^ Sextile. 
 
 Phases of the Moon. 
 
 ]) First Quarter 
 O Full Moon 
 C Last quarter. 
 9 Nenr Moon. 
 
 Signs of the Zodiac. 
 The Sun enters 
 
 <Y> Aries, or the Ram . . 
 y Taurus, or the Bull 
 n Gemini, or the Twins . 
 ® Cancer, or the Crab . 
 IS Ia°, or the Lion . . 
 nj Virgo, or the Virgin . 
 £= libra, or the Balance . 
 ' tit Scorpio, or t'>e Scorpion 
 f: Sagittarius, or the Archer 
 Vf. Capricomus, or the Wild Goat, Dec. 22. 
 iii Aquarm, or the Water Bearer, J»n. 1 9. 
 K Pisces, or the Fishes . . Feb. 18, 
 
 . Mar. 
 
 20 
 
 . April 19. 
 
 . May 
 
 21 
 
 June 
 
 22 
 
 . July 
 
 23. 
 
 . Aug. 
 
 23 
 
 . Sept 
 
 23 
 
 . Oct. 
 
 23. 
 
 Nov. 
 
 22 
 
 Behold our orbit as through twice six signs 
 
 Our central Sun apparently inclines ; 
 
 The Golden Fleece his pale ray first adorns,' ' 
 
 Then tow'rds the' Bull he winds and gilds his horns ; 
 
 Castor and Pollux then receive his ray ; 
 
 On burning. Cancer then.he seems to stay ; 
 
 On flaming Iieo pours the liquid shower; . - 
 
 Then faints. beneath the. Virgin's conquering power: 
 
 Now. the just Scales weigh well both day and night; 
 
 The Scorpion then receives the solar light ; 
 
 Then quivered Chiron clouds his wintry face, 
 
 And the tempestuous Sea-Goat mends his pace; 
 
 Now in the water Sol's warm beams are quench'd, 
 
 Till with the Fishes he is fairly drench 'd. 
 
 Thesetwice six signs successively appear, 
 
 And mark the twelve months of the circling year. 
 
 THE OLDEST CUSTOM. 
 
 Old customs 1 Oh ! I love the sound, 
 
 ' However simple they may be : 
 TVTiate'er with time hath sanction found 
 Is welcome, and is dear to me. 
 
 Unquestionably the most ancient and 
 universal usage that exists is that of eating ; 
 and therefore it, is presumed that correct 
 information, which tends to keep up the 
 custom, will be esteenied by those who 
 are enabled to indulge in the practice. 
 An old Epicure's Almanac happily affords 
 the means of supplying an Alimentary 
 Calendar, month by month, beginning 
 with the year. 
 
 Alimentaet Calendar 
 
 January. — The present month com- 
 mences in the joyous season of Christmas 
 festivity, which, as Sir Roger de Coverley 
 good-naturedly observes, could not have 
 been contrived to take place at a better 
 time. ' 
 
 At this important juncture a brisk in- 
 terchange of presents is kept up between 
 the residents m London and their friends 
 
 in the country, from whom profuse sup- 
 plies of turkeys, geese, hares, pheasants, 
 and partridges, are received in return for 
 barrels of oysters and baskets of Billings- 
 gate fish. So plenteous and diversified 
 are the arrivals of poultry and game, in 
 the metropolis, that, for'-a repast of that 
 kind, an epicure could scarcely imagine a 
 more satisfactory bill of fare thaij. the 
 way-bill of one of the Norwich coaches. 
 
 The meats in season are beef, veal, 
 mutton, pork, and house-lamb; with 
 Westphalia and north-country hams; Can- 
 terbury and Oxfordshire brawn, salted 
 chines and tongues. 
 
 Besides fowls and turkeys, there are ca- 
 pons, guinea-fowls, pea-hens, wild-ducks, 
 widgeons, teal, plovers, and a great variety ' 
 of wild waterrfowl, as well as woodcocks, 
 snipes, and larks. 
 
 The skill and industry of the horticul- 
 turist enliven the sterility of winter with 
 the verdure of spring. Potatoes, savoy 
 cabbages, sprouts, brocoli, kale, turnips, 
 onions, carrots, and forced small sallads, 
 are in season; and some epicures bpast of 
 having so far anticioated the course of ve- 
 
13 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY. 
 
 14 
 
 getable nature as to regale their friends 
 at Christmas with asparagus and green 
 peas. 
 
 • There is also an infinite variety of 
 puddings and pastry, among which the 
 plum-pudding holds, by national prefer- 
 ence, the first rank, as the ibseparable com- 
 panion or follower of roast beef: puddings 
 also of semolina, millet, and rice; tarts 
 of preserved fruit, apple-pies, and tliat 
 delicious medley the mince-pie. 
 
 The appetite may be further amused by 
 a succession of custards and jellies. 
 
 A dessert may be easily made up of 
 Portugal grapes, oranges, apples, pears, 
 walnuts, and other fruits, indigenous or 
 exotic, crude or candied. 
 
 These supplies comprehend a great 
 proportion of the alimentary productions 
 of the year; and, indeed, many of the 
 main articles of solid fare are in season 
 either perennially, or for several months 
 in succession. 
 
 Beef, mutton, veal, and house-lamb ; sea- 
 salmon, turbot, flounders, soles, whitings, 
 Dutch herrings, lobsters, crabs, shrimps, 
 eels, and anchovies; fowls, chickens, 
 pullets, tame pigeons, and tame rabbits, 
 are perennials. 
 
 Grass-lamb is in season in April, May, 
 June, July, August, September, and Ocr 
 tober; pork in the first three months, and 
 four last months of the year ; buck-venison 
 in June, July, August, and September; 
 and doe-venison in October, November, 
 December, and January. 
 
 There is scarcely an article of diet, animal 
 or vegetable, the appearance of which, at 
 table, is limited to a single month. 
 
 The fish in season during January are 
 sea-salmon, turbot, thornback, skate, soles, 
 flounders, plaice, haddock, cod, whiting, 
 eels, sprats, lobsters, crabs, crayfish, 
 oysters, muscles, cockles, Dutch herrings, 
 and anchovies. There is also a small 
 supply of mackarel in this and the pre- 
 ceding month. 
 
 The poultry and game are turkeys, 
 capons, fowls, pullets, geese, ducklings, 
 wild ducks, widgeons, teal, plovers, wood- 
 cocks, snipes, larks, tame pigeons, hares, 
 herons, partridges, pheasants, wild and 
 tame rabbits, and grouse. 
 
 Of fowls the game breed is most es- 
 teemed for flavor. The Poland breed is 
 the largest. Dorking in Surrey, and 
 Eppingin Essex, are alike famed for good 
 poultry. In the neighbourhood of Bethnal 
 Green and Mile End are large.establish- 
 ments for fattening all kinds cf domestic 
 
 fowls, for the supply of Leadenhall market, 
 and the shipping in the port of London ; 
 these repositories have every convenience, 
 such as large barns, enclosed paddocks, 
 ponds, &c. ; but, however well contrived 
 and managed, every person of taste will 
 prefer a real barn-door-fed fowl. 
 
 Norfolk has the reputation of breeding 
 the finest turkeys ; they are in season from 
 November to March, when they are suc- 
 ceeded by turkey-poults.- 
 
 Tlie various birds of passage, such as 
 wild-ducks, widgeons, teal, plovers, &c., 
 which arrive in the cold season, are to be 
 found in most parts of England ; but 
 London is chiefly supplied from the fens 
 of Lincolnshire and Cambridgeshire. 
 There are said to be more than a hundred 
 varieties of tlie duck tribe alone; those with 
 red legs are accounted the best. 
 
 Plover's eggs, which are abundant in 
 the poulterers' shops, and esteemed a great 
 delicacy, are generally picked up by shep- 
 herds and cottagers on the moors and 
 commons, where they have been dropped 
 by the birds during their annual sojourn- 
 ment. 
 
 VEGETABLE GARDEN DIRECTORr. 
 
 In frosty weather wheel manure to the 
 plots or quarterings which require it. 
 
 Protect vegetables, such as celerj', 
 young peas, beans, lettuces, small cab- 
 bage plants, cauliflowers, endive, &c., 
 from severe cold, by temporary coverings 
 of fern-leaves, long litter, or matting, 
 stretclied over hoops : remove these cover- 
 ings in mild intervals, but not till the 
 ground is thoroughly thawed, or the sud- 
 den action of the sun will kill them. 
 
 During fine intervals, when the surface 
 is nearly dry, draw a little fine earth 
 around the stems of peas, beans, brocoli. 
 
 Attend to neatness. Remove dead 
 leaves into a pit or separate space to form 
 mould ; also carry litter of every kind to 
 the compost heap. 
 
 Destroy slugs, and the eggs of insects. 
 
 Dig and trench vacant spaces when the 
 weather is mild and open, and the earth 
 is dry enough to pulverize freely 
 
 If the weather be favorable, 
 
 Sow 
 
 Peas; early frame and charlton about 
 the first or second week : Prussian and 
 dwarf imperial, about the last week. 
 
 Beans; early mazagan and long pods 
 about the first and last week 
 
15 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 1. 
 
 16 
 
 Lettuce ; in a warm sheltered spot, not 
 before the last week : choose the hardy 
 sorts, as the cos and brown Dutch. 
 
 Radishes ; short top, and early dwarf, 
 in the second and fourth week. 
 
 Transplant 
 Cabbages ; early York, and sugar loaf, 
 about the close of the month. 
 
 Edrtli up 
 The stems of brocoli and savoys; also 
 rows of celery, to blanch and preserve. 
 
 In sowing or planting mark every row 
 with a cutting of gooseberry, currant, china 
 rose, or some plant that strikes root 
 quickly. By this you distinguisl\ your 
 rows, and gain a useful or ornamental 
 shrub for transplantation at leisure. * 
 
 Gardens do singularly delight, when in 
 them a man doth behold 5 flourishing 
 show of summer beauties in the midsi of 
 winter's force, and a goodly spring of 
 flowers, when abroad a leaf is not to be 
 seen. Gerard. 
 
 .^anuati) i. 
 
 Circumcision. — Church Calendar. 
 
 NEW YEAR'S GIFTS. 
 To further exemplify the old custom of 
 New Year's Gifts, of which there are state- 
 ments at large elsewhere,! a few curious 
 facts are subjoined. 
 
 In the year 1604, upon New Year's 
 Day, Prince Henry, then in his tenth 
 year, sent to his father, king James I., a 
 short poem in hexameter Latin verses, 
 being his first offering of that kind. 
 
 Books were not only sent as presents 
 on this day, but the practice occasioned 
 numerous publications bearing the title, 
 as a popular denomination, without their 
 contents at all referring to the day. For 
 example, the following are titles of some 
 in the library of the British Museum: — 
 
 "A New-Year's-Gift, dedicated to the 
 Pope's Holiness 1579.'' 4lo. 
 
 " A New-Year's-Gift to be presented to 
 the King's most excellent Majestie : with 
 a petition from his loyale Subjects, 1646." 
 4to. 
 
 Domestic Gardener's Manual . 
 1: In tlie Every-Day Book, 
 
 "The complete New-Year's Gift, or 
 Religious Meditations, 1725." r2mo. ^ 
 
 " The Young Gentleman's New-Y'ear 3 
 Gift, orAdvice to a Nephew, 1729." 12mo.' 
 
 Among the works published under this 
 title, the most curious is a very diminutive 
 and extremely rare volume called " The 
 New-Year's Gift; presented at court from 
 the Lady Parvula, to the Lord Minimus 
 (commonly called little Jeffery), her ma- 
 jesty's servant — with a letter penned in 
 short hand, wherein is proved that little 
 things are better than great. Written by 
 Microphilus, 1636." This very singular 
 publication was written in defence of 
 Jeflery Hudson, who, in the reign of 
 Charles I., was a celebrated dwarf, and 
 had been ridiculed by Sir William Dave- 
 nant, in a poem called Jeffreidos,concerning 
 a supposed battle between Jeffery and a 
 turkey-cock. Sir Walter Scott has re- 
 vived the popularity of the little hero by 
 introducing him into " Peverel of the Peak. 
 
 Jeffery Hudson 
 
 was born at Oakham in Rutlandshire, 
 At about seven or eight years old, being 
 then only eighteen inches high, he was re- 
 tained in the service of the duke of Buck- 
 ingham, who resided at Burleigh-on-the 
 hill. On a visit from king Charles I. 
 and his queen, Henrietta Maria, the duke 
 caused little jeffery to be served up to 
 table in a cold pie, which the duchess pre- 
 sented to her majesty. From that time 
 her majesty kept him as her dwarf; and 
 in that capacity he afforded much en- 
 tertainment at court. Though insignificant 
 in stature, his royal mistress employed 
 him on a mission of delicacy and import- 
 ance ; for in 1630 her majesty sent him to 
 France to bring over a midwife, on re- 
 turning with whom he was taken prisoner 
 by the Dunkirkers, and despoiled of many 
 rich presents to the queen from her mother 
 Mary de Medicis : he lost to the value 01 
 £2500 belonging to himself, which he had 
 received as gifts from that princess and 
 ladies of the French court. It was in re- 
 ference to this embassy that Davenant 
 wrote his mortifying poem, in which he 
 laid the scene at Dunkirk, and represented 
 Jeffery to have been rescued from the en- 
 raged turkey-cock by the courage of the ■ 
 gentlewoman he escorted. Jefferv is said 
 to have assumed much consequence after 
 his embassy, and to have been impatient •] 
 under the teazing of the courtiers, and the 
 insolent provocations of the don.estics of 
 the palace. One of his tormentors was 
 
17 
 
 HIE YEAR BOOK.— JANUAllY 1. 
 
 18 
 
 THE DOMESTIC DWARF. 
 
 FROM AN ENGRAVING IN WIEEIx's BIBLE, 1594. 
 
 the king's porter, a man of gigantic height, 
 who, in a masque at court, drew Jeffery 
 out of his pocket, to the surprise and mer- 
 riment of all the spectators. This porter 
 and dwarf are commemorated by a re- 
 l^resentation of them in a well-known 
 bas-relief, on a stone afiSxed, and still re- 
 mainingjin the front of a house on the north 
 side of Newgate Street, near Bagnio Court. 
 Besides his misadventure with the Dun- 
 kirkers, he was captured by a Turkish 
 rover, and sold for a slave into Barbary, 
 whence he was redeemed. On the break- 
 ing out of the troubles in England, he 
 was made a captain in the royal army, and 
 in 1644 attended the queen to France, 
 where he received a provocation from Mr. 
 Crofts, a young man of family, which he 
 took so deeply to heart, that a challenge 
 ensued. Mr. Crofts appeared on the 
 ground armed with a syringe.- This lu- 
 dicrous weapon was an additional and 
 deadly insult to the poor creature's feel- 
 ings. There ensued a real duel, in which 
 the antagonists were mounted on horse- 
 back, and Jeffery, with the first fire of his 
 pistol, killed Mr. Crofts on the spot. He 
 remained in France till the restoration, 
 when he returned to England. In 1682 
 he was arrested upon suspicion of con- 
 nivance in the Popish Plot, and committed 
 to the gate-house in Westminster, where 
 he died at the age of sixty-three. 
 
 As a phenomenon more remarkable of 
 Jeffery Hudson than his. stature, it is said 
 that he remained at the height of eighteen- 
 inches till he was thirty, when he shot up 
 to three feet nine inches, and there fixed. 
 
 His waistcoat of blue satin, slashed, and 
 ornamented with pinked white silk, and 
 his breeches and stockings, in one piece of 
 blue satin, are preserved in the Ashmolean 
 Museum at Oxford.* 
 
 Dwarfs. 
 
 The Romans kept dwarfs, as we do 
 monkies, for diversion ; and some persons 
 even carried on the cruel trade of stopping 
 the growth of children by confining them 
 in chests : most dwarfs came from Syria 
 and Egypt. Father Kircher published an 
 engraving of an ancient bronze, represent- 
 ing one of these dwarfs ; and Count Cay- 
 lers another print of a similar bronze. 
 Dwarfs commonly went unclothed, and 
 decked with jewels. One of our queens 
 carried a dwarf about for the admiration 
 of Spectators.^ Dwarfs and deformed 
 persons were retained to ornament the 
 tables of princes.J 
 
 Wierix's Bible contains a plate by John 
 Wierix, representing the feast of Dives, 
 with Lazarus at his door. In the rich 
 man's banqueting room there is a dwarf 
 to contribute to the merriment of the com- 
 pany, according to the custom among 
 people of rank in the sixteenth century. 
 This little fellow, at play with a monkey, 
 is the subject of the engraving on the pre- 
 ceding page. 
 
 Pigmies. 
 
 Among vulgar errors is set down this, 
 that there is a nation of pigmies, not above 
 
 * Granger. Walpole's Painters. 
 
 t Fosbroke's Encyclopedia of Antiquities, 
 
 % Montaigne. 
 
J9 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— JANUARY 1. 
 
 20 
 
 two or three feet high, and that they so- 
 lemnly set themselves in battle to fight 
 against the cranes. " Strabo thought this 
 a fiction ; and our age, which has fully 
 discovered all the wonders of the world, 
 as fully declares it to be one."* This 
 refers to accounts of the Pechinians of 
 Ethiopia, who are represented of small 
 stature, and as being accustomed every year 
 to dr've away the cranes which flocked to 
 their country in the winter. They are 
 pourtrayed on ancient gems mounted on 
 cocks or partridges, to fight the cranes; 
 or carrying grasshoppers, and leaning on 
 staves to support the burthen : also, in a 
 shell, playing with two flutes, or fishing 
 with a iine.f 
 
 Cranes, 
 
 A crane was a sumptuous dish at the 
 tables of the great in ancient times. 
 
 William the Conqueror was remarkable 
 for an immense paunch, and withal was 
 so exact, so nice and curious in his re- 
 pasts, that when his prime favorite,' 
 William Fitz Osborne, who, as dapifer or 
 steward of the household, had the charge 
 of the curey, served him with the flesh of 
 a crane scarcely half roasted, the king was 
 so highly exasperated that he lifted up 
 his fist, and would have struck him, had 
 not Eudo, who was appointed dapifer 
 immediately after, warded off the blow. | 
 
 Tame cranes, kept in the middle ages, 
 are said to have stood before the table at 
 dinner, and kneeled, and bowed the head, 
 when a bishop gave the benediction.^ 
 But how they knelt is as fairly open to 
 enquiry, as how Dives could take his seat 
 in torment, as he did, according to an old 
 carol, " all on a serpent's knee." 
 
 KOYAL NEW YEAR GIFTS. 
 
 In 1605, the year after prince Henry 
 presented liis verses to James I., Sir Dud- 
 ley Carleton writes : — " New year's day 
 passed without any solemnity, and the 
 exorbitant gifts that were wont to be used 
 at that time are so far laid by, that the 
 accustomed present of the purse of gold 
 was hard to be had without asking." It 
 appears, however, that in this y6ar the 
 Earl of Huntingdon presented and re- 
 ceived a new year's gift. His own words 
 record tlie method of presenting and re- 
 ceiving it. 
 
 * Brand. (■ Kosbroke, 
 
 } Peggcs' Form of Turcy, vi. f FoiiVrokc. 
 
 " Tlie manner of presenting a New-yere s 
 gifte to his Majestic from the Earle oj 
 Huntingdon. 
 
 " You must buy a new purse of about 
 vs. price, and put thereinto xx pieces of 
 new gold of xxs. a-piece, and go to the 
 presence-chamber, where the court is, 
 upon new-yere's day, in the morning 
 about 8 o'clocke, and deliver the purse 
 and the gold unto my Lord Chamberlain 
 then you must go down to the Jewell- 
 house fur a ticket to receive xviiis. v\d. as 
 a gift to your pains, and give v\d. there 
 to the boy for your ticket ; then go to 
 Sir William Veall's office, and shew your 
 ticket, and receive your Xviiis. y'vd. Then 
 go to the Jewell-house again, and make 
 a piece of plate of xxx ounces weight, 
 and marke it, and then in the afternoone 
 you may go and fetch it away, and then 
 give the gentleman who delivers it you 
 xls. in gold, and give to the boy iis. and 
 to the porter y'ld."* < 
 
 PEEES NEW YEAR S GIFTS. 
 
 From the household book of Henry Al- 
 gernon Percy, the fifth Earl of Northum- 
 berland, in 1511, it appears, that, when the 
 earl was at home, he was accustomed to 
 give on new-year's day as follows, — 
 
 To the king's servant bringing a new- 
 year's gift from the king, if a special friend 
 of his lordship, £6. 13s. id.; if only a 
 servant to the king, £5. 
 
 To the servant bringing the queeji's 
 new-year's gift-£3. 6s. 8d. i. 
 
 To the servant of his son-in-law, bring- 
 ing a new-year's gift, 13s. 4d. 
 
 To the servant bringing a new-year's 
 gift from his lordship's son and heir, the 
 lord Percy, 12c?. 
 
 To the daily minstrels of the household, 
 as his tabret, lute, and rebeck, upon new^ 
 year's day in the morning, when they 
 play at ray lord's chamber door, 20s. viz. 
 13s. Ad. for ray lord and 6s. 8rf. for my 
 lady, if she be at my lord's finding, and 
 not at her own. And for playing at my 
 lord Percy's chamber dnor 2s., and 8a' a 
 piece for playing at each of my lord's 
 younger sons. 
 
 To each of my lord's tnree henchmen, 
 when they give his lordship gloves, 6s.i8d( 
 
 To the grooms of his lordship's cham- 
 ber, to put in their box, 20s. 
 
 Nichols's Progresses. 
 
31 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— JANUARY 1. 
 
 33 
 
 My lord useth and accustometh to give 
 yearly, when his lordship is at home, and 
 hath an Abbot of misrule in Christmas, in 
 his lordship's house, upon new-year's 
 day, in reward, 20s. 
 
 To his lordship's officer of arms, herald, 
 or pursuivant, for crying " Largess" before 
 his lordship on new-year's day, as upon 
 the twelfth day following, for each day, 
 10s. 
 
 To his lordship's six trumpets, when 
 they play at my lord's chamber door, on 
 new-year's day in the morning, 13s. 4d. 
 for my lord, and 6s. 8d. for my lady, if 
 she be at my lord's finding. 
 
 To his .lordship's footmen, when they 
 do give his lordship gloves in the morn- 
 ing, each of them 3j. 4d.* 
 
 REMARKABLE NEW YEAR'S GIFTS. 
 
 Sir John Harrington, of Bath, sent to 
 James I. (then James. VI. of Scotland 
 only) at Christmas, 1 602, for a New-year's 
 gift, a curious ," dark lantern,'' The top 
 was a crown of pure gold, serving also to 
 cover a. perfume pan; within it was a 
 shield J of silver embossed, to reflect the 
 light; on one side ofi-which vyere the sun, 
 moon, and planets, and on the other side 
 the story of the birth andpassion of Christ 
 " as it.is found graved by a king of Scots 
 FDavid II.] that was prisoner in Notting- 
 ham." Sir Jiohn caused to be inscribed in 
 Latin, on this present, the following pas- 
 sage for his majesty's perusal, " Lord re- 
 member , me when thou comest into thy 
 kingdom." . Mr. Park well observes of 
 this New-year's lantern, that " it was 
 evidently febricated at a njqment when 
 the lamp of life grew dim in the frame of 
 queen Elizabeth : it is curious as arelique 
 of court-craft, but it displays a ' darkness 
 visible' in. the character of our politic 
 knight, and proves that he was an early 
 worshipper of the regal sun which rose in 
 the north, though his own 'notes and pri- 
 vate remembrances' would seem to indicate 
 a different disposition." In truth the 
 " regal sun" of the north had not yet ap- 
 peared above the horizon ; for Elizabeth 
 was still living, and the suppliant to her 
 expected successor was fctually writing 
 of her, in these terms : " I find some less 
 mindful of what they are soon to lose, 
 than of what perchance they may hereafter 
 get. Now, on my own part, I cannot 
 blot from my memory's table the goodness 
 of our sovereign lady to me, even ■{I will 
 
 • Antiquarian Repertory. 
 
 say) before born. Her affection to my 
 mother, who waited in her privy chamber, 
 her bettering the state of my father's for- 
 tune, her watehings over my youth, her 
 liking to my free speech, &c., have rooted 
 such love, such dutiful remembrance of 
 her princely virtues, that to turn askant 
 from her condition with tearless eyes would 
 stain and foul the sprina and fount of grati- 
 tude." The grieving knight wrote thus of his 
 " sovereign lady," to his own wife, whom 
 he calls " sweet Mall," two days after he 
 had dispatched the dark lantern to James, 
 with "Lord remember ms when thou 
 comest into thy kingdom."* 
 Dark Lantern. 
 
 It is a persuasion among the illiterate 
 that it is not lawful to go about with a 
 dark lantern. This groundless notion is 
 presumed to have been derived either from 
 Guy Fawkes having used a dark lantern 
 as a conspirator in the Gunpowder Plot, 
 or from the regulation' of the curfew which 
 reqiiired all fires to be extinguished by a 
 certain hour. 
 
 Lanterns. 
 
 Lanterns were in use among the an- 
 cients. One was discovered in the sub- 
 terranean ruins of Herculaneum. Some 
 lanterns were of horn, and others of 
 bladder resembling horn. One of Stosch's 
 gems represents Love enveloped in dra- 
 pery, walking softly, and cfrrying a lan- 
 tern in his hand. The dark lantern of 
 the Roman sentinels was sqtiare, covered 
 on three sides with black skin, and on the 
 other side white skin, which permitted the 
 light to pass. On the Trojan column is a 
 great ship-lantern hanging before the 
 poop of the vessel. With us, lanterns 
 were in common use very early. That 
 horn-lanterns were invented by Alfred 
 is a common, but apparentlyan erroneous 
 statement; for Mr. Fosbroke shows that 
 not only horn, but glass lanterns were 
 mentioned as in use among the Anglo- 
 Saxons, many years before Alfred lived. 
 That gentleman cites from Aldhelm, who 
 wrote in the seventh century, a passage to 
 this effect, " Let not; the glass lantern 
 be despised, or that made of a shorn hide 
 and osier-twigs ; or of a thin skin, al- 
 though a brass lamp may excel it." Our 
 ancient hand-lantern was an oblong square, 
 carried the narrow end uppermost, with 
 an arched aperture for the light, and a 
 square handle.-j- 
 
 * Nuga Antiquae i. 321, 325. 
 t Barrington'sObs, unAnc. Statutes. Brand 
 
23 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 1. 
 
 24 
 
 Lantern and Candle-light. 
 
 Tliis was the usual cry of the old Lon- 
 floa bellman. It is mentioned as such by 
 Heywood in the " Rape of Lucrece." 
 
 Lantern and candle light-here. 
 Maids ha' light there, 
 Thus go the cries 
 
 The same writer, in "Edward IV., 
 1626," speaks of " no more calling of Ian- 
 thorn and candle light." Hence two 
 tracts by Dekker bear the title of " Lan- 
 thorn and candle-light: or the bellman's 
 night-walk."* Tvyo other tracts, also by 
 Dekker, are entitled " English villanies, 
 &c., discovered by lanthorne and candle- 
 light, and the help of a new cryer, called 
 0-Per-Se-O, 1648," &c. 
 
 landlords' ahd tenants' new-yeak's 
 
 GIFTS. 
 
 In a MS. book of disbursements of sir 
 John Francklyn, bart., at his house at 
 Wilsden in Middlesex, is an account of 
 New-year's gifts in 1625. 
 
 s. d. 
 To the musicians in the morning 1 6 
 To the woman who brought an 
 
 apple stuck with nuts . . .10 
 To a boy who brought two ca- 
 pons 10 
 
 Paid for the cup ....,16 
 
 The last item is supposed to have been 
 for a drink from the wassail-cup, which 
 girls were accustomed to offer at new- 
 year's tide, in expectation of a gift. The 
 apple stuck with nuts may have been a 
 rustic imitation of the common new-year's 
 gift of "an orange stuck with cloves," 
 mentioned by Ben Jonson in his Christ- 
 mas Masque. The new-year's gift of ca- 
 pons from tenants to their landlords 
 appears from Cowley to have been cus- 
 tomary 
 
 Ye used in the former days to fall 
 Prostrate unto your landlord in his hall. 
 When with low 'legs, and in an humhle 
 
 guise. 
 Ye offered up a capon sacrifice 
 Unto his worship at a New-year's tide. 
 
 This custom of capon-giving is also 
 mentioned by Bishop Hall, in one of his 
 satires. 
 
 Yet must he haunt his greedy landlord's 
 hall 
 
 With often presents at each festival ; 
 
 * Nare'S Glossary, 
 
 With crammed capons every New-year's 
 
 Or wkh ^een cheeses when his sheep are 
 
 shorn.* 
 A manuscript of cereroopies and ser- 
 vices at court, in the time of king Henry 
 VII., entitled a "Royalle Book,' formeriy 
 belonging to the distinguished antiquary 
 Peter Le Neve, Norroy king at arms, and 
 supposed by him to have been written by 
 an esquire or gentleman-usherof that sove- 
 reign, contains the order of regal cere- 
 mony to this effect : — 
 
 On New-year's Day the king ought to 
 wear his surcoat, and his kirlle, and his 
 pane of ermine ; and, if his pane be five 
 ermine deep, a duke shall be but four ; 
 an earl three. And the king must have 
 on his head his hat of estate, and his 
 sword before him; the chamberlain, 
 the steward, the treasurer, the comp- 
 troller, and the ushers, before the sword ,- 
 and before them all other lords, save only 
 them that wear robes; and they must 
 follow the king: and the greatest estate to 
 lead the queen. This array belongs to 
 the feasts of New-year's Day, Candlemas 
 Day, Midsummer Day, the Assumption 
 of our Lady, and the Nativity of our 
 Lady, as it pleaseth the king. And, if two 
 of the king's brethren be there, one is to 
 lead the queen, and another to go with 
 him that beareth the train of the kingj 
 and else no man in England, save the 
 prince. 
 
 Also, the king going in a day of estate 
 in procession, crowned, the queen ought 
 not to go in that procession without th6 
 queen be crowned ; but to abide in her 
 closet or travers, or else where it pleaseth 
 the king that she shall abide. 
 
 On New-year's Day in the morning, 
 the king, when he cometh to his foot- 
 schete, an usher of the chamber to be 
 ready at the chamber door, and say, 
 " Sire, here is a year's-gift coming from 
 the queen." And then he.shall say, " Let 
 it come in, sire." And then the usher 
 shall let in the messenger with the gift, and 
 then, after that, the greatest estate's ser- 
 vant that is come, each one after the other 
 according to their estate; and, after that' 
 done, all other lords and ladies after their 
 estate. And all this while the k^ng must 
 sit at his foot-schete. This done, the 
 chamberlain shall send for the treasurer of 
 the chamber, and charge the treasurer to 
 give the messenger that bringeth the queen's 
 
 * Ar ha^ologia. 
 
25 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 1.. 
 
 26 
 
 sift, if he be a knight, ten marks ; and if 
 he be an esquire eight marks, or at the 
 least one hundred shillings : and the king's 
 mother one hundred shillings ; and those 
 that come from the king's brothers and 
 sisters, each of them, six marks : and to 
 every duke and duchess, each of them, 
 five marks ; and every earl and countess 
 forty shillings. These be the rewards of 
 them that bring year's gifts. Whether the 
 king will do more or less, this hath been 
 done. And this done the king goelh to 
 make him ready, and go to his service in 
 what array he liketh. 
 
 The queen, in likevfise, to sit at her 
 foot-schete, and her chamberlain and 
 ushers to do as the king's did. Her re- 
 wards to them that bring her gifts shall 
 not be so good as the king's.* 
 
 The receiving and giving of New-year's 
 gifts by the king is discontinued. The 
 only remkins of this ancient custom at 
 court now is, that the two chaplains in 
 waiting on New-year's Day have each a 
 crown-piece laid under their plates at 
 dinner.f 
 
 PLAY AT THE GROOM PORTEr's. 
 
 On New-year's Day, 1668, Mr. Pepys, 
 in his diary, says that after dinner he went 
 to the Duke's Theatre, and " Thence to 
 Whitehall, and then.walked up and down 
 the house awhile. By-and-by I met with 
 Mr. Brisland, and having it in my mind 
 this Christmas to do, what I never can 
 remember that I did, go to see the gaming 
 at the Groom-Porter's, he did lead me 
 thither ; where, after staying an hour, they 
 began to play at about eight at night. 
 And to see the formality of the groom- 
 porter, who is the judge of all disputes in 
 play, and all quarrels lha^ may arise 
 therein, and how his under-officers are 
 there to observe true play at-each table, 
 and to give new dice, is a consideration I 
 never could have thought had been in the 
 •world, had I not now seen it." 
 
 Mr. Evelyn saw Charles II. play at 
 the groom-porter's on Twelfth Nigbt, 1662. 
 He speaks of the excess with reprobation. 
 For his observations, and an account of 
 the office of groom-pprter, see further on, 
 in this month'. 
 
 PRINCE OF MISRDLE. 
 
 1662, January 1, Mr. Evelyn says, in 
 his Diary, " I went to London, invited to 
 
 • Antiq. Rep. 
 + Mr. NichoU, Progresses Q. Eliz. pref. 
 
 the .solemn foolerie of the Prince de la- 
 Grainge, at Lincoln's Inn, where came 
 the king (Charles II.), the duke, §lc. It 
 began with a grand masque, and a formal 
 pleading before th<^ mock princes, gran- 
 dees, nobles, and knights of the sun. He 
 had his lord chancellor, chamberlain, 
 treasurer, and other royal o£Scers, glori- 
 ously clad and attended. It ended in a 
 magnificent banquet. One Mr, Lort was 
 the young spark who maintained the pa- 
 geantry." 
 
 HEW year's day in FRANCE. 
 
 As early in the morning as people can 
 possibly dress themselves in proper attire, 
 they set out on a round of visits to rela- 
 tions and friends, to wish them a happy 
 new year and to present them with bon- 
 bons. The relations are first visited, be- 
 ginning with those nearest in affinity, 
 then those that are further removed, and 
 lastly come the friends and acquaintances. 
 It is a contest of politeness on this occa- 
 sion who shall start first, and anticipate 
 the call of a relation or friend. 
 
 The shops of the confectioners are 
 dressed up on the day before with look- 
 ing-glasses, intermixed with festoons of 
 silk or muslin, and bunches of ribands 
 or flowers. The counters are covered 
 with clean table-cloths, and set out with 
 cakes, sweetmeats, dried fruits, and bon- 
 bons, constructed into pyramids, castles, 
 columns, or any form which the taste of 
 the decorator may suggest ; and in the 
 evening the shops are illuminated for the 
 reception of company, who come to buy 
 bon-bons for the next day. Endless are 
 the devices for things in which they are 
 to be enclosed ; there are little boxes or 
 baskets made of satin ornamented with 
 gold, silver, or foil ; balloons, books, 
 fruit, such as apples, pears, oranges ; or 
 vegetables, such as a cauliflower, a root of 
 celery, an onion ; any thing, in short, 
 which can bs made of confectionary, with 
 a hollow within, to hold the bon-bons. 
 The most prevailing device is called a 
 comet, which is a small cone ornamented 
 in different ways with a hug, to draw over 
 and close the large end. In these rf;on- 
 trivances, the prices of which vary from 
 one livre to fifty, the bon-bons are pre- 
 sented by those who choose to be at the 
 expense of them ; by those who do not 
 they are only wrapped in a piece of paper ; 
 but it is indispensable that bon-bons in 
 some way or other be presented. In the se 
 visits to friends, and in gossiping at the 
 
27 
 
 THE YEAll BOOK.— JANUARY 1. 
 
 28 
 
 confectioners' shops, which are ttie great 
 'ounge for the occasion, the morning of 
 New-year's day is passed. A dinner is 
 given by some member of tlie family to 
 all the rest, and the evening concludes 
 with cards, dancing, or any other amuse- 
 ment that may be preferred. 
 
 The decorations of the confectioners' 
 shops remain till twelfth-day ; when there 
 is a ceremony of drawing twelfth-cake, dif- 
 fering from the mode in England. The 
 cake is very plain in its composition, 
 being not better than a common bun, but 
 large, so as to cut into slices. In one 
 part a bean is introduced ; and the per- 
 son who draws the slice with the bean is 
 king or queen, according to the sex of 
 the drawer. Every one then drinks to 
 the health of the new sovereign, who re- 
 ceives the general homage of the company 
 for the evening. The rest of the com- 
 pany have no name or title of distinction. 
 
 a copy to as many confectioners as chose 
 to purchase one. Issue hereupon was 
 again joined, and another verdict in favor 
 of the poet established his right of sell- 
 ing and resellin? his mottoes for bon-bons 
 to all the confectioners in the universe. 
 
 Two remarkable lawsuits between a 
 confectioner and a poet arose out of the 
 celebration of New-year's Day. "The 
 poet had been employed by the con- 
 fectioner to write some mottoes in verse 
 for his New-year's Day bon-bons j and 
 the agreement was, that he was to have 
 six livres for five hundred couplets. The 
 poet delivered his couplets in manu- 
 script, according to the agreement as he 
 understood it ; . to this the confectioner 
 objected, because he understood they 
 were to be printed, and ready for enclos- 
 ing within his bon-bons. The poet an- 
 swered that not a word had passed on 
 the subject of printing, and that he 
 should not have agreed to furnish the 
 mottoes at so low a price if he had under- 
 stood the printing was to be included. 
 Thereupon the parties joined issue, and a 
 verdict was found for the poet ; because, 
 as no mention of printing was made, the 
 confectioner had no claim to expect it ; 
 and because six livres was as little as 
 could possibly be given for such a num- 
 ber of lines in manuscript. After this 
 action against the confectioner was settled, 
 the man of bon-bons brought an action 
 against the son of Apollo, for that the 
 poet had sold a copy of the same mottoes 
 to another confectioner, whereas the 
 ■ plaintiflF had understood that they were to 
 be exclusively his. The defendant an- 
 swered that not a word had passed indi- 
 cating a transfer of exclusive right; and he 
 maintained that he was at liberty to sell 
 
 MEMORY GARLANDS. 
 l^For the Year Book.'] 
 Years may roll on, and' maiihood's btow grow 
 cold, ■ " ■-' 
 
 And life's dull winter spread its dark'ning 
 pall I'll' 
 
 O'er cherish'd hopes ; yet time cannot with- 
 hold . / I- _ 
 A precious boon which mem'ry gives to 
 all:— ' , , 
 Fond recollection, when the tale is told 
 
 Which-forms the. record of life's festival, 
 Recals the pleasures of youth's opening scene. 
 And age seems young — rememb'ring what 
 hath been. ' ' 
 
 Even as children in their happiest hours, 
 
 Gath'ring the blossoms which around them 
 grow. 
 Will sometimes turn and strew the early 
 flowers ' 
 
 Over the grave of one — there lying low — 
 Who watched their.infancy — so wo ;,for ours 
 
 Are kindred feelings : we as gently throw 
 Our mem'ry garlands on the closing grave 
 
 Of joys we lov'd — yetjloving, coul^ not save. 
 
 Annexed to this, and every day through- 
 out the year, will be, found the tirae of 
 day-break, sun-rise and sun-set, and tlie 
 end of twilight, derived from a series of 
 tables purposely compiled for the present 
 work. . r 
 
 To these daily notices are frequently 
 added the flowering of plants, the arrival 
 and departure ofbirds,and other indications 
 of the time of the year, according to the ave- 
 rage time of their appearance,as stated inDr. 
 Forster's " Encyclopaedia of Natural Phe- 
 nomena," upon the authority of a private 
 manuscript journal kept for fifty years. 
 
 ho. m. 
 
 January 1. — Day breaks . .16 
 
 Sun rises. ... 8 4 
 
 sets ... 3 56 
 
 Twilight ends . . 5 59 
 The black niellebtffe,-''and sweet colts- 
 foot, are in full flower, if the weather be 
 open. 
 
25 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 2. 
 
 30 
 
 .January 2. 
 
 On the 2d of January, 1756, about four 
 o'clock in the afternoon, atTuam in Ireland, 
 appeared an unusual light, far beyond that 
 of the brightest day. It faded away by 
 sensible degrees, and about seven o'clock 
 a sun of streamers rrossed the sky, which 
 undulated like the surface of a rippling 
 water, and caused great alarm. In about 
 eighteen minutes the streamers became 
 discolored. The edges were first tinc- 
 tured with a bright cerulean, then with 
 a fine azure, and lastly with a flame color. 
 The phenomenon discharged itself in a 
 blaze towards the north. It is stated that 
 a very uncommon shock immediately 
 succeeded, but no danger ensued. Some 
 of the terrified inhabitants of Tuam left the 
 city, and the frightened villagers flocked 
 into it. The account adds that about the 
 same time seven acres of ground were laid 
 under water at Ballimore, and two hun- 
 dred head of cattle were drowned by the 
 deluge.* From the description it is pre- 
 sumable that this remarkable appearance 
 was merely the aurora borealis, or northern 
 lights. 
 
 Oft in this season^ silent from the north, 
 A blaze of meteors starts ; ensweeping first 
 The lower skies^ they all at once converge 
 High to the crown of heaven, and all at once 
 Relapsing quick, as quickly reascend. 
 And mix, and thwart, extinguish and renew. 
 All ether coursing in a maze of light. 
 
 'Thomson. 
 
 LINCOLN S INN PRINCE OF MISRULE. 
 
 On the 2nd of January, 1662, king 
 Charles II. took his pleasure in seeing the 
 holiday pastimes of the lawyers. Mr. 
 Pepys says of himself, in his diary, that 
 while he was at Farthome's the fine en- 
 graver of old English portraits, whither 
 he had gone to buy some pictures, " comes 
 by the king's life-guard, he being gone to 
 Lincoln's Inn this afternoon, to see the 
 revels there ; there being, according to an 
 old custom, a prince and. all his nobles, 
 and other matters of sport and change." 
 This prince whom the king visited at Lin- 
 colns Inn was a prince of misrule, re- 
 specting which mock-sovereign, and his 
 merry court at Gray's Inn, there is a full 
 and diverting account hereafter. 
 
 EARL OF nOBSET's SEA SONG. 
 
 On the 2iid of January, 1665, Mr. Pe- 
 pys went by appointment to dine with 
 
 • Gents. Mag, xxvi. 
 
 Lord Brouncker at his house in the 
 piazza Covent garden. He says, " I re- 
 ceived much mirth with a ballet I brought 
 with me, made from the seamen at sea, to 
 their ladies in town, saying Sir. W. Pen, 
 Sir G. Ascue, and Sir G. Lawson made 
 it." It was a production of the witty 
 Earl of Dorset, then a volunteer in the 
 fleet against Holland. The sparMing 
 verses of this pleasant song float into a 
 tune in the reading. Here it is :— 
 
 V Written at Sea, in the first Dutch War, 1665, 
 he night before an enyag^ment. 
 
 To all you ladies now at land. 
 
 We men, at sea, indite ; 
 But first would have ydu understand 
 
 How hard it is to write ; 
 The muses now, and Neptune too. 
 We must implore to write to you. 
 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la. 
 
 For though the Muses should prove kindj 
 And fill our empty brain ; . 
 
 Yet if rough Neptune raise the wind. 
 To wave the azure main. 
 
 Our paper, pen, and ink, and we. 
 
 Roll up and down our ships at sea. 
 With a fa, &c. 
 
 Then if we write not by each post. 
 
 Think not we are unkind ; 
 Nor yet conclude our ships are lost. 
 
 By Dutchmen, or by wiud : 
 Our tears we'll send a speedier way. 
 The tide shall bring them twice a-day. 
 
 With a fa, &c. 
 
 The king, with wonder and surprise. 
 Will swear the seas grow bold ; 
 
 Because the tides will higher rise 
 Than e'er they used of old : 
 
 But let him know it is our tears 
 
 Bring floods of grief to Whitehall stairs. 
 With a fa, &c. 
 
 Should foggy Opdam chance to know 
 
 Our sad and dismal story ; 
 The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe. 
 
 And quit their fort at Goree : 
 For what resistance can they find 
 From men whnVe left their hearts behind? 
 
 With a fa, &c. ' 
 
 Let wind and weather do its worst. 
 
 Be you to us but kind ; 
 Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse. 
 
 No sorrow we shall find : 
 'Tis then no matter how things go. 
 Or who's our friend, or who's our foe. 
 
 With a fa, &c. 
 
31 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 
 
 32 
 
 To pass our tedious hours away. 
 
 We throw a merry main ; 
 Or else at serious ombre play ; 
 
 But why should we iu vain 
 Each other's ruin thus pursue ? 
 We were undone when we left you. 
 
 With a fa, &c. 
 
 But now our fears tcmpestous grow, 
 ♦ And cast our hopes away ; 
 Whilst you, regardless of our woe. 
 
 Sit careless at a play : 
 Perhaps permit some happier man 
 To kiss your hand, or flirt your fan. 
 
 With a fa, &f . 
 
 When any mournful tune you hear. 
 
 That dies in every note ; 
 As if it sigh'd with each man's care. 
 
 For being so remote ; 
 Think how often love we've made 
 To you, when all those tunes were play'd. 
 
 With a fa, &c. 
 
 In justice you cannot refuse 
 
 To think of our distress ; 
 When we -for hopes of honor lose ' 
 
 Our certain happiness ; 
 All those designs are but to prove 
 Ourselves more worthy of your love. 
 
 With a fa. Sec. 
 
 And now we've told you all our loves. 
 And likewise all our fears ; 
 
 In hopes this declaration moves 
 Some pity from your' tears ; 
 
 Let's hear of no inconstancy. 
 
 We have too much of that at sea. 
 With a fa, &c. 
 
 Tenth wave. 
 There is a common affirmation that tne 
 tenth wave is the greatest and most dan- 
 gerous. This is noticed by Sir Thomas 
 Browne, as averred by many writers, and 
 plainly described by Ovid ; " which not- 
 withstanding is evidently false," adds Sir 
 Thomas, " nor can it be made out by 
 observation, either upon the shore, or the 
 ocean ; as we have with diligence explored 
 both." 
 
 Tenth Egg. 
 Of affinity to the notion of the tenth 
 wave is another, that the tenth egg is 
 bigger than the rest. "For the honor 
 we bear the clergy, we cannot but wish 
 this trae," says Sir Thomas, " but herein 
 will be found no more verity than the 
 other." . ^ 
 
 January 2. — Day breaks 
 
 Sun rises 
 
 sets 
 
 Twilight ends _ . 
 
 The rising of Gemini, achronically, takes 
 place. 
 
 ho. m. 
 
 5 59 
 8 4 
 3 56 
 
 6 1 
 
 f anuari? 3, 
 
 Jan. 3, 1805, Charles Townley, Esq., ot 
 Townley, in Lancashire, died at the age of 
 67. He had formed a valuable collection 
 of ancient statuary bronzes, medals, and 
 manuscripts, and coins, which, by a par- 
 liamentary grant of £20,000, were pur- 
 chased and deposited in the British 
 Museum, and form that portion of the 
 national property in the British Museum 
 usually called the Townley collection. 
 TheEtruscan antiquities had been de- 
 scribed some years before, in two vols, 4to., 
 by M. D'Ancarville.* , 
 
 ALCHEMY. 
 
 On the 3rd- of January, 1652, Mr 
 Evelyii, being at Paris, visited a certain 
 Marc Antonio,' an ingenious enameler. 
 " He told us great stories," says Evelyn^ 
 " of a Genoese jeweller who had the great 
 arcanum, and had made projection before 
 him several times. He met him at Cyprus 
 travelling into Egypt, on his return from 
 whence he died at sea, and the secret 
 with him— 411 his effects were seized on, 
 and dissipated by the Greeks in the vessel, 
 to an immense value. He also affirmed 
 that, being in a goldsmith's shop at 
 Amsterdam, a persou of very low stature 
 came in and desired the goldsmith to 
 melt him a pound of lead, which done, 
 he unscrewed the pummel of his sword, 
 and taking out of a little box a small 
 quantity of powder, and casting it into 
 the crucible, poured an ingot out, which, 
 when cold, he took up, saying, Sir, you 
 will be paid for your lead in the crucible, 
 and so went out immediately. When he 
 was gone, the goldsmith found four ounces 
 of good gold in it, but could never set eye 
 again on the little man, though he sought 
 all the city (o^ him. This Antonio 
 asserted with great obtestation; nor know 
 I what to think of it, there are so many 
 impostors, and people who love to tefl 
 strange stories, as this artist did, who had 
 been a great rover, and spake ten different 
 languages." . 
 
 The most celebrated history of trans- 
 mutation is that given by. Helvetius in 
 his " Brief of the golden calf; dis- 
 covering the rarest Miracle in Nature, 
 how, by the smallest portion of the Phifo- 
 sopher's Stone, a great piece of common 
 lead was totally transmuted into the purest 
 transplendent gold, at the Hague in 1666." • 
 The marvellou.s account of Helvetius is 
 thus rendered by Mr. Brande. 
 
 * Gents. Mag. Ixxv. 
 
THK YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 3. 
 
 34 
 
 ALCHEMIST. 
 
 « Hie 27lhday of December, 1666, in 
 llie afternoon, came a stranger to my 
 house at the Hague, in a plebeian habit, 
 of honest gravity, and serious authority, 
 of a mean stature, and a little long face, 
 black hair, not at all curled, a beardless 
 chin, and about forty years (as I guess) 
 of age, and bom in North Holland. 
 After salutation he bcseeched me, with 
 great reverence, to pardon his rude ac- 
 cesses, for he was a lover of the Pyro- 
 technian art, and having read my treatise 
 against the Sympathetic powder of Sir 
 Kensulm Digby, and observed my doubt 
 about the philosophic mystery, induced 
 him to ask me if I was really a disbeliever 
 as to the existence of a universal medi- 
 cine which would cure all diseases, unless 
 the principal parts were perished, or the 
 predestinated time of death come. I 
 replied, I never met with an adept, or 
 saw such a medicine, though I had fer- 
 vently prayed for it. Then I said, surely 
 you are a learned physician. No, said 
 he, I am a brass-founder and a lover of 
 chemistry. He then took from his bosom- 
 pouch a neat ivory box, and out of it three 
 ponderous lumps of stone, each about the 
 bigness of a walnut. I greedily saw and 
 handled, for a quarter of an hour, this 
 Vol. I 2 
 
 most noble substance, the. value of which 
 might be somewhat-about twenty tons of 
 gold ; and, having drawn from the owner 
 many rare secrets of its admirable effects, 
 I returned him tliis treasure of treasures, 
 with most sorrowful mind, humbly be- 
 seeching him to bestow a fragment of it 
 upon me, in perpetual memory of him, 
 though but the size of a coriander seed. 
 No, no, said be, that is not lawful, thougii 
 thou wouldst give me as many golden 
 ducats as would fill this room ; for it 
 would have particular consequences j and, 
 if fire could be burned of fire, I would 
 at this instant rather cast it into the fiercest 
 flame. He then asked if I had a private 
 chamber whose prospect was from the 
 public street; so I presently conducted 
 him to my best room, furnished, back- 
 wards, which he entered," says Helvetius, 
 in the true spirit of Dutch cleanliness, 
 " without wiping his shoes, which were 
 full of snow and dirt. I now expected 
 he would bestow some great secret upon 
 me, but in vain. He asked for a piece of 
 gold, and opening his doublet showed me 
 five pieces of that precious metal, which 
 he wore upen a green riband, and which 
 very much excelled mine in flexibility and 
 color, each being the size of a small 
 
 c 
 
»5 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 4. 
 
 36 
 
 trencher. I now earnestly again craved 
 a crumb of this stone; and, at last, out of 
 his philosophical commiseration, he gave 
 me a morsel as large as a rape-seed ; but, 
 I said, this scanty portion will scarcely 
 transmute four grains of gold. Then, 
 said he, deliver it me back ; which I did, 
 in hopes of a greater parcel; but he, 
 cutting off half with his nail, said, even 
 this is sufficient for thee. Sir, said I, 
 with a dejected countenance, what means 
 this ? And he said, even that will trans- 
 mute half an ounce of lead. So I gave 
 him great thanks, and said I would try it, 
 and reveal it to no one. He then took his 
 leave, and said he would call again next 
 morning at nine. — I then confessed that 
 while the mass of his medicine was in my 
 hand, theday before, I had secretly scraped 
 off a bit with my nail, which I projected 
 on lead, but it caused no transmutation, 
 for the whole flew away in fumes. Friend, 
 said he, thou art more dexterous in com- 
 mitting theft than in applying medicine ; 
 hadst thou wrapt up thy stolen prey in 
 yellow wax, it would, have penetrated, 
 and transmuted the lead into gold. I 
 then asked if the philosophic work cost 
 much, or required long time ; for philoso- 
 phers say that nine or ten months are 
 required for it. He answered, their 
 writings are only to be understood by the 
 adepts, without whom no student can pre- 
 pare this magistery; fling not away, 
 therefore, thy money and- goods in hunting 
 out this art, for thou shalt never find it. 
 To which I replied, as thy master showed 
 it to thee, so mayest thou, perchance, dis- 
 cover something thereof to me, who know^ 
 the rudiments, and therefore it may be 
 easier to add to a foundation than begin 
 anew. In this art, said he, it is quite 
 otherwise ; for, unless thou knowest the 
 thing from head to heel,thou canst notbreak 
 open the glassy seal of Hermes. But 
 enough, — to-morrow, at the ninth hour, I 
 will show thee the manner of projection. 
 But Elias never came again ; so my wife, 
 who was curious in the art whereof the 
 worthy man had discoursed, teazed me to 
 make the experiment with the little spark 
 of bounty the artist had left me; so I 
 melted half an ounce of lead, upon which 
 my wife put in the said medicine ; it hissed 
 and bubbled, and in a quarter of an hour 
 the mass of lead was transmuted into fine 
 gold,at which we were exceedingly amazed. 
 I took it to the-goldsmid], wJio judged it 
 most excellent, and willingly offered fifty 
 florins for each ounce." 
 
 January 3.— Day breaks • " ^ 2 
 Sun rises • . . 8 ^ 
 — sets . . . • 3 57 
 Twilight ends ..61 
 The laurentinus flowers, if mild. 
 The Persian fleur de lis flowers in the 
 house. 
 
 Tennh, Sfc. 
 
 On the 4th of January 1664, Mr. Pepys 
 went " to the tennis-court, and there saw 
 the king (Charles II.) play at tennis. 
 But," says Pepys, " to see how the king's 
 play was extolled, without any cause at 
 all, was a loathsome sight ; though some- 
 times, indeed, he did play very well, and 
 deserved to be commended ; but such 
 open flattery is beastly.* Afterwards to 
 St. James's park, seeing people play at 
 pall inall." 
 
 Pali-Mall. 
 
 The most common memorial of this 
 diversion is the street of that name, once 
 appropriated to its use, as was likewise 
 the Mall, which runs parallel with it, in 
 St. James's park. From the following 
 quotations, Mr. Nares believes that the 
 place for playing was called the Mall, and" 
 the stick employed, the pall-mall. " If 
 one had a paille-maile, it were good tOi 
 play in this ally; for it is of a reasonable 
 good length, straight, and even."f Again, 
 " a stroke with a pail-mail bettle upon a 
 bowl makes it fly from it." J Yet, Evelyni 
 speaks twice of Fall-mall, as a place for 
 playing in ; although he calls such a place 
 at Toms' a mall only.§ 
 
 On the 4th of January, 1667, Mr. Pe- 
 pys had company to dinner ; and " at 
 night to sup, and then to cards, and, last; 
 of all, to have a, flaggon of ale and appjes,, 
 drunk out of a wood cup, as a Chri^ttijas, 
 dra,ught, which made all merry." 
 
 Cups. 
 About thirty years before Mr. Secretary 
 Pepys took his Christmas fraught " out 
 
 * For Tennis, &c., see Strutt's Sports and 
 Pastimes of the People of England, by W, 
 Hone, 8vo., p. 93. 
 
 t French Garden for English Ladies, 1621. 
 
 t Digby on the Soul. 
 
 $ Concerning the Sport called Pail-Mall, 
 
 see Strutt's Sports, 8vo-. p. 103. 
 
?7 
 
 THE YEAR UQOK.--.TANUARY 4 
 
 58 
 
 of a wood cup," a writer says, " Gf 
 drinking cups divers and sundry sorts we 
 have ; some of elme, some of box, some 
 of maple, some of holly, &c, ; mazers, 
 broad-mouthed dishes, noggins, whiskins, 
 piggins, crinzes, ale-bowls, wassell-bowls; 
 court-dishes, tankards, kannes, from a 
 poUle to a pint, from a pint to a gill. 
 Other bottles we have of leather, but they 
 are most used amongst the shepheards and 
 harvest-people of the countrey : small 
 jacks we have in many ale-houses of the 
 ci'tie and suburbs, tip't with silver, Resides 
 the great black jacks and bombards at the 
 court, which, when the Frenchmen first 
 saw, they reported, at their returne into 
 iheii- countrey, that the Englishmen used' 
 to drinke out of their bootes : we have, 
 besides, cups made out of homes of beasts, 
 of cocker-nuts, of goords,' of the eggs of 
 ostriches ; others made of the shells of 
 divers fishes, brought from the Indieiand 
 other places, and shining like mother of 
 peaile. Come to plate ; every taverne can 
 afford you flat bowles, French bowles, 
 prounet cups, beare bowles, beakers : and 
 private householders in the citie-, when 
 they make a feast to entertaine their friends, 
 can furnish their cupboards with flagons, 
 tankards, beere-cups, wine-bowles, some 
 white, some percell gilt, some gilt all 
 over, some with covers, others without, of 
 sundry shapes and qualities."* From this 
 iti appears that our ancestors had as great 
 a variety of drinking vessels as of liquors, 
 in some of which they were wont to infuse 
 rosemary. 
 
 Rosemary, 
 
 In a popular account of the- manners of 
 an old country squire, he is represented 
 as stirring his cool-tankard with a sprig of 
 rosemary. Likewise, at weddings, it was 
 usual to dip this grateful plant in the cup, 
 and drink to the health of the new-married 
 couple.f Thus, a character in an old 
 play,t says, 
 
 Before we divide 
 
 Our army, let us dip our rosemaries 
 
 In one rich bowl of sack, to this brave girl. 
 
 And to the gentleman. 
 
 Rosemary was borne in the hand at 
 marriages. Its virtues are enhanced in a 
 curious wedding sermon.§ " The rose- 
 
 * Heywood's Philocothonista, 1635, Brand. 
 
 t Nares. 
 
 t The-City Madam. 
 
 § A Marriage Present by Roger Hackett, D. D. 
 
 1607, 4to., cited by Brand. 
 
 mary is for married men, the w'lich, bjf 
 name, nature, and continued use, mai* 
 cliallengeth as properly belonging to him- 
 setfj It bvertoppeth all the flowers in the 
 garden, boasting man's rule: it helptth 
 the brain, strengtheneth the memory, ana 
 is very medicinal for the head. Another 
 property is, it aflects the heart. Let this 
 ros marinus, this flowef of man, ertsigti 
 of your wisdom, love, and! loyalty, be- 
 carried, not only in your' hands, but in 
 yout heads and hearts." 
 
 At a wedding of three sisters together, 
 in 1660i we read of " fine flowers and' 
 rosemary strewed for them, coining KoASe; 
 and so, to the father's house, where was'a 
 gxeat dinner prepared for his said three 
 bride-daughters, with their brideerboVns 
 and company."* Old playsf frequetitly 
 mention the use of rosemary on thesfe oc- 
 casikinsi In a scene immediately before i 
 wedding, we have 
 
 Lew. Pray: take a piece of rosemary. 
 . Mir, I'll wear it. 
 
 But, for the lady's sake, and none of 
 yours.J 
 
 In another we fiiiS " the parties enter 
 with rosemary, as from a wedding.''§ 
 Again, a character speaking of an intended 
 bridegroom's first arrival, says, " look, an 
 the wenches ha' not found un out, and do 
 present un with a van of rosemary, and 
 bays enough to vill a bow-pot, or trim the 
 head of ray best vore-horse." {| It was an 
 old. country custom to deck the bridal-bed 
 with sprigs of rosemary .![ 
 
 Rosemary denoted rejoicing. Hence 
 in an account of a joyful entry of qiueen 
 Elizabeth into the city of London, on the 
 14th of January, 1558, there is this passage : 
 "How many nosegays did her gracfe re- 
 ceive at poor women's hands ? How 
 often-times stayed she her chariot, when 
 she saw any simple body offer to speak to 
 her grace ? A btianch of rosemaiy; given 
 to her grace, with a siipplication b'y apoor 
 woman, about Fleet Bridge^ was seen in 
 her chariot till her grace came to West- 
 minster." 
 
 It is a! jocular saying, among country 
 people, that, where the rosemary-bushflovi- 
 
 * Stow's Survey, by Strype. 
 
 t Cited by Brand. 
 
 t Elder Brother, a Play, 1637, 4to. 
 
 § Woman's Pride, by Fletcher. 
 
 II Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub. 
 
 % Brand. 
 
s9 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK,— JANUARY 4. 
 
 40 
 
 rishes in the cottage garden, " the grey 
 mare is the better horse ;" that is, the wife 
 manages the husband. 
 
 Shakspeare intimates the old popular 
 applications of this herb. It was esteemed 
 as strengthening to the memory ; and to 
 that end Ophelia presents it to Laertes. 
 "There's rosemary, that's for remem- 
 brance ; pray you, love, remember." In 
 allusion to its bridal use, Juliet's nurse 
 asks Romeo, " Doth not rosemary and 
 Romeo both begin with a letter ? " And 
 she intimates Juliet's fondness for him, by 
 saying, " she hath the prettiest sensations 
 of it, of you and rosemary, that it would 
 do you good to hear it." The same play 
 denotes its use at funerals. When friar 
 Laurence and Paris, with musicians, on 
 Juliet's intended bridal, enter her cham- 
 ber, and find her on the bed, surrounded 
 by the Capulet family, mourning for her 
 death, he sympathises with their affliction, 
 and concludes by directing the rosemary 
 prepared for the wedding to be used in 
 the offices of the burial : — 
 
 Stick your rosemary 
 On this fair corse ; and; as tlie custom is. 
 In all her best array, bear her to church. 
 
 Of a bride who died of the plague on 
 her wedding-night it is said, " Here is a 
 strange alteration ; for the rosemary that 
 was washed in sweet water, to set out the 
 bridal, is now wet in tears to furnish her 
 burial."* 
 
 It was usual at weddings to dip the 
 rosemary in scented waters. Respecting 
 a bridal, it is asked in an old play, " Were 
 the rosemary branches dipped ? "-f Some 
 of Herrick's verses show that rosemary at 
 weddings was sometimes gilt. 
 
 The two-fold use of this fragrant herb 
 is declared in the Hesperides by an apos- 
 trophe. 
 
 To the Rosemary Branch. 
 
 Grow for two ends, it matters not at all. 
 Be 't for my bridal or my burial 
 
 One of a well-known set of engrav. 
 mgs, by Hogarth, represents the com- 
 pany assembled for a funeral, with sprigs 
 of rosemary in their hands. A French 
 traveller, in England, in the reign of 
 William III., describing our burial so- 
 lemnities and the preparation of the 
 mourners, says, " when they are ready to 
 set out, they nail up the coffin, and a 
 
 » Dekker's Wonderful Year, 1603, 4to. 
 
 t Beaumont and Fletcher's Sconifn Lady, 
 
 1616, 4to. 
 
 servant presents the company with sprigs 
 of rosemary : every one takes a sprig, 
 and carries it in his hand till the body is 
 put into the grave, at which time they all 
 throw their sprigs in after it."* A charac- 
 ter in an old play,t requests 
 
 If there be 
 Any so kind as to accompany 
 My body to the earth, let there not want 
 For entertainment. Prithee, see they have 
 A sprig of rosemary, dipt in common water. 
 To smell at as they walk along the streets. 
 
 In 1649, at the funeral of Robert 
 Lockier, who was shot for mutiny, the 
 corpse was adorned with bundles of rose- 
 mary on each side, one half of each was 
 stained with blood. At the funeral of a 
 country girl, it is said, that. 
 
 To show their love, the neighbours far and 
 
 near 
 FoUow'd with wistful looks the damsel's bier; 
 Sprigg'd rosemary the lads and lasses bore. 
 While dismally the parson walk'd before ; 
 Upon her grave the rosemary they threw — J 
 
 The funeral use of this herb, and its 
 budding in the present month, are the 
 subject of a poem, transcribed from a 
 fugitive copy, without the author's name. 
 
 TO THE HERB ROSEMARY. 
 1. 
 Sweet-scented flower ! who art wont to bloom 
 
 On January's front severe. 
 
 And o'er the wintry desert drear 
 To waft thy waste perfume ! 
 Come, thou shalt form my nosegay now. 
 And I will bind thee round my brow ; 
 
 And, as I twine the mournful wreath, 
 I'll weave a melancholy song ; 
 And sweet the strain shall be, and long. 
 
 The melody of death. 
 2. 
 Come, funeral flow'r ! who lov'st to dwel. 
 
 With the pale corse in lonely, tomb. 
 
 And throw across the tleaert gloom 
 A sweet decaying smell. 
 Come, pressing lips, and lie with me 
 Beneath the lonely alder tree. 
 
 And we will sleep a pleasant sleep. 
 And not a care shall dare intrude. 
 To break the marble solitude. 
 
 So peaceful and so deep. 
 3. 
 And hark ! the wind-god, as he flies. 
 
 Moans hollow in the forest trees. 
 
 And, sailing on the gusty breeze. 
 Mysterious music dies. 
 
 Misson, p. 91. t Cartwrights' Ordinary, 
 t Gay's Shepherd's Week. 
 
41 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 5, 
 
 43 
 
 Sweet flower ! that requiem wild is mine. 
 It warns me to tlie lonely shrine. 
 
 The cold turf altar of the dead ; 
 My grave shall be in yon lone spot. 
 Where as I lie, by all forgot, 
 
 A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my ashes 
 shed. 
 
 
 h. in. 
 
 January 4. — Day breaks . . 
 
 . 5 38 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 8 3 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 . 3 57 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 6 2 
 
 The screw moss fructifies. 
 
 
 gfanuats 5. 
 
 Paul Van Somer, an artist of great 
 merit, born at Antwerp in 1576, died in 
 London, and was buried at St. Martins in 
 the fields on the Sth of January 1621. 
 His pencil was chiefly employed on por- 
 traits of royal, noble, and eminent person- 
 ages. He painted James 1. at Windsor, 
 and Hampton Court ; the lord chancel- 
 lor Bacon, and his brother Nicholas, at 
 Gorhambury; Thomas Howard earl of 
 Arundel, and his lady Alathea Talbot, at 
 Worksop; William earl of Pembroke, at 
 St. James's ; and the fine whole-length of 
 the first earl of Devonshire in his robes, 
 " equal," says Walpole " to the pencil of 
 Vandyke, and one of the finest single 
 figures I have seen." 
 
 Van Somer seems to have been the first 
 of tbose artists who, after the accession of 
 James I., arrived and established them- 
 selves in England and practised a skilful 
 management of the chiaro-scuro. His 
 portraits were admired for great elegance 
 of attitude, and remarkable resem- 
 blance. 
 
 It was fortunate for the arts that king 
 James had no liking towards them and 
 let them take their own CQurse; for he 
 would probably have meddled to intro- 
 duce as bad a taste in art as he did in 
 literature.* Hayley says, 
 James, both for empire and for arts unfit. 
 
 His sense a quibble, and a pun his wit. 
 
 Whatever works he patronised debased ; 
 
 But happy left the pencil undisgraccd. 
 
 Zeuxis, the renowned painter of an- 
 tiquity, flourished 400 years before the 
 birth of Christ, and raised to great perfec- 
 tion the art which the labours of Apol- 
 
 • Walpole's Painters. 
 
 lodori^s had obtained to be esteemed. 
 Zeuxis invented the disposition of light 
 and shadow, and was distinguished fo 
 coloring. He excelled in painting females 
 his most celebrated production was a pic- 
 ture of Helen, forwhich five of the loveliest 
 virgins of Crotona in Italy sat to him by 
 order of the council of the city. Yet he is 
 said to have lost the prize for painting in 
 a contest with Parrhasius. The story runs, 
 that Zeuxis's picture represented grapes 
 so naturally that the birds flew down to 
 peck at them ; and that Parrhasius's pic- 
 ture represented a curtain, which Zeuxis 
 taking to be a real one desired to be drawn 
 aside to exhibit what his adversary had 
 done : On finding his mistake, he said that 
 he had only deceived birds, whereas Parr- 
 hasius had deceived a master of the art. 
 To some who blamed his slowness in 
 working, he answered, that it was true he- 
 was long in painting his designs, but they 
 were designed for posterity. One of his 
 best pieces was Hercules in his cradle 
 strangling serpents in the sight of his af- 
 frighted mother; but he himse.f preferred 
 his picture of a wrestler, under-which he 
 wrote, "It is more easy to blame than to 
 imitate this picture." He is the first 
 painter we read of who exhibited the pro 
 ductions of his pencil for money.* 
 
 Zeuxis was succeeded by Apelles, who 
 never passed a day without handling his 
 pencil, and painted such admirable like- 
 nesses, that they were studied by the phy- 
 siognomists. 
 
 We speak of the Romans as ancients ; 
 the Romans spoke of the Greeks as 
 ancients ; and the Greeks of the Egyptians 
 as their ancients, it is certain that from 
 them they derived most of their knowledge 
 in art and 'science. If the learning of 
 Egypt were now in the world, our attain- 
 ments would dwindle into nothingness. 
 The tombs and mummies of the Egyptians 
 show their skill in the preparation of co- 
 lors and that they practised the arts of 
 design and painting. Vast monuments of 
 their mighty powers in architecture and 
 sculpture still remain. We derive froni 
 them, through the Greeks, the signs of 
 the zodiac. 
 
 The Greeks painted on canvas or linen, 
 placed their pictures in frames, and de- 
 corated their walls with designs in fresco. 
 Their sculpture contained portraits of dis- 
 
 • Bayle. 
 
43 
 
 TlllL YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 6. 
 
 4)4 
 
 tinguislied personages, in which they were 
 ifnitiited by the Romans. The frieze of 
 the Parthenon is supposed to represent 
 portraits of Pericles, Phidias, Socrates, 
 amd Alcibiades. Nero caused to be exhi- 
 bited a portmit of himself on a canvas 
 T20 feet high. 
 
 fection of the apothecaries can equal their 
 excellent virtue. But these delights are lu 
 the outward senses ; the principal delight 
 is in the mind, singularly enriched with 
 the knowledge of these visible things, 
 setting forth to us the invisible wisdom 
 and admirable workmanship of Almighty 
 God." 
 
 The Anglo-Saxgns illuminated their man- 
 uscripts with miniatures ; from this prac- 
 tice of illuminating we 4erive t^^ word 
 limning, for painting. The term illumina- 
 tor was corrupted to Jimner. The Anglo- 
 Normans decorated our churches with 
 pictures. In the cathedral of Canterbury, 
 built in the eleventh century, their pic- 
 tures were esteemed very beautiful. The 
 art of painting in oil is ascribed in many 
 works to Van Eyok of Bruges, who died 
 in 1 442, but oil was used in the art long 
 before he lived. Our Henry III. in 1236 
 issued a precept for a wainscoaled room 
 in Windsor Castle to be " re-painted, with 
 the same stories as before," which order 
 VValpole parallels with the caution of the 
 Roman Munaraius, to the shipmasters who 
 t ranisported fhe master-pieces of Corinthian 
 sculpture to Rome — "If you break or 
 spoil them,' he said, "you shall ftnd 
 others in their room."* 
 
 Our old herbalist John Gerard, in dedi- 
 cating his "Historie of Plants" to the 
 great Secretary G-ecil, Lord Burleigh, thus 
 eloquently begins ; " Among the manifold 
 creatures of God, that have in all ages 
 diversely entertained many excellent wits, 
 and drawn them to the contemplation of 
 the divine wisdom, none hafve provoked 
 men's studies more, or satisfied their de- 
 sires so much, as plants have done ; and 
 that upon just and worthy causes. For, if 
 delight may provoke men's labor, what 
 greater delight is there than to behold the 
 earth apparelled with plants, as with a robe 
 of embroidered work, set with orient pearls, 
 and garnished with great diversity of rare 
 and costly jewels ? If variety and perfec- 
 tion of colors may affect the eye, it is 
 such in herbs and flowers, thatnoApelles,, 
 no Zeuxis, ever could by any art express 
 the like : if odors or if taste may work 
 satisfaction, they are both so sovereign in 
 plants, and so comfortable, that no con- 
 
 * Andrews Forbrokc. 
 
 January 5. — Day breaks ... 5 .58 
 Sun rises . ... 8 2 
 — sets .... 3 58 • 
 Twilight ends . . 6 
 The oearsfoot, HeUebomsfatidits,flovicK, 
 
 EpipHAsy— Twelfth Day. 
 
 In addition to the usage, still continued, 
 of drawing king and queen on Twelfth 
 night, Barnaby Googe's versification de- 
 scribes a disused custom among the 
 people, of censing a loaf and themselves 
 as a preservative against sickness and 
 -witchcraft throughout the year. 
 
 Twise sixe nightes then from Christmassc/ 
 
 they do count -with dilligcncc. 
 Wherein eche maister in his house 
 
 doth burne by franckensence : 
 And on the table settes a loafe, 
 
 when night approcheth nere. 
 Before .the coles and franHensence 
 
 to be perfumed there : " 
 First bowing downe his headehc standes, 
 
 and nose and eares, and eyes 
 He smokes, a^d with his mouth rcceyvcs 
 
 the fume that doth arise : 
 Whom foUoweth streight his wife, and dolh 
 
 the same full solemly. 
 And of their children every one, 
 
 and all their family : 
 Which doth preserue they say their teolli, 
 
 and nose, and eyes, and care. 
 From euery kind of maladie, 
 
 and sicknpsse all the yeare. 
 When every one receyued hath 
 
 this odour great and small. 
 Then one takes up the pan with coalcSji 
 
 and franckensence and all. 
 An other takes the loafe, whom all 
 
 the reast do follow here. 
 And round about. the house they gq, 
 
 wilh torch or taper clere, 
 _That neither bread nor meat do want, 
 
 nor witch with dreadful charme, 
 Hauc power to hurl their children, or 
 
 to do thciT cattcU harmc. 
 
45 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 6. 
 
 46 
 
 There aie that three nightes onely do 
 
 perfourme this foolish geare, 
 To this intent, aad thinke themselues 
 
 in safetie all the yeare* 
 
 It appears that in the reign of Alfred a 
 law was made relative to holidays which 
 ordained the twelve days after the nativi- 
 ty to be kept as festivals.f 
 
 The grand state of the Sovereign, on 
 Twefth day, and the manner of keeping fes- 
 tival at court, in the reign of king Henry 
 VII., are set forth in Le Neve's MS. 
 called the Royalle Book, " to the following 
 effect: — 
 
 As for Twelfth Day the king must go 
 crovfned in his royal robes, kirtle, surcoat, 
 his furred hood about his neck, his mantle 
 with a long train, and his cutlas before 
 him ; 'his armills upon his arms, of gold set 
 full of rich stones ; and no temporal man 
 to touch it, but the king himself; and the 
 squire for the body must bring it to the king 
 in a fair kercheif, and the kingmust put them 
 on himself; and he must have his sceptre 
 in his right hand, and the ball with the 
 cross in the left hand, and the crown upon 
 his head. And he must offer that day 
 gold, myrrh, and sense; then must the 
 dean of the chapel send unto the arch- 
 Dishop of Canterbury by clerk or priest the 
 king's offering that day ; and then must 
 the archbishop give the next benefice that 
 falleth in his gift to the same messenger. 
 And then the king must change his mantle 
 when he goeth to meat, and take off his, 
 hood and lay it about his neck, and clasp 
 it before with a great rich ouche ; and this 
 must be of the same color that he offered 
 in. And the queen in the same form 
 when she is crowned. 
 
 The same day that he goeth crowned 
 he ought to go to matins ; to which array 
 belongeth his kirtle, surcoat, tabard, and 
 his furred hood slyved over his head, and 
 rolled about his neck ; and on his he<d his 
 cap of estate, and his sword before him. 
 
 At even- song he must go in his kirtle, and 
 surcoat, and hood laid about his shoulders, 
 and clasp the tippet and hood together 
 before his breast with a great rich ouche, 
 and his hat of estate upon his liead. 
 
 As for the Void on the Twelfth night 
 the king and the queen ought to have it in 
 the hall. And as for the wassail, the 
 steward, the treasurer and the controller, 
 
 Naogeorgus, Popish Kingdome. 
 t Collier's Ecclcs. Hist. 
 
 shall come for it with their staves in their 
 hands ; the king's sewer and the queen's 
 ha,ving fair towels about their necks, and 
 dishes in their hands, such as the king and 
 the queen shall eat of : the king's carvers 
 and the queen's shall come after with 
 chargers or dishes, such as the king or the 
 queen shall eat of, and with towels about 
 their necks. And no man shall bear any 
 thing unless sworn for three months. And 
 the steward, treasurer, comptroller, and 
 marshal of the hall shall ordain for all the 
 hall. And, if it be in the great chamber, 
 then shall the chamberlain and ushers or- 
 dain after the above form ; And if there be 
 a Bishop, his own squire, or else the 
 king's, such as the officers choose to assign, 
 shall serve him : And so of all the other 
 estates, if they be dukes or earls ; and so 
 of duchesses and countesses. And then 
 there must come in the ushers of the cham- 
 ber with the pile of cups, the king's cups 
 and the queen's, and the bishop's, with the 
 butlers and wine to the cupboard, and then 
 a squire for the body to bear the cup, and 
 another for the queen's cup, such as is 
 sworn for hire. 
 
 The [singers of the chapel] may stand at 
 the one side of the hall : and when the 
 steward cometh in at the hall door, with the 
 wassail, he must cry thrice " Wassaile,"&c., 
 and then shall the chapel answer it anon 
 with a good song : and thus in like wise 
 if it please the king to keep the great cham- 
 ber. And then when the king and queen 
 have done they will go in to the chamber. 
 And there belongeth, for the king, two 
 lights with the void, and two lights with 
 the cup ; and for the queen as many.* 
 
 Few are unmoved by either agreeable 
 or painful feelings, on account of ancient 
 customs coming to their notice. We are 
 in general similarly, and more affected 
 by recollections of sports familiar and 
 lear to our childhood, ;which man, more 
 than time, has changed, sometimes really, 
 and always to our thinking, for the worse. 
 In this place it is convenient to arrange 
 for an engraving on the next page, and 
 there not being a subject appropriate to a 
 design for the day under notice, I pre- 
 sume, under favor, upon introducing a 
 brief notice, with an engraving of an old 
 place which I knew when a child, and 
 which when I see or think of it, associaiesf 
 with some of my fondest remembrances. 
 
 • Autiq. Rep. 
 
47 
 
 THE YliAIl BOOK. -JANUARY 6. 
 
 48 
 
 THE ADAM AND EVE, HAMPSTEAD ROAD. 
 
 These premises are at the corner of the 
 Uampstead Road, and the New Road to 
 Paddington, which is the site of the old 
 manor house of Toten Hall. Tliis was a 
 lordship belonging to the deans of St. 
 Paul's Cathedral at the time of the Nor- 
 man conquest. In 1560 it demised to 
 the crown, an4 has always since been 
 held on lease. In 1768 the manor vested 
 in Lord Southampton, whose heirs pay 
 an annuity, in lieu of a reserved rent, tp 
 the prebendary of Tottenham. Contigur 
 ous to the Adam and Eve, and near tlie 
 reservoir of the New River Company, iq 
 the Hampstead road, there ■was Isitely 
 stapding an angient house, called, in va- 
 rious old recorfis. King John's Palace. 
 
 The Adam and Eve is now denomin- 
 ated a coffee-house, and that part which 
 has been bujlt pf late years, ancj fronts 
 the Paddington New road, with the sign- 
 board at the top corner, is used for tavern 
 purposes, and connects with the older 
 part of the building ; the entrance to which 
 is through the gateway with the lamp 
 over it, in the Hampstead road. Within 
 my recollection it was a house standing 
 
 alone, with spacious gardens in the rear 
 and at the sides, and a fore-court with 
 large timber trees, and tables and benches 
 for out-of-door customers. In the gardens , 
 were fruit-trees, and bowers, and arbours, 
 for tea-drinking parties. In the rear 
 there were not any houses j now there iq 
 a town. 
 
 At that time the " Adam and Eve Tea 
 Gardens" were resorted to by thousands, 
 as the end of a short walic into the coun- 
 try ; and the trees were allowed to grow 
 and expand naturally, unrestricted by art 
 or fashion, which then were unknown tq 
 many such places as this, and others in 
 the vicinage of London. At that time, 
 too, there was only one Paddington stsjgeil 
 It was driven by the proprietor, or, rar 
 ther, tediously dragged, along the clayey 
 road from Paddington to the city, in the 
 morning, and performed its journey ip 
 about two hours and a-half, " quick time." 
 It returned to Paddington in the evening^ 
 within three hours from its leaving the 
 city; this was deemed " fair time," consi- 
 dering the necessity for precaution against 
 the accidents of " night travelling!" 
 
»9 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 6. 
 
 SO 
 
 Twelfth Dai/ resumed. 
 Some notion may be formed of the great 
 revelries in all ranks of society, on Twelfth 
 night, from this fact that in 1622 the 
 gentlemen of Grays Inn, to make an end of 
 Christmas, shot off all the chambers they 
 had borrowed from the tower^ being as 
 many as filled four carts. The king 
 (James I.) awakened with the noise started 
 out of bed and cried "Treason ! Treason !" 
 The court was raised and almost in arms,' 
 the earl of Arundel with his sword drawn 
 ran to the bed chamber to rescue the king's 
 person, and the city was in an uproar.* 
 
 On January 6th, 1662, being Twelfth 
 night, Mr. Evelyn records in his diary as 
 follows : — This evening, according to cus- 
 tom, his majesty (Charles II.) opened the 
 revels of that night by throwing the dice 
 himself in the privy chamber, where was a 
 table set on purpose, and lost his £100 
 (the year before he won £1500). The ladies 
 also played very deep. I came away when 
 the duke of Ormopd had won about £1000 
 and left them still at passage, cards, &c., at 
 other tables : both there and at |he groom 
 porter's, observing the wicked folly and 
 monstrous excess of passion amongst some 
 losers ; sorry I am that such a wretched 
 custom as play to that excess should be 
 countenanced in a court which ought to 
 be an example to the rest of the kingdom.'' 
 Passage. 
 
 This game, called in French Passe dix, 
 was played with dice, is still a mil- 
 itary game, and mentioned by the late 
 Capt. Grose as " A camp game with three 
 dice : and doublets making up ten or more, 
 to pass or win ; any other chances lose." It 
 is more largely described, in the " Com- 
 plefe Gamester, 1 680," thus :— "Passage is 
 a game at dice to be plaj'ed at but by tv/o, 
 and it is performed with three dice. The 
 caster throws continually till he hath 
 thrown doublets under ten, and then he is 
 out and loseth, or doublets above ten, and 
 then he passeth and wins.'' The stock or 
 fimd, as also the place where the game is 
 played, is called the Pass-bank.-)- 
 
 On Twelfth Day the Carnival at Rome 
 begins,;and generally continues until ,the 
 ensuing Lent. This celebratad amusement 
 is described by Lady Morgan, in " Italy," 
 as follows : — 
 
 • Ifichols's Progresses, James I. iv. 751. 
 t Nares, 
 
 The Carnival commences on Twelfth-* 
 day ; but its public festivities are reserved 
 for the last week or ten days. Formerly, 
 they commenced with an execution, a 
 criminal being reserved for the purpose. 
 But this custom Cardinal Gonsalvi, to his 
 great honour, abolished. The Carnival 
 holds out some most favorable traits of 
 the actual condition of the Italians ; for, if 
 the young and profligate abuse its days of 
 indulgence, a large portion of the middle 
 and inferior classes are exhibited to public 
 observation in the touching and respect- 
 able aspect of domestic alliance and family 
 enjoyment ; which under all laws, all reli- 
 gions, and all governments, those classes 
 best preserve. A group of three genera- 
 tions frequently presents itself, crowded 
 into an open carriage, or ranged on hired 
 chairs along the Corso, or towering emu- 
 lou.sly one above the other in galleries 
 erected near the starting-post of the course ; 
 taking no other part in the brilliant tumult 
 than as the delighted spectators of a most 
 singular and amusing scene. For several 
 days before the beginning of these festivi- 
 ties, " the city of the dead" exhibits the 
 agitation, biistle, and hurry of the living. 
 The shops are converted into wardrobes ; 
 whole streets are lined with masks and 
 dominos, the robes of sultans and jackets 
 of pantaloons; canopies are suspended, 
 balconies and windows festooned with 
 hangings and tapestry ; and scaffolds are 
 erected for the accommodation of those 
 who have not the interest to obtain admis- 
 sion to the houses and palaces along the 
 whole line of the Corso. 
 
 At the sound of the cannon, which,' 
 fired from the Piazza di Venezia, each day 
 announce the commencement of the 
 amusements, shops are closed, palaces 
 deserted, and the Corso's long and narrow 
 defile teems with nearly the whole of the 
 Roman population. "The scene then ex- 
 hibited is truly singular, and, for the first 
 day or two, infinitely amusing. The 
 whole length of the street, from the Porta 
 del Popolo to the foot of the Capitol, a 
 distance of considerably more than a mile, 
 is patrolled by troops of cavalry; the 
 windows and balconies are crowded from 
 the first to the sixth story by spectators 
 and actors, who from time to time descend 
 and take their place and parts in the pro- 
 cession of carriages, or among the maskers 
 on foot. Here and there the monk's 
 crown, and cardinal's red skull-cap, are 
 seen peeping among heads not more fan- 
 tastic than their own. The chairs and 
 
51 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 6. 
 
 58 
 
 scaffolding along the sides of the streets 
 are filled to crushing, with maskers, and 
 country folk in their gala dresses (by far 
 the most grotesque that the carnival 
 produces). The centre of the Corso is 
 occupied by the carriages of princes, po- 
 tentates, the ambassadors of all nations, 
 and the municipality of Rome ; and the 
 two lines of carriages, moving in opposite 
 directions on each side, are filled by 
 English peers, Irish commoners, Polish 
 counts, Spanish Grandees, German ba- 
 rons, Scotch lairds, and French marquises; 
 but, above all, by the hired jobs of the 
 badauds and pizzicaroli of Rome. These 
 form not the least curious and interesting 
 part of the procession, and best represent 
 the carnival, as it existed a century back. 
 In an open carriage sits, bolt upright, la 
 signora padrona, or mistress of the family, 
 her neck covered with rows of coral, 
 pearl, or false gems ; her white satin robe, 
 and gaudy head- dress, left to " the pitiless 
 pelting of the storm," showered indiscri- 
 minately from all the houses, and by the 
 pedestrians, on the occupants of carriages, 
 in the form of sugar-plums, but in sub- 
 stance of plaster of Paris, or lime. Op- 
 posite to her sits her euro sposo, or 
 husband, dressed as a grand sultan, or 
 Muscovite czar : while all the little signo- 
 rini of the family, male and female, 
 habited as harlequins, columbines, and 
 kings and queens, are crammed into the 
 carriage : even the coachman is supplied 
 with a dress, and appears in the character 
 of an elderly lady, or an Arcadian shep- 
 herdess ; and the footman takes the guise 
 of an English miss, or a French court 
 lady, and figures in a spencer and short 
 petticoat, or, accoutred with a hoop and 
 a fan, salutes the passers-by with " buon 
 giour, messieurs." 
 
 At the ave maria, or fall of day, the can- 
 non again fire, as a signal to clear the 
 street for the horse course. All noise then 
 ceases ; the carriages file off by the nearest 
 avenue; their owners scramble to their 
 windows, balconies, chairs, or scaffolds ; 
 while the pedestrians that have no such 
 resources, driven by the soldiery from the 
 open street, are crowded on the footways, 
 to suffocation. But no terror, no disci- 
 pline, can restrain their ardor to see the 
 first starting of the horses. 
 
 A temporary barrier, erected near the 
 Porta del Popolo, is. the point from which 
 the race commences; another, on the 
 Piazza di Venezia, is the termination of 
 the course. The horses are small and of 
 
 little value. They have no rider, but are 
 placed each in a stall behind a rope, 
 which is dropped as soon as the moment 
 for starting arrives, when the animals 
 seldom require to be put in motion by 
 force. A number of tinfoil and paper 
 flags are stuck over their haunches ; small 
 pointed bodies are placed to operate as a 
 spur; and the noise and the pain of 
 these decorations serve to put the horse 
 on its full speed, to which it is further 
 urged by the shouting of the populaces, 
 At the sound of tVio trumpet (the signal 
 for starting), even at the approach of the 
 officer who gives the order, the animals 
 exhibit their impatience to be off, and 
 they continue their race, or rather their 
 fljghf, amidst the screams, plaudits, and 
 vivats of the people of all ranks. This 
 scene forms the last act of each day's 
 spectacle, when every one is obliged to 
 quit his carnival habit ; for it is only on 
 one or two particular evenings that there 
 is a masked carnival at the aliberte. 
 
 Twelfth Day Table Diversion. 
 
 John Nott, editor of the Cook and 
 Confectioners' Dictionary, 1725, describ- 
 ing himself as late cook to the dukes of 
 Somerset, Ormond, and Batton, and the 
 lords Lansdown and Ashbumham, pre- 
 serves in that work, "some divertise- 
 ments^' which were used in old times, on 
 twelfth day and other festivals. His ac- 
 count is to this effect : — 
 
 Ancient artists in cookery inform us 
 that, in former days, when good house>- 
 keeping was in fashion amongst the 
 English nobility, they used either to 
 begin or concluSde their entertainments, 
 and divert their guests, with such pretty 
 devices as these following, viz. : 
 
 A castle made of paste-board, with 
 gates, draw-bridges, battlements, and port- 
 cullises, all done over with paste, was set 
 upon the table in a large charger, with 
 salt laid round about it, as if it were the 
 ground, in which were stuck egg-shells 
 ftiU of rose, or other sweet waters, the 
 meat of the egg having been taken out by 
 a great pin. Upon the battlements of the 
 castle were planted kexes, covered over 
 with paste, in the form of cannons, and 
 made to look like brass, by covering them 
 with dutch leaf-gold. These cannons being 
 charged with gunpowder, and trains laid* 
 so that you might fire as many of them as 
 you pleased, at one touch ; this castle was 
 set at one end of the table. 
 
 Then, in the middle of the table, they 
 
53 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 6. 
 
 54 
 
 would set a stag, made of paste, but hol- 
 low, and filled with claret wine, and a 
 broad arrow stuck in his side ; this was 
 also set in a large charger, with a ground 
 made of salt, having egg-shells of perfumed 
 waters stuck in it, as beft- re. 
 
 Then, at the other end of the table, they 
 would have a ship made of pasteboard, 
 and covered all over with paste, with 
 masts, sails, flags, and streamers; and 
 guns made of kexes, covered with paste 
 and charged with gunpowder, with a 
 train, as in the castle. This, being placed 
 in a large charger, was set tipright in, as 
 it were, a sea of salt, in which were also 
 stuck egg-shells full of perfumed waters. 
 
 Then, betwixt the stag and castle, and 
 the stag and ship, were placed two -pies 
 made «t' coarse paste, filled with bran, and 
 washed over with saflVon and the yolks of 
 eggs: when these were baked, the bran 
 was taken out, -a hole was cut in the bot- 
 tom of each, and live birds put into one 
 and frogs into tfie other; then the holes 
 were closed up with paste, and the lids 
 neatly cut up, so that they might be easily 
 taken ofiF by the funnels, and adorned with 
 gilded laurels. 
 
 These being thus prepared, and placed 
 in Order on the table, one of the ladies 
 vvas persuaded to draw the arrow out of 
 the body of the stag, which being done, 
 the claret wine issued forth like blood from 
 a wound, and caused admiration in the 
 spectators ; which being over, after a little 
 pause, all the guns on one side of the 
 castle were, by a train, discharged against 
 the ship ; and afterwards, the guns of one 
 side of the ship were discharged against 
 the castle ; then, h»pg turned the 
 chargers, the other side^ere fired off, as 
 in a battle : this causing a great smell of 
 powder, the ladies or gentlemen took up 
 the egg-shells of perfumed, water ■ and 
 threw them at one another. Tbis pleasant 
 disorder being pretty well Isnghed overj 
 and the two great pies still remaining 
 untouched, some one or other would have 
 the curiosity to see what was in them, 
 and, on lifting. up the lid of one pie, out 
 would jump the frogs, which would make 
 the ladies skip' and scamper ; and^ on 
 lifting up the lid of the other, out would 
 fly the birds, which would naturally fly at 
 the light, and so put ■ out t]»e candles. 
 And so, with the leapingof the frogs below, 
 and the flying of the birds above, would 
 cause a surprising and divertingburly- 
 burly amongst the guests, in the dark. 
 After which, the candles being lighted, the 
 
 banquet would be brought in, the music 
 sound, and the particulars of each person's 
 surprise and adventures furnish matter 
 for diverting discourse. 
 
 Sttbtilties. 
 
 The art of confectionery was anciently 
 employed in all solemn feasts, with the 
 most profuse delicacy. After each course 
 was a " subtilty." Subtilties were re- 
 presentations of castles, giants, saints, 
 knights, ladies and beasts, all raised in 
 pastry ; upon which legends and coat 
 armor were painted in their proper colors. 
 At the festival, on the coronation of 
 Henry VI., in 1429, there was " a subtilty 
 of St. Edvftard, aud St. Louis, armed, and 
 upon either, his coat armor;' holding 
 between them a figure of king Henry, 
 standing also in his coat armor; and an 
 incription passing from both, saying, 
 ' Beholde twoe pecfecte kynges vnder one 
 coate armoure.'"* 
 
 WALSALL DOLE. 
 £Commuaicated by S. P.] 
 
 Tlie following account of a penny dole, 
 gwen formerly on twelfth day, at Walsall, 
 in Staffordshire, is derived from " An 
 al)stract of the title of the town of Wal- 
 sall, in ■ Stafford, to valuable estates at 
 Basoott, &c., in the county of Warwick, 
 with remarks by James Cottrell, 1818." 
 
 In 1453 Thomas Moseley made a 
 feoffment of certain estates, to William 
 Lyle and William Maggot, and their 
 heirs, in trust, for the use of the town of 
 Walsall ; but John Lyle, son of William 
 Lyle, to whom these estates would have 
 descended, instead of applying the pro- 
 duce of the estates for the use of the 
 town, kept them, and denied that the 
 property was in trust, pretending it to be 
 his own inheritance ; but the inhabitants 
 of Walsall not choosing to be so cheated, 
 some of thetn went to Moxhal, and drove 
 away Lyle's cattle, which unjustifiable act 
 he did not resent, because he was liable 
 to be brought to account for the trust 
 estate in his hands. At length a suit was 
 commenced by the town against Lyle, 
 and the estates in question were adjudged 
 for. the use of the town of Walsall. Ac- 
 cordingly, in 1515, John Lyle of Moxhal, 
 near Coleshill, Warwickshire, suffered a 
 recovery, whereby these estates passed to 
 Richard Hunt, and John Ford, and they, 
 in 1516, made a feoffment of the land, to 
 
 ♦ Fabyaii — Dallaway's Heraldic Inq. 182. 
 
55 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 6. 
 
 56 
 
 divers inhabitants ot the town of Walsall, 
 in trust, and so it continues in the hand 
 of trustees to this day. In 1539 the first 
 mention appears to have been made 
 of the penny dole. On the twelfth 
 eve, being the anniversary for the souls of 
 Thomas Moseley, and Margaret his wife, 
 the bellman went about with his bell, 
 exciting all to kneel down and pray for 
 the souls of Thomas Moseley, and Mar- 
 garet, his wife ; Thomas Moseley never 
 gave this dole, either by feoffment or will ; 
 but, because he had been so good a bene- 
 factor, in giving his lands, &c., in War- 
 wickshire, the town, by way of gratitude, 
 yearly distributed a general dole of one 
 penny each, to young and old, rich and 
 poor; strangers, as well as townspeople; 
 and this was the origin of the dole. 
 
 " It would be a good thing," says Mr. 
 Cottrell, the author of the Abstract, " if 
 this dole was given up, and the rents of 
 tliese valuable estates, which are now con- 
 siderable, were all applied to charitable 
 purposes. The masters of the guild of 
 St. John the Baptist, in Walsall, a reli- 
 gious fraternity, with laws and orders 
 made among themselves, by royal licence, 
 appear at this time to have been the trus- 
 tees; for. they received the rents of these 
 estates, and kept court at Barcott. King 
 John granted to every arch-deacon in 
 
 England a power of gathering from every 
 ' fyer householder,' in every parish, one* 
 penny, which were called Peter pence ; 
 therefore I am inclined to think this reli. 
 gious fraternity were the beginners of this 
 penny dole, which would enable them 
 immediately to pay their Peter Pence or, 
 perhaps they might stop it in the same 
 manner as the bellman does the lord of 
 the manor's penny." 
 
 The dole is now discontinued ; and 
 twelve alms-houses, were built with the 
 money in the hands of the corporation. 
 
 The current tradition is, that Thomas 
 Moseley, passing through Walsall, on 
 twelfth eve, saw a child crying for bread, 
 where others were feasting, and, struck by 
 the circumstance, made over the estates 
 at Barcott, &c., to the town of Walsall, on 
 condition that every year one penny should 
 be given each person on that day, so that 
 no one might witness a like sadnesEi, 
 
 b. n, ' 
 January 6. — Day breaks ... 5 57 
 Sun rises. ... 8 1 
 — sets . . . . 3 59 
 Twilight ends ..63 
 The weather either very cold or very 
 wet. 
 
 CHRISTMAS OtJT OF TOWN. 
 
 For many a winter in Billiter Lane 
 My wife, Mrs. Brown, was ne'er heard to complain : 
 At Christmas the family met there to dine 
 On beef and plum-pudding, and turkey, and chine ; 
 Our bark has now taken a contrary heel, 
 M" wife has found out that the sea is genteel jip 
 To Brighton we duly go scampering down 
 For nobody now spends his Christmas in town. 
 
 In Billiter Lane, at this mirth-moving time, 
 The lamp-lighter brought us his annual rhyme ; 
 ^ The tricks of Grimaldi were sure to be seen ; 
 We carved a twelfth-cake, and we drew king and queen : 
 Now we lodge on the Steine, in a bow-windowed box. 
 That beckons up stairs every zephyr that knocks ; 
 
 The Sun hides his head, and the elements frown- 
 Still, nobody now spends his Christmas in town. 
 
 At Brighton I'm stuck up in Lucombe's Loo-shop 
 Or walk upon bricks, till I'm ready to drop ; 
 Throw stones at an anchor,— look out for a skiff 
 Or view the chain pier from the top of the cliff- ' 
 Till winds from all quarters oblige me to halt, ' 
 With sand in my eyes, ajid my mouth fiill of salt : 
 
 Yet, still, T am suffering with folks of renown- 
 For nobody now spends his Christmas in town. 
 
S7 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 7. 
 
 58 
 
 The wind gallops in at the full of the moon, 
 And puffs up the carpet like Sadler's balloon : 
 My drawing-room rug is besprinkled with soot, 
 And there is not a lock in the house that will shut. 
 At Mahomet's steam bath I lean on my cane, 
 And mutter in secret, — " Ah, Billiter Lane ! " 
 
 But would not express what I think for a crown— 
 For nobody now spends his Christmas in town. 
 
 The duke and the earl are not cronies of mine ; 
 His majesty never invites me to dine; 
 The marquess don't speak when we meet on the pier ; 
 Which makes me suspect that. I'm nobody here : 
 If that be the case, — why then welcome again 
 Twelfth-cake and snap-dragon in Billiter Lane ; 
 
 Next winter I'll prove to my dear Mrs. Brown 
 That Nobody now spends his Christmas in town. 
 
 St. Distaff's Day. 
 
 The day after Epiphany or Twelfth day 
 was called St. Distaff's day by country 
 people, because, the Christmas holidays 
 haviug ended, good housewives resumed 
 the distaif and their other industrious em- 
 ployments 
 
 Plough Monday 
 
 Is the first Monday after Twelfth Day, 
 when agricultural laborers were accustom- 
 ed to draw about a plough and solicit 
 money with guisings, and dancing with 
 swords, preparatory to beginning to plough 
 after the Christmas holidays. In a very few 
 places they still drag the plough, but with- 
 out the sword dance, or any mumming. 
 
 From " A Briefe Relation of the Glean- 
 ings of the Idiotismes agii Absurdities of 
 Miles Corbet esquire, Councellor at Law, 
 Recorder and Burgess for Great Yar- 
 mouth,"* it appears, that the Monday 
 after Twelfth Day is called " Plowhck 
 Monday by the Husbandmen in Norfolk, 
 because on that day they doe first begin 
 to plough." Among the Ancients the 
 « Compitalia were Feasts instituted, some 
 say, by Tarquinius Priscus, in the month 
 of January, and celebrated by servants 
 alone, when their ploughing was over." t 
 
 Sword Dance. 
 
 There is a curious account of the Sword 
 Dance in Olaus Magnus's History of the 
 Northern Nations. He says that the 
 Northern Goths and Swedes have a sport 
 
 wherein they exercise their youth, consist- 
 ing of a Dance with Swords in the follow- 
 ing manner. First, with sworas sheathed 
 and erect in their hands, they dance in a 
 triple round : then with their drawn swords 
 held erect as before : afterwards, extending 
 them from hand to hand, they lay hold of 
 each other's hilts and points, and, while 
 they are wheeling more moderately round 
 and changing their order, throw them- 
 selves into the figure of a hexagon, whicl> 
 they call a rose: but, presently raising and 
 drawing back their swords, they undo 
 that figure, in order to form with them a 
 four-square rose, that they may rebound 
 over the head of each other. Lastly, they 
 dance rapidly backwards, and, vehemently 
 rattling the sides of their swords together, 
 conclude their sport. Pipes, or songs 
 (sometimes both), direct the measure, 
 which, at first, is slow, but, increasing 
 afterwards, becomes a very quick one to- 
 wards the conclusion.* Olaus Magnus 
 adds of this dance that " It is scarcely to 
 be understood, but by those that look on, 
 how gamely and decent it is, when at 
 one word, or one commanding, the whole 
 armed multitude is directed to fall to 
 fight : and clergymen may exercise them- 
 selves, and mingle themselves" amongst 
 others at this sport, because it is all 
 guided by most wise reason." f 
 
 Olaus Magnus calls this a kind of Gym- 
 nastic rite, in which the ignorant were suc- 
 cessively instructed by those who were 
 skilled in it: and thus it must have been 
 preserved and handed down to us. " I have 
 
 • By Anih. Roiley 1646. 4to. 
 t Sheridan's Persius, 1739, p. 67. 
 
 * Brand, 
 t See also Stiutt's Sports 8 vo. p. 214. 
 
5!) 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUART B. 
 
 60 
 
 been" says Mr. Brand 'f a frequent spec- 
 tator of this dance, \+hich is now, or was 
 very lately, performed with few or no al- 
 terations in Northumberland and the ad- 
 joining counties: one difference however, 
 is observable in our Northern sword 
 dancers, that, when the Swords are form- 
 ed into a figure, they lay them down 
 upon the ground and dance round them.'' 
 
 A yOEKSHIRE PLOUGH-DAY. 
 
 It is the custom in the North Riding of 
 Yorkshire, when a new tenant enters on a 
 farm, for his neighbours to give him what 
 is called a plough-day ; that is the use of 
 all their ploughs, and the labor of all 
 their ploughmen and plough horses, on a 
 fixed day, to prepare the ground for sow- 
 ing the grain. The following provision 
 for a plough-day was actually made for 
 such an occasion by a farmer's wife near 
 Guesborough in 1808. 
 
 Twelve bushels of wheat were ground, 
 and made into seventeen white loaves and 
 fifty-one dumplings. In the dumplings 
 were forty-two pounds of currants, and 
 fourteen pounds of raisins. Seven pounds 
 of sugar, with a proportionate quantity of 
 ■vinegar and melted butter, composed the 
 sauce for the dumplings. 
 
 One hundred and ninety-six pounds of 
 beef, with a farther quantity which the 
 farmer's wife had not received the account 
 of when she related the circumstance, suc- 
 ceeded the dumplings, and to this was ad- 
 ded two large hams, and fourteen pounds 
 of peas, made into puddings. 
 
 Three large Cheshire cheeses, and two 
 home-made ones weighing twenty eight 
 pounds each, concluded this mighty repast, 
 which was washed down with ninety-nine 
 gallons of ale, and two of rum. 
 
 At this ploughing there were about 
 eighty ploughs. * 
 
 H. N. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 7. — Day breaks . . . 5 sr 
 
 Sun rises ...80 
 
 — sets .... 4 
 
 Twilight ends ..63 
 
 Groundsel in flower, and more or less, 
 
 daily, throughout the year. 
 
 * This account, extracted from Miss Hut- 
 ton s " Oakward Hall" is obligingly communi- 
 cated by a known and greatly respected cor- 
 respondent who authemicatcs the fact. 
 
 On the 8th of January, 1668, Mr. 
 Evelyn says^ in his diary, "I saw deep 
 and prodigious gaming at the groom 
 porter's; vast heaps of gold squandered 
 away in a vainand profuse manner. This 
 I looked on as a horrid vice, and unsuit- 
 able in a Christian court.'' To what has 
 been stated previously, concerning this 
 play at the groom-porterfsj may be added, 
 that the groom-porter is still an officer of 
 the court, and that lady Mary Wortley 
 Montague, in one of her Town Eclogues 
 (Thursday) thus mentions the practice : — 
 
 At the groom-poi<ter's battcr'd bullies play. 
 Some dukes at Mary-bone bowl time away, 
 
 The Groom Porter. 
 
 Chamberlayne says, " The office of 
 groom-porter is to see the king's lodging 
 furnished with tables, chairs, stools, firing; 
 to provide cards, dice, &c.; to. decide 
 disputes arising at cards, dfde, bowlings, 
 &c. * 
 
 Henry Fitzalan, earl of Arundel,, lord 
 chamberlain to Henry VIII. from 1526 
 to 1530, compiled a book of directions for 
 the service of the king'sr chambers, and 
 the duties of the officers, in which is. set 
 forth " the room e and service belonging 
 to a groome-porter to do," to the foUoWing 
 effect: — First, a groom-pofter ought to 
 bring ladders for the hanging of the king's 
 chambers [with tapestry, &c.] To bring 
 in tables, forms, tressels, and stools, strand 
 for beds, rushes [for strewing the floors], 
 and all other such necessaries belonging 
 to the chambers, as the gentleman-usher 
 shall command : he is also to bring to the 
 chamber door, and have ready there, all 
 manner of fuel, as wood and coals ; and 
 to have always ready, torches, , sisfcs, and 
 other lights for the king's chambers'; he is 
 'urther to see that the keeper sweep and 
 clean the floors, walls, windows, anif roofs 
 of all dirt and cobwehs, before any of the 
 king's staff come within this said chamh'efs : 
 vvherefore he hath his fee.-)- 
 
 The groom-porter's is referred to as a 
 place of excessive plsy, in the statutes Of 
 Eltham, for the governmettt of the privy- 
 chamberofHenry VIII.,in the seventeenth 
 year of his reign, 1525, or 6. One of 
 these ordinances directs that the privy- 
 chamber shall be « kept honestly" in the 
 
 * Present state of G. Britain, 173.5. 
 t Autiq. Rep. iii. 20i; 
 
61 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 9. 
 
 63 
 
 king's absence, by such as are appointed 
 to be there, " without using itnmoderate 
 or continual play of dice, cards, or tables 
 therein : howbeit, the king can be con- 
 tented that for some pastime, in the 
 absence of his grace, they shall and may 
 use honest and moderate play ; " but 
 " that the said chamber be not used by 
 frequent and intemperate play, as the 
 groom-porter's house."* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Janvary 8. — Day breaks ... 5 56 
 
 Sun rises . . . 7 59 
 
 — sets .... 4 1 
 
 Twilight ends ..64 
 
 The yellow tremella found on old 
 
 palings. 
 
 gjanuars 9. 
 
 " OXFORD NIGHT CAPS." 
 
 In the evenings of this cold and dreary 
 season, " the dead of winter," a comfort- 
 able potation strengthens the heart of the 
 healthy and cheers the spirits of the feeble. 
 This is a book of good intent and purpose, 
 and therefore in its columns will be found 
 occasional directions for compounding 
 agreeable drinks,^a few extracted from 
 manuscript memoranda, and others from 
 publications which are not usually in the 
 collections of notable house-keepers, to 
 whom, however, it is presumed hints of 
 this sort will be acceptable. And, to 
 begin, resort is now made to " Oxford 
 Night Caps, — a collection of receipts for 
 making various beverages used in the 
 university."-}- From this university tract 
 we are acquainted with the method of 
 making 
 
 Egg-posset, alias Egg-jlip, 
 
 otherwise, in college language, " rum 
 booze." — Beat up well the yolks of eight 
 eggs, with refineil sugar pulverized, and 
 a nutmeg grated. Then extract the juice 
 from the rind of a lemon, by rubbing loaf 
 sugar upon it, and put the sugar, with a 
 piece of cinnamon and a bottle of wine, 
 into a saucepan ; place it on the fire, and, 
 when it boils, take it off; then add a 
 single glass of cold white wine; put the 
 liquor into a spouted jug, and pour it 
 gradually among the yolks of eggs, &c. 
 
 * Antiq. Rep. ii. 144. 
 t Published in Oxford, by Mr. Slatter, and 
 in London, by MessrR Longman, and Co. 
 42 pages, royal ISmo. 
 
 All must be kept well stirred with a 
 spoonj while the liquor is pouring in. 
 If it be not sweet enough, add loaf sugar ; 
 and, lastly, pour the mixture as swiftly as 
 possible from one vessel to another, until 
 it yields a fine froth. Half-a-pint of rum is 
 sometimes added, but it is then very intoxi- 
 cating, and consequently pernicious. Port 
 wine is sometimes used instead of white, 
 but is not generally so palatable. This 
 beverage should be drank about bed-time, 
 out of wine glasses, and while it is quite 
 hot. — Observe, that if the wine be poured 
 boiling hot among the eggs, the mixture 
 will curdle, and the posset be s'joiled. 
 
 'Rum Fustian 
 
 is a " night-cap " made precisely in the 
 same way as the preceding, with the 
 yolks of twelve eggs, a quart of strong 
 home-brewed beer, a bottle of white wine, 
 half-a-pint of gin, a grated nutmeg, the 
 juice from the peel of a lemon, a small 
 quantity of cinnamon, and sugar sufficient 
 to sweeten it. 
 
 Beer Flip. 
 
 This " night-cap" is prepared in the 
 same way, and with the same materials, 
 as " egg-flip," excepting that a quart of 
 strong home-brewed beer is substituted 
 . for the wine ; a glass of gin is sometimes 
 added, but it is better omitted. In the 
 university this beverage is frequently 
 given to servants at Christmas, and other 
 high festivals, during winter. 
 
 The idle fellow is an animal who thinks 
 nothing, acts nothing, and knows'nothing ; 
 who like Solomon's fool hates instruction, 
 and has no delight in understanding; 
 who eats only to live, and lives for 
 nothing but to die, whifh may happen 
 some time or other, he neither concerns 
 himself how nor when. He rises in the 
 morning with no other prospect or design 
 but of going to bed at night ; has neither 
 wish nor desire, hope nor fear, envy nor 
 love, passion nor affection, but to the 
 weightier affair of — doing nothin".* 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 9. — Day breaks . . 
 
 . 6 56 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 7 59 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 . 4 1 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 .6 4 
 
 The redbreast sings. 
 
 
 * De Foe, Wilson's Life, iii, 116. 
 
C8 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— JANUARY 10. 
 
 64 
 
 BOniN REDBREAST. 
 
 The beautifiil and brave little Robin, 
 whiffler of the choir of song-birds, ad- 
 vances first, and alone, to give the earliest 
 greeting to the new year, vfith notes clear 
 and brilliant as his eyes— bold and abrupt 
 as his resolute hoppings and determined 
 stand. He might be called the winter 
 nightingale, only that he never sings after 
 the bright twilight. 
 
 From a comfortable room, at this dead 
 season, it is delicious to look out upon a 
 Robin, as he perches on a near tree, 
 among " naked shoots, barren as lances," 
 jerking his sweet tones upon the stillness. 
 In a walk before the grey of evening 
 it is a still higher gratification to find him 
 " far from the haunts of care-vforn men," 
 upon a slender spray of some high bank, 
 seemingly unconscious of other living 
 things; pouring upon the dreariness of 
 the dell short liquid carols, with long 
 intervals between ; converting the frozen 
 waste and frowning steep into a solemn 
 place of devotion : — winning the child- 
 like passenger to contemplation and 
 thanksgiving — 
 
 " And now another day is gone 
 m sing my Maker's praise." 
 
 In infancy the Robin was our favorite 
 and familiar, and through life every re- 
 membrance of him is pleasurable. Some 
 of our recollections of him are historical. 
 We had in our hands, before we knew 
 how to use a book, the fabled " Death and 
 Funeral of Cock Robin," and learned it by 
 heart before we could read. Then fol- 
 lowed the important ballad story, "The 
 Children in the Wood ;" showing — how 
 their parents died, and left them to the 
 care of a cruel uncle, who hived two ruf- 
 fians to slay them in a wood — how the 
 ruffians quarrelled and fought " about the 
 children's life"— how "he that was of 
 mildest mood " slew the other, and then 
 led them further into the wood and left 
 them, saying, he would bring them food 
 when he came back — and how 
 
 These pretty babes, with hand in hand^ 
 
 Went wandering up and down 
 But never more they saw the man 
 
 ApproE^ching from the town ; 
 Their pretty lips with black-berries 
 
 Were all besmear'd and dy'd. 
 And, when ihey saw the darksome nighir, 
 
 They sat them down and cried. 
 
 Thus wandered these two pretty babes. 
 
 Till death did end their grief ; 
 Tn one another's arms they died. 
 
 As babes wanting relief : 
 No burial these pretty babes 
 
 Of any man receives. 
 Till Robin-red-breast painfully. 
 
 Did cover them \vith leaves. 
 
 No one that knew this ditty in child- 
 hood can forget the vernal burial of the 
 infants by " Robin-red-breast." 
 
 Whatever affection we may have for 
 the old common brown paper " garland " 
 of " The Children in the Wood," with a 
 rude cut of the ruffians in doublets and 
 trunk-hose, fighting in the wood, we must 
 infallibly be delighted with the appear- 
 ance of this story of infancy in thfe recent 
 edition. It is "more richly embellished 
 than any other " trivial fond record." 
 Its engravings are executed in a masterly 
 manner by Branston and Wright, and other 
 first-rate artists, from delicious drawings 
 by Mr. Harvey. It is the most charming:, 
 and must inevitably be the most popular 
 little publication which an indulgent press 
 has yielded to the constant coaxing of 
 lovers of elegant decoration. There is a 
 vignette which might be coveted for a 
 place in this column : — a lone Robin, 
 upon the lowest branch of a leafless oak, 
 in a snowy solitude, keeping company 
 with silence. 
 
 lianuarp lO' 
 
 1645. At the age of seventy-one, Wil- 
 liam Laud," archbishop of Canterbiify,' 
 was beheaded on Tower-hill, four years 
 before Charles I. met the same fate at 
 Whitehall. The circumstances which led 
 to the archbishop's death are related by 
 the writers of our national history, upon 
 the authority of impartial annalists, and 
 collectors of facts relating to the trouble- 
 some times in which he lived and dieJ, 
 Hume sums up his character impartially, 
 and adds, " It is to be regretted that a 
 man of such spirit, who conducted his 
 enterprises with so much warmth and 
 industry, had not entertained more en- 
 larged views, and embraced principles 
 more favorable to the general happiness 
 of society." He acquired, says Hume, 
 so great an ascendant over Charles as tn 
 lead him, by the facility of his temper; 
 into a conduct which proved fatal to that 
 prince and to his kingdom. 
 
G5 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 10. 
 
 66 
 
 A FOOL-DWARF, MOCKING. 
 
 This is another dwarf from Wierix's 
 Bible, 1594. The figure occurs in a de- 
 sign illustrating a passage in the parable 
 of the Prodigal Son, who " took- his joiir- 
 ney into a fer country, and there wasted 
 his substance with riotous living."* The 
 original engraving, by C.de Malery, repre- 
 seiits the Prodigal running away from a 
 woman who beats him down the steps of a 
 tavern with her shoes, and is assisted in the 
 assault by two men. A dog upon the steps 
 barks at the flying spendthrift, and the 
 dwarfish fool drops nis bauble to mock 
 him, which he effects by placing the thumb 
 of his left hand at the end of his nose, the 
 tip of the little finger of the same hand 
 on the top of his right thumb, and spread- 
 ing out the fingers of both hands, forfex- 
 like, to their utmost extent. Here, then, 
 we see a print, executed two centuries and 
 a half ago, exhibiting a ludicrous practice 
 of that period, which suddenly arose as a 
 novelty within the last twenty years among 
 the boys of the metropolis. 
 
 In this respect alone the print is cu- 
 rious; but it is further remarkable as 
 exemplifying the fact, that formerly fools 
 were kept at taverns .to amuse the cus- 
 tomers, before whom they exhibited with 
 a Jews-harp and joint-stpol, and some- 
 times sang in the Italian manner. Re- 
 specting tavern-fools, and every other 
 class of fools, Mr. Douce affords the 
 
 Vol. I. -3 
 
 • Luke XV. 13, 
 
 largest information in his " Illustration of 
 Shakspeare, and of ancient manners, 
 1807, 2 vols. 8to; which is becoming a 
 work of rarity, and is to a literary antiqua-- 
 rian, an indispensable acquisition. 
 
 LAUD AND PEYNHE. 
 
 There was a memorable prosecution in 
 the star chamber, in which Laud bore a 
 part, a^inst a book called " Histriomas- 
 tix, the Player's Scourge, or Actor's Tra- 
 gedie," written by William Prynne, pro- 
 fessedly against the stage plays, interludes, 
 music, dancing, hunting, Christmas- 
 keeping, May-poles, festivals, and bonfires, 
 but in which he blamed the hierarchy, 
 and reviled the ceremonies and supersti- 
 tious innovations introduced by Laud 
 into the public worship. The church 
 music he affirmed not to be the noise of 
 men, but a bleating of brute beasts ; 
 " choristers bellow the tenor, as it were 
 oxen ; bark a counterpart, as it were a 
 kennel of dogs ; roar out a treble, as it 
 were a sort of bulls; and grunt out a 
 basB; as it were a number of hogs :" and 
 yet this book appeared in the age of 
 licensing, with the licenser's imprimatur. 
 How this happened is not very clear. It 
 appears, from the proceedings in the star 
 chamber, that the book was seven years 
 in writing, and almost four in passing 
 through the press. It is a closely printed.^ 
 quarto volume, of nearly 11 00 pages; 
 though, originally, it consisted of only a 
 
 D 
 
67 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 10. 
 
 68 
 
 quire of paper, which Prynne took to 
 Dr. Good?, a licenser, who deposed on 
 the trial that he refused to sanction it. 
 It seems that, about a year afterwards, 
 when it had probably increased in size, 
 Prynne applied to another licenser, Dr. 
 Harris, who also refused the allowance 
 sought, and deposed that " this man did 
 deliver this book when it was young and 
 tender, and would have had it then 
 printed ; but it was since grown seven 
 times bigger, and seven times worse." 
 Disappointed by two licensers, but not 
 despairing, Prynne resorted to a third 
 licenser, one Buckner, chaplain to arch- 
 bishop Abbot, Laud's predecessor in the 
 see of Canterbury. Buckner was either 
 tampered with, or so confused by the multi- 
 fariousness of the contents, and the tedious 
 progress in the printing of the enormous 
 volume, that his vigilance slackened, and 
 he deposed that he only licensed part of 
 it. Be that as it may, the work came out 
 wiih the license of the archbishop's chap- 
 lair. prefixed, and involved the author, and 
 all that were concerned in it, in a fearful 
 prosecution in the court of the star cham- 
 ber. Prynne was a barrister: he was 
 condemned to be disbarred, to be pilloried 
 
 , in Westminster and Cheapside, to have 
 an ear cut oft at each place, to pay a fine 
 of £5000 to the king, and to be impri- 
 soned for life. 
 
 The sentence was carried into eflect, 
 but in vain. Prynne again libelled the 
 prelacy; was again tried, and again sen- 
 tenced ; and the judge, perceiving that 
 fragments of his ears still remained, 
 ordered them to be unmercifully cut off, 
 and further condemned him to be burnt 
 in the cheek, enormously fined, and impri- 
 soned in a distant solitude. At the place 
 of punishment, in palace-yard, Westmin- 
 ster, Prynne steadily ascended the scafibld, 
 and calmly invited the executioner to do 
 his office, saying, " Come friend ; come, 
 bum me ! cut me ! I fear not ! I have 
 learned to fear the fire of hell, and not 
 what man can do unto me. Comt ; scar 
 me ! scar me ! " The executioner had 
 been urged not to spare his victim, and 
 he proceeded to extraordinary severity, 
 by cruelly heating his branding iron twice, 
 and cutting the remainder of one Of 
 Prynne's ears so close as to take away a 
 piece of the cheek ; while his victim 
 stirred not under the torture, bnt, when 
 it was finished, smiled, and exclaimed, 
 
 ' " The rhore I am beaten down, the more 
 I am lifted up." At the conclusion of 
 
 this punishment, Prynne was taken to the 
 tower, by water, and, on his passage in 
 the boat, composed the following Latin 
 verses on the two letters S. L., which had 
 been branded on his cheek, to signify 
 Schismatical Libeller, but which he chose 
 to translate " Stigmata Laudes," the stig- 
 mas of his enemy, archbishop Land — 
 
 " Stigmata maxillis rcferens insignia Lauiis 
 Exultans remeo, victima grata Deo." 
 
 A signal triumph awaited Prynne, and a 
 reverse as signal befel Laud. In less than 
 three weeks after the long parliament had 
 commenced its sitting,. Prynne entered 
 Londbn from his imprisonment at Mount 
 Orgueil, amidst the acclamations of the 
 people; his sentence was reversed, and 
 in another month Laud was committed to 
 the Tower, by the parliament, where he 
 kept a diary, in which a remarkable 
 searching of his person by Prynne, as a 
 parliamentary commissioner, is recorded 
 by the archbishop in these words : — 
 
 " Mr. Prynne came into the Tower as 
 soon as the gates were open — commanded 
 the warder to open my door — he came 
 into my chamber, and found me in bed — 
 Mr. Prynne, seeing me safe in bed, falls 
 first to my pockets, to rifle them — it was 
 expressed in the warrant that he should 
 search my pockets — I arose, got my gown 
 upon my shoulders, and he held me in the 
 search till past nine in the morning. He 
 took from me twenty-one bundles of 
 papers which I had prepared for my 
 defence, &c., a little book or diary, con 
 taining all the occurrences of my life, and 
 my book of private devotions; both 
 written with my own hand. Nor cnuld 
 I get him to leave this last ; he must 
 needs see what passed between God and 
 me. The last place he rifled was a trunk 
 whiph stood by my bed-side; in that he 
 found nothing but about forty pounds in 
 money, for my necessary expenses, which 
 he meddled not with, and a bundle of 
 some gloves. This bundle he was so 
 careful to open, as that he caused each 
 glove to be looked into : upon this, I 
 tendered him one pair of the gloves, 
 which he refusing, 1 told him he might 
 take them, and fear no bribe ; for he had 
 already done me all the mischief he 
 could, and I asked no favor of him ; so 
 he thanked me, took the gloves, and 
 bound up my papers and went his way." 
 
 La\id was brought ■to the block, and 
 Prynne in his writings, and in parlia- 
 ment, consistently resisted oppre.ssion from 
 
b9 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 10. 
 
 70 
 
 whatever quarter it proceeded. A little 
 time before the execution of Charles I. he 
 defended in the house of commons the 
 king's concessions to parliament as suffi- 
 cient grounds for peace. His speech was 
 a complete narrative of all the transaotiqns 
 between the king, the houses, and the 
 army, from the beginning of the parlia- 
 ment : its delivery kept the house so long 
 together that the debate^ lasted from Mon- 
 day morning till Tuesday morning. He 
 was representative for Bath, and had th^ 
 honor to be one of the excluded members. 
 On the 2lst of February, 1660, he was al- 
 lowed to resume his seat. While makiijg 
 his way through the hall, wearing an old 
 basket-hilt sword, he was received with 
 shouts. The house passed an ordinance 
 on the Isl of March fqr calling a new 
 Parliament, and the next day, when it was 
 discussed in whose name the new writs 
 should run, Prynne openly answered "in 
 king Charles's." This from any other 
 man had been hazardous even at that time ; 
 but he was neither a temporizer of his 
 opinions, nor a disguiser of his wishes. 
 
 In writing upon a subject Prynne never 
 quitted it till he had cited every author he 
 could produce to favor his views, and 
 his great learning and laborious researches 
 were amazing. His " Histriomastix"refers 
 to more than a thousand different authors, , 
 and he quotes a hundred writers to fortify 
 his treatise on the " Unjoveliness of Love 
 Locks." In the first-mentioned work he 
 marshalled them, as he s^ys, into " squad- 
 rons of authorities-" Having gone through 
 " three squadrons," he commences a fresh 
 chapter thus: " Th? fourth squadron of 
 authorities is the venerable troop of 70 
 several renowned ancient lathers;" and 
 he throws in more than he promises, quot- 
 ing the volume and page of each. Lord Cot- 
 tington, one of his judges in the Star 
 Chamber, astounded by the army of au- 
 thorities in that mighty volume, affirmed 
 that Prynne did not write the book alone 
 — " he either assisted the devil, or was as- 
 sisted by the devil." Mr. Secretary Cooke 
 judiciously said " By this vast book of 
 Mr. Prynne's, it appeareth that he hath 
 read more than he hath studied, and stu- 
 died more thfin he hath considered." Mil- 
 ton speaks of Prynne as havjng had " his 
 wits lying ever beside him in the margin, 
 to be ever beside his wits jn the text." 
 
 Readers of Prynne's works will incline 
 to the judgmeut of Milton, whose Satan 
 " floating many a rood" was not more 
 awful than the embattled host of authors 
 
 with which Prynne chokes the margins of 
 his multitudinous tracts. 
 
 Prynne's works amount to nearly two 
 hundred in number, and form forty 
 enormous, closely printed, volumes in 
 quarto and folio. It is probable that there 
 is not so complete a set in existence as 
 that which he gave to Lincoln's Inn library. 
 
 Sir William Blackstone dilligently col- 
 lected Prynne's pieces, but was unable to 
 complete the series. While Prynne stood 
 in the pillory, enduring the loss of hjs 
 ears at Westminster and Cheapside, "his 
 volumes were burnt under liis nose, which 
 almost s\ijffocated him." Yet who can 
 doubt th^t the fumigation fiiora such a 
 burning was a reviving savor to Prynne's 
 spirits und^r the suffering, and a stimulant 
 to further aud similar purposes and en- 
 durance 1. 
 
 Prynne was a nian of great knowledge 
 and little wisdom : he had vast erudition 
 without the tact of good sense. He stood 
 insulated from all parties, ridiculed by his 
 friends and execrated by his enemies. He 
 was facetiously called " William Uie Con- 
 queror," and this he merited, by his inflex- 
 ible and invincible nature. His activity in 
 public life, and the independence of his 
 character, were unvarying. He had. en- 
 dured prosecutions uiider every power at 
 the head of affairs, and suffered ten im- 
 prisonments. In admiration of his earn • 
 est honesty, his copious learning, and thi' 
 public persecutions so unmercifully inflict 
 ed upon him, Charles II. dignified him with 
 the title of " the Cato p/ .tbe Age." At 
 the restoration it became difficult to.dis- 
 pose of " busie Mr. Prin," as Whitelocke 
 called him. The court wished to devise 
 something for him " purposely to employ 
 his head from scriboling against the state 
 and the bishops ;" and, to weary out his 
 restless vigor, they put him to clear the 
 Augean stable of our national antiquities. 
 
 The veteran desired to be one of the 
 barons of the Exchequer, for which he 
 was more than qualified ; but he was made 
 keeper of the Records in the Tower, where 
 " he rioted in leafy folios and proved him- 
 self to be one of the greatest paper-worms 
 which ever crept into old . books and 
 musty records." 
 
 In this fortress of the Tower Prypne 
 achieved an herculean labor, well known 
 to the historical antiquary by the name of 
 " Prynne's Records," in three folio vol- 
 umes. The second volume of this sur- 
 
71 
 
 THE YEAK BOOK.— JANUARY 11. 
 
 72 
 
 prising monument of his great learning 
 and indefatigable research was printed in 
 1665: the first appeared, afterwards, in 
 1666, and the third in 1670. Most of the 
 copies of the first two volumes of this great 
 and invaluable work were burnt by the 
 fire of London in 1666 : it is said that of 
 the first volume only twenty-three copies 
 were saved. A set of the 3 volumes com- 
 plete is exceedingly rare, and worth nine- 
 ty or a hundred guineas. 
 
 A catalogue of Prynne's works, and par- 
 ticulars concerning himself, are in 
 Wood's "Athense Oxoniensis." An ac- 
 count of him is in the late Mr. Hargrave's 
 preface to his edition of Hale on Parlia- 
 ments. Prynne's ardor in writing was 
 intense. Wood says " his custom was to 
 put on a long quilted cap, which came an 
 inch over his eyes, serving as an umbrella 
 to defend them from too much light ; and 
 seldom eating a dinner, he would every 
 three hours or more be munching a roll of 
 bread, and refresh his exhausted spirits 
 with ale." He was born in 1606 and died 
 in 1669; and, supposing that he com- 
 menced authorship in arriving at man's es- 
 tate, he is computed to have written a sheet 
 a day* 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 10.— Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 55 
 
 Sun rfses . . 
 
 . 7 57 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 4 3 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 5 
 
 Linnets congregate. 
 
 
 Sanuavp li. 
 
 1753 Sir Hans Sloane, a celebrated 
 physician and botanist, died at the age of 
 93. He was a native of Killileagh in the 
 county of Down, Ireland. After he had 
 been elected a fellow of the Royal Society, 
 and admitted a member of the College of 
 physicians, he embarked in 1687 for 
 Jamacia, as physician to the duke of Al- 
 bemarle, and returned with eight hundred 
 unknown plants, 3'A a proportional num- 
 ber of new specimens of the animal king- 
 dom. These he collected in so short a 
 time that his French eulogist says he seem- 
 ed to have converted niinutes into hours. 
 He was the first learned man whom science 
 had tempted from England to that dis- 
 tant quarter of the globe. On returning 
 
 * HuD,e. Calamities of Authors. Granger. 
 Seward. Pepys. 
 
 in May 1689, and, settling in London, he 
 became eminent in his profession, and in 
 1 694 was elected physician to Christ's Hos- 
 pital, which office he filled till, compelled 
 by infirmity, he resigned it in 1730. In 
 1693 he was elected secretary to the Royal 
 Society, and revived the publication of 
 the " Philosophical Transactions," which 
 had been discontinued from 1687. He 
 was succeeded in this office by Dr. Halley 
 in 1712, about which time he actively 
 promoted a " Dispensary" for the poor, 
 which was at length established, and ridi- 
 culed by Dr. Garth in a once celebrated 
 satire bearing that title. In 1702 Sloane 
 was incorporated doctor of physic at Ox- 
 ford, and became an associated member of 
 several Academies on the continent. In 
 1708, during a war with France, he was 
 elected member of the Royal Academy of 
 Sciences at Paris, as a compliment of high 
 distinction to his eminent science. Queen 
 Anne frequently consulted him; he at- 
 tended her in her last illness,' and on the 
 accession of George I. he was created 
 baronet, which was the first hereditary 
 honor conferred in England on a physi- 
 cian. He also received the appointmeijit 
 of physician general to theanny,which he 
 held till 1727, when he was made physi- 
 cian to George II., and, being", honored with 
 Ihe confidence' of Queen Caroline, pre- 
 scribed for the royal family till his death. 
 In 1719 he was elected president of the 
 Royal College of Physicians, and on the 
 death of Sir Isaac Newton, in 1727, was 
 chosen president of the Royal Society.' 
 While presiding over these, the two most 
 illustrious scientific bodies of the kingdom, 
 he learnedly and liberally promoted the 
 objects of each. 
 
 Sir Hans Sloane had begun early in life 
 to form a museum, and he spared no ex- 
 pence in continually storing it with the 
 rarest and most remarkable specimens in 
 botany and other departments of natural 
 history, and with useful and curious works 
 of art and science. These acquirements, 
 with an excellent library, and the collec- 
 tions he made during his short voyage to 
 to the West Indies, enabled him to pub- 
 lish his Natural History of Madeira, Bar- 
 badoes, and other West India Islands, witli 
 an account of his voyage, in two folio 
 volumes, which was productive of greaf 
 benefit to science, and excited emulation 
 to similar pursuits both in England and 
 Sibroad. From a catalogue in this work, 
 it appears that his library and museum, in 
 1725, contained more than 26,200 sub- 
 
73 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 11. 
 
 74 
 
 jects of natural history, exclusive of 200 
 volumes of preserved plaats ; the year 
 before his death, they amounted to up- 
 wards of 36,600. 
 
 In May, 1741, Sir Hans Sloane resign- 
 ed all his public offices and employments 
 and retired to his mansion at Chelsea, 
 which manor he had bought in 1712. 
 Thither he removed his museum, and 
 there he received, as he had in London, 
 the visits of the royal family and persons 
 of rank, learned foreigners, and distinguish- 
 ed literary and scientific men ; nor did he 
 refuse admittance or advice to either rich 
 or poor, who went to consult him respect- 
 ing their health. At ninety he rapidly de- 
 cayed, and eitpired at the age of ninety -two, 
 after an illness of only three days. 
 
 Sir Hans Sloane's manners were courte- 
 ous, his disposition was kind, his bene- 
 volence to the poor and distressed 
 abundant : He was a governor of almost 
 every hospital in London; to each of them 
 he gave £100 in his lifetime and bequeath- 
 ed more considerable sums by will. He 
 zealously promoted the colonization of 
 Georgia in 1732, and in 1739 formed the 
 plan of bringing up the children in the 
 FoundUng Hospital. In 1721 be gave 
 freehold ground of nearly four acres at 
 Chelsea, on which the botanical garden 
 stood, to the company of Apothecaries. 
 
 With a natural anxiety that his museum 
 might not be dispersed. Sir Hans Sloane 
 bequeathed it to the public on condition 
 that £20,000 should be paid by parlia- 
 ment to his family, and in 1753 an act 
 was passed for the purchase of his collec- 
 tions and of the Harleian collection of 
 MSS., and for procuring a general de- 
 pository for their reception with the Cot- 
 tonian collection, and other public proper- 
 ty of a similar kind. The duke of 
 Montague's mansion in Bloomsbury was 
 bought for the purpose, and in 1759 these 
 collections, having been brought together 
 and arranged, were opened to the public 
 under certain regulations as the British 
 Museum, which since then has been in- 
 creased by parliamentary grants for pur- 
 chases, and a multitude of donations and 
 bequesU of a like kind. Within a few 
 years restrictions that were vexatious have 
 been relaxed, additions made to the build- 
 ings, and fiirther improvements and al- 
 terations are now in progress. 
 
 The following pleasantry on Sir Hans 
 Sloane's ardor in collecting is in a print- 
 ed trad entitled 
 
 " An epistolary letter from T 
 
 H to Sir H S , who saved his 
 
 life, and desired him to send over all .the 
 curiosities he could find in his Travels."* 
 
 An Epistolary Letter, SfC. 
 
 Since you, dear doctor, saved my life. 
 To bless by turns and plague my wife. 
 In conscience I'm obliged to do 
 Whatever is enjoined by you. 
 According then to your command. 
 That I should search the western land. 
 For curious things of every kind. 
 And send you all that I could find ; 
 I've ravaged air, eaitb, seas, and caverns. 
 Men, women, children, towns, and taverns. 
 And greater rarities can show 
 Than Gresham's children ever knew ; 
 Which carrier Dick shall bring you down 
 Next time his waggon comes to town. 
 
 I've got three drops of the same shower 
 Which Jove in Danae's lap did pour, 
 From Carthage brought : the sword I'll send 
 Which brought queen Dido to her end. 
 The stone whereby Goliah died. 
 Which cures the headach when applied. 
 A whetstone, worn exceeding small, 
 Time used to whet nis scythe withall 
 St Dunstan's tongs, which story shows 
 Did pinch the Devil by the nose 
 The very shaft, as all may see. 
 Which Cupid shot at Anthony. 
 And what above the rest I prize 
 A glance from Cleopatra's eyes. 
 I've got a ray of Phcebus' shine. 
 Found in the bottom of a mine, 
 A lawyer's conscience, large, and fair. 
 Fit for a judge himself to wear. 
 In a thumb vial you shall see. 
 Close cork'd, some drops of honesty j 
 Which after searching kingdoms round 
 At last were in a cottage found. 
 An antidote, if such there be. 
 Against the charm of flattexy. 
 I ha'nt collected any Care, ! 
 
 Of that there's plenty every where ; 
 But, after wond'rous labor spent, 
 I've got one grain of rich Content. 
 
 It is my wish, it is my glory. 
 To furnish your Micknackatory. 
 I only wish, whene'er you show'em. 
 You'll tel' your friends towhom you owe 'em. 
 Which may your other patients teach 
 To do as has done Yours, 
 
 T. H. 
 
 fa. m. 
 
 Januari/ il. — Daybreaks . . 5 54 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 56 
 
 — sets ... 4 4 
 
 Twilight ends. . 6 6 
 
 The farmer may now look for lambs. 
 
 * London, 1729, folio. 
 
rs 
 
 76 
 
 January 12- 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 13 
 
 Latin translation, and another in English 
 
 COLD. 
 
 The greatest cold in our climate is to- 
 wards the middle of Januai:y ; and, from 
 observations made by Mr. Howard with 
 a thermometer near London, during twenty 
 successive years, from 1797 to 1816, the 
 12th of January seems to be the coldest 
 day of the year. The mean tem,perature 
 of the day for that period was 34° 45'. 
 
 Ladies, if they please, may exercise 
 and warm themselves in cold weather. 
 In the reign of Henry III. (from 1216 
 to 1272) lady Joan Berkeley "in her elder 
 years used to saw billets and sticks in her 
 chamber for a part of physick, for which 
 purpose she bought certain fine hand- 
 saws." Taylor, "the water p'oet, iii the 
 reign of Charles I., says " Now all their 
 exercise is privately to saw billets. ' 
 
 The saw was in use very early. The 
 Greeks ascribed the invention of it to 
 Daedalus, or his pupil Talus, but it is 
 more ancient, for it is figured upon the 
 obelisks of Egypt.* It is a tradition that 
 the prophet Isaiah suffered martyrdom 
 by the sa*. The ancient book entitled 
 " The Ascension of Isaiah the Prophet " 
 accords Vvilh this tradition. It says, 
 " Then they seized and sawed Isaiah the 
 son of Amos with a wooden saw. And 
 Manasseh, Melakira, the false prophets, 
 the princes, and the people, all stood 
 looking on. But he said to the prophets 
 who were with him beforel he was sawn, 
 go ye to the country of Tyre and Sidon ; 
 for the Lord has mixed the cup for me 
 alone. Neither while they were sawing 
 him did he cry out nor weep ; but he 
 continued addi-essing himself to the Holy 
 Spirit, until lie was sawn asunder." 
 
 The book called the " Aiscension of 
 Isaiah " had been known to exist in for- 
 mer ages, but had disappeared after the 
 fifth century, until Dr. Richard Laurence, 
 Regius professor of Hebrew at Oxford, 
 and since archbishop of Cashel, accident- 
 ally met with an iEthiopio MS. at the 
 sh6p of J. Smith, a bookseller in White- 
 horse Yard, Drury Lane, which proved 
 to be this apocryphal book. Dr. Lau- 
 rence printed the Ethiopic text with a 
 
 Fosbroke's British Monachisrn, 324. 
 
 and an Appendix of general remarks.* 
 This discovery in our own times, and in 
 a small bookseller's shop, of a work 
 which had been lost to the learned up- 
 wards of a thousand years, is so remarfc- 
 able, that mention of it in this place may 
 perhaps be excused. 
 
 January 12.— Day breaks . 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 — &et3 . . 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 The blackbird sings. 
 
 53 
 
 55 
 
 5 
 
 7 
 
 g^antiars 13. 
 
 MARRYING DAY. 
 
 Pond, an Almanac for 1678.^amplified 
 with "many good things both for pleasure 
 and profit " — inserts the following notice as 
 belonging to these pleasurable and profit- 
 able things; — 
 
 " Tirnes pnMbiting Marriiige. 
 
 " Marriage comes in on the 13th day of 
 January, and at Septnagesima Sunday it 
 is out again until Low Sunday ; at which 
 lime it comes in again, and goes not out 
 until Rogation Sunday ; thence it is for- 
 bidden unlil Trinity Sunday, from whence 
 it is unforbidden till Advent Sunday; but 
 then it goes out and comes not in again 
 till the 13th day of January next follow- 
 ing." 
 
 Wedding Rings, and the Ring Finger. 
 
 The wedding ring is worn on the fourth 
 finger of the left hand, because it was iin- 
 ciently believed that a small artery ran 
 from this finger to the heart. Wheatley, 
 on the authority of old missals, calls it a 
 vein. 'It is," he says, "because from 
 thence there proceeds a particular vein 
 to the heart. This indeed," he adds, " is 
 now contradicted by experience : but 
 several eminent authors, as well gentiles 
 as Christians, as well physicians as di- 
 vines, were formerly of this opinion, and 
 therefore they thought this finger the 
 properest to bear this pledge of love, 
 that from thence it might be conveyed as 
 it were to tlie heart. 
 
 * Ascensio Tsaix vatis, opusculum pseud 
 ep^raphum, &c., et cum versione Latina Ang- 
 lican^que publici juris factum a Ricardo Lau- 
 rence, LL. D., &c., Oxon. 1819,8vo 
 
77 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 13. 
 
 78 
 
 Levinus ^emniusj speaking of the ring- 
 finger, says, that " a small branch of the 
 artery and not of the nerves, as Gellius 
 thought, is stretched forth from the heart 
 unto this finger, the motion^ whereof you 
 may perceive evidently in all that afiects 
 the heart in women, by the touch of your 
 fore finger. I used to raise such as are 
 fallen in a swoon by pinching this joint, 
 and by rubbing the ring of gold with a 
 little saffron; for, by Uiis^ a restoring 
 force that is in it passeth to the heart, and 
 refresheth the fountain of life, unto which 
 this finger is joined. Wherefore antiquity 
 thought fit to compass it about with 
 gold." 
 
 " As yoav Wedding Ring wears. 
 Your cares will wear away." 
 
 Formerly rings were given away at 
 weddings. Anthony Wood relates of Ed- 
 ward Kelly, a " famous philosopher " in 
 Queen Elizabeth's days, that "Kelley, 
 who was openly profuse beyond the 
 modest limits of a sober philosopher, did 
 give away in gold-wire-rings (or rings 
 twisted with three gold-wires), at the 
 marriage of one of his maid-servants, to 
 the value of £4000." 
 
 According also to the same author, this 
 finger was called " Medicus ;" for, on ac- 
 count of the virtue it was presumed to 
 derive from the heart, "the old physicians 
 would mingle their medicaments and po- 
 tions with this ' finger, because no venom 
 can stick upon the very outmost part of 
 it, but it will offend a man, and commu- 
 nicate itself to his heart." 
 
 To a question, " Why is it that the per- 
 son to be married is enjoined to put, a 
 rjng upon the fourth finger of his spouse's 
 left hand?" it is answered, "there i? no- 
 thing more in this than that the custom 
 was handed down to the presept age from 
 the practice of our ancestors, who 'bund 
 the left hand more convenient for such or- 
 naments than the right, bpe^vse it is less 
 employed. For the same reason they 
 chose the fourth finger, which is not only 
 loss used than either of the rest, but js 
 more capable of preserving a ring from 
 bruises, Jj^ving this one peculiar quality, 
 that it canpQt be extended but in com- 
 psiny with some other finger, while the 
 rest may be singly stretched to their full 
 Unglb and straightngss." 
 
 Swpe married women are so super- 
 stitiously rigid, in their notions concerning 
 their wedding ring, that neither when they 
 wash their hands, nor at ^ny other time, 
 jvill they take it off' their finger ; extend- 
 ing, it should seem, the expression of 
 f till death us do part," eveu to this 
 golden circlet, the token and pledge of 
 matrimony. 
 
 There is an old proverb on wedding 
 rings, which ha? no doubt been many a 
 time quoted for the purpose of encourag- 
 ing and hastening the consent of a difii- 
 dent or timorous mistress : — 
 
 Davison, in his " Poetical Rhapsody," 
 has the foUovring beautiful 
 
 SONNET 
 
 Upon sending his Mistress a Gold-Ring 
 with this poesie s — 
 
 " PUKE and ENDLESS." 
 
 If you would know the love which I you bear. 
 
 Compare it to the ring which your fair hand 
 
 Shall make more precious, when you shall it 
 
 wear : 
 
 So my Love's nature you shall understand. 
 
 Is it of metal pure ? so you shall prove 
 
 My Love, which ne'er disloyal thought did 
 sta^Q. 
 Hath it no end 1 so endless is my Love, ' 
 Cnle^s you it destroy with your disdain. 
 Doth it the purer grow the more 'tis tried 1 
 
 So idoth my love ; yet herein they dissent. 
 That whereas gold the more 'tis purified 
 
 By growing less, doth show some part is 
 spent ; 
 My love doth grow more pure hy your more 
 trying. 
 And yet increaseth in the purifying.* 
 
 ° Petrarch, speakiqg of beautiful pictures, 
 says " If these things that are counterfeited! 
 and shadowed with fading colors, do so 
 much delight tbeei cast thine eyes up to 
 bin) jthat hath tnade the originals ; who 
 ^dprned man with senses, bis mind with 
 understaodingj.tbe heaveawith stars, and 
 the earth with flowers ; and so compare 
 real with visionary beauties." 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 13. — Day bceaks . . 
 
 5 52 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 7 54 
 
 — sets . . • 
 
 4 6 
 
 Twilight ends ; 
 
 6 8 
 
 The wall speedwell flowers. 
 
 
 The throstle sings. 
 
 
 • Brand. 
 
79 
 
 Tllli YliAll BOOK.— JANUARY 13. 
 
 eo 
 
 THE COLLEGE, MANCHESTER. 
 
 Manchester, the seat of cotton mills, 
 manufactories, and mechanical and musi- 
 cal science, is a place of great antiquity. 
 It is surrounded by old halls of curious 
 structure, and contains within itself many 
 vestiges that excite peculiar admiration in 
 lovers of literature and ancient remains. 
 By the munificience of one of its mer- 
 chants, Humphrey Chetham, there exists 
 a Public Library in the full meaning of 
 the term. With merely an incidental 
 mention of the noble collegiate or parish 
 church, and wholly passing by other edi- 
 fices and institutions, some notices are 
 subjoined of Humphrey Chetham's endow- 
 ments and of the edifice in which his 
 liberality is still fostered and dispensed. 
 
 Thomas West, lord de la Warre, the 
 last male heir of'that family, who was "first 
 rector of Manchester and then succeeded 
 to the peerage, procured a license in the 
 ninth year of Henry V., 1422, for making 
 theparish church .of Manchester collegiate. 
 The college .consisted of a warden and 
 eight fellows, of> whom two were parish 
 priests, two canons, and four deaenns, 
 with two clerks and six choristers. The 
 building of the house cost at that time 
 £5000. The value of twelve lordships was 
 bestowed by the founder on the college 
 and to other pious uses. 
 
 About the time of the foundation of the 
 
 college was erected the present fabric of 
 Christ Church', which, being the pa- 
 rish church, is now usually called the Old 
 Church, to distinguish it from other 
 churches in the town. It is a fine Gothic 
 structure, ornamented with sculpture on 
 the outside, and contains several Chapels 
 belonging to considerable families in the 
 neighbourhood. It is enriched with 
 curious taberriacle work over the stalls, 
 and very grotesque carvings under the 
 foldings of the seats. 
 
 The college was dissolved by act of 
 Parliament in the first year of Edward 
 VI., and the land and revenues taken by 
 the king, and by him demised to Edward 
 earl of Derby. Queen Mary afterwards 
 refounded the college, and restored almost 
 all the lands. The house called the col- 
 lege remained in the Derby family until 
 the civil wars, when, with the rest of the 
 property of James earl of Derby, it was 
 sequestrated by the parliament. At that 
 time it was greatly dilapidated ; some 
 parts were used as private dwellings, others 
 were employed as magazines for powder 
 and arms, and the greater part was devoted 
 to the purposes of a prison. After the 
 restoration it returned once more to the 
 Derby family, and was ultimately destined 
 to its present use. 
 
 Humphrey Chetham, by his will dated 
 
at 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 13. 
 
 82 
 
 16 December, 1651, made prorision fov 
 the foundation and endowment of an 
 hospital and library in Manchester. The 
 hospital was to maintain and educate 
 forty poor boys to the age of fourteen, 
 when they were to be bound apprentice 
 or otherwise provided for. He directed 
 that they shoiild be elected out of various 
 townships named in the will, and recom- 
 mended the trustees to purchase the old 
 college for a place of residence foi* the 
 children, and for the use of the library. 
 For commencing the library he bequeath- 
 ed £1000 to be expended in books, and 
 gave the residue of his personal estate 
 to augment the collection. The college 
 was accordingly purchased of the celebrat- 
 ed Charlotte de Tremouille countess of 
 Derby, the gallant defender of Lathom 
 house, and in 1665 the trustees were in- 
 corporated by charter. In a short time 
 the trustees were enabled to extend the be- 
 neficence of the founder to sixty boys, 
 and, since 1780, eighty boys have been 
 supported and educated in this establish- 
 ment. They are clothed in the same 
 fashion as at the first foundation, in long 
 blue vests with a petticoat of yellow, blue 
 worsted stockings, with a blue cap or bon- 
 net, and linen bands at the neck. The 
 make of this dress is similar to that of the 
 children in Christ's hospital, London. 
 
 Humphrey Chetham resided at Clayton 
 Hall near Manchester, and Turlon Tower, 
 near Bolton, in Lancashire. He was born 
 on the 10th of July, 1580, realised a large 
 property in trade, and died unmarried on 
 the 12th of October 1653, in the seventy- 
 fourth year of his age. This, and what is 
 related by Dr. Fuller, who places him 
 among his "Worthies," is all, perhaps, 
 that is known of this beneficent man. 
 
 Fuller says " Humphrey Chetham, 
 third son of Henry Chetham, of Cromp- 
 sail, gentleman, is thought (on just ground) 
 to descend from Sir Geffery Chetham, cf 
 Chetham, a man of much remark in for- 
 mer days, and some old writings in the 
 hands of worshipful persons, not far re- 
 mote from the place, do evidence as much ; 
 but the said Sir Geffery falling, in trouble- 
 some times, into the King's displeasure, 
 his family (in effect^ was long since min- 
 ated. It seems his posterity was unwil- 
 ling to fly far from their old (though de- 
 stroyed) nest, and got themselves a 
 handsome habitation at Crompsall, hard 
 by, where James, elder brother of this 
 Humphrey, did reside. The younger 
 brethren, George, Humphrey, and Ralph, 
 
 betook themselves to the trading of this 
 county, dealing in Manchester commodi- 
 ties, sent up to London ; and Humphrey 
 signally improved himself in piety and 
 outward prosperity. He was a diligent 
 reader of the Scriptures, and of the Works 
 of sound Divines; a respecter of such 
 Ministers as were accounted truly god- 
 ly, upright, sober, discreet, and sincere. 
 He was High Sheriffe of this County, 
 1635, discharging the place with great 
 honor; insomuoh that very good gentle- 
 man of birth and estate did wear his cloth 
 at the assize, to testify their unfeigned af- 
 fection to him ; and two of the same pro- 
 fession with himself, viz. John liartly and 
 H. Wrigley, Esquires, have since been 
 Sheriffes of the county. Grudge not, 
 Reader, to go through so long a porch; 
 for I assure thee it leads unto a fair palace ! 
 to as great a master-piece of bounty as 
 our age hath afforded. This Mr. Chetham, 
 by his will, bearing date the 16th Decem- 
 ber, 1651, gave £7000 to buy a fee-sim- 
 ple estate of £420 for ever, for the educa- 
 tion of forty poor children, in Manchester, 
 at school, from about six till fourteen years 
 of age, when they are to be bound out ap- 
 prentices. They must be of poor but 
 honest married parents, not diseased at 
 the time wherein they are chosen, not 
 lame or blind; in regard the town of 
 Manchester hath ample means already (if 
 so employed) for the maintenance of such 
 impotents. Indeed, he intended it for a 
 seminary of religion and ingenuity, where 
 the aforesaid boys were to have diet, 
 lodging, apparel, and instruction. He 
 gave £1000 for books to a library, and 
 £l00 to prepare a place for them. He 
 bequeathed £200 to buy books (such as 
 he himself delighted in) for the Churches 
 of Manchester, Bolton, and other Chapels 
 thereabouts. He gave the remainder of 
 his estate (debts and legacies first paid) 
 to the increase of the books in the library — 
 Now, as the loaves in the Gospel multi- 
 plied in the breaking, so Mr. Chetham's 
 estate did not shrink, but swelled, in the 
 calling of it in : insomuch that the sur- 
 plusage is known to be the better part of 
 two thousand pounds. Dying a batchelor, 
 he appointed George Chetham, Esq., ci- 
 tizen and grocer, of London (whereof he 
 was chosen alderman, 1656, and fined for 
 the same) and Edward Chetham, gentle- 
 man, executors of his will and testament : 
 " God send us more such men, that we 
 may dazzle the eyes of the Papists with 
 the light of Protestant gocd works." — And 
 
83 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 13. 
 
 84 
 
 know, reader, I am beholden for . my 
 exact information herein, to my worthy 
 friend Mr. Johnson, late preacher of the 
 Temple, ai^d one of the Feoffees ap- 
 pointed by Mr. Chetham, for the uses 
 aforesaid." 
 
 Where the college was erected by Tho- 
 mas West, lord de la Warre, formerly 
 stood the old manor house, called the 
 " Baron's Hall," which for many centu- 
 ries had been the chief residence of 
 the Gresleys, and De la Warres, lords of 
 the manor of Manchester. More anciently 
 it was the pleasing impregnable site of 
 the sammer camp of the Romans^ lined 
 >vith tall impregnable precipices, covered 
 with a fosse enormously deep and broad 
 before, and insulated by three lively cur- 
 rents of water around it. There, where 
 for more than eight successive centuries, 
 the public devotions of the town were re- 
 gularly offered — where, for more than 
 twenty successive generations, the plain 
 forefathers of the town were regularly re- 
 posited in peace — where the bold barons 
 of Manchester spread out the hospitable 
 board, in a rude luxurious magnificence, 
 or displayed the instructive mimicry of 
 war, in a train of military exercises — where 
 the fellows of the college studied silently 
 in their respective apartments, or walked 
 conversing in their common gallery — where 
 the youthful indigent now daily receive 
 the judicious dole of chajrity, and fold 
 their little hands in gratitude to God — 
 where peaceful students may now peace- 
 ably pursue their inquiries^there arose 
 the spreading pavilions of the Romans, 
 and there previously glittered the military 
 ensigns of the Frisians. The site of the 
 college was the site of the Roman prae-- 
 torium. The old approach to the camp 
 was by a military gateway, and probably 
 with a light bridge of timber across the 
 ditch, drawn up then (as it certainly was 
 in after ages) for the security of the man- 
 sion. Hence it acquired the appellation 
 of the hanging bridge, and communicated 
 to the fosse the abbreviated name of the 
 " Hanging Ditch,-" which still adheres to 
 a street constructed along the course of 
 the fosse, and skirting the cemetery of 
 Christ Church. 
 
 Be it remembered, by seekers of street 
 literature who visit Manchester, that at 
 Hanging Ditch lives the celebrated 
 "i Swindells," the great Manchestei printer 
 of 'murders, executions, marvellous tales, 
 
 ghost stories, ballads, prophecies, Christ- 
 mas carols, and other wonders and de- 
 lights, published at suitable seasons, and 
 oftener if need be, by the flying stationers, 
 " at the small price of one halfpenny." 
 
 The public library founded at Manches- 
 ter college l>y Humphrey Chetham is the 
 great attraction in Manchester to a bookish 
 man. It is the only library in the king- 
 dom in which every person has the liberty 
 of unlicensed reading. It is open to the 
 public daily, from nine in the morning 
 till one, and from two till five in the after- 
 noon; except in the interval from Octo- 
 ber to Easter, when it is closed at four 
 o'clock. Any one that chooses, whether 
 resident or not, on going to Chetham's 
 library, and requiring to read, ist requested 
 by the sub-librarian to write his name and 
 address ina hbokkeptforthatpurpose, and, 
 having done this, he is at liberty to read 
 on that and every other day, in a room 
 provided with requisites for writing. In 
 1791 a catalogue of the collection of 
 books and MSS, was printed in tvvo OC' 
 tavo volumes, arid in 1826 a third volume 
 containing subsequent additions. Several 
 of the MSS. are exceedingly ciirious; 
 the printed bopks are, in general, the best 
 works in history, philosophy, and science, 
 with goo4 editions of the classics. The 
 liberality which has provided, and thrown 
 open to unrestricted use, so vast a library, 
 is without example 
 
 In a gallery, which leads to the library, 
 there is a collection of what formerly 
 were deemed " curiosities." This is 
 shown and described to visitors who de- 
 sire it for a trifling acknowledgment. 
 The boys of the college are exhibitors in 
 turn, and, except perhaps to natives of 
 Lancashire, the show-boy is the greatest 
 curiosity. With a loud voice, and in a 
 dialect and intonation so peculiar as to 
 be indescribable, the boy directs the at- 
 tention of the JJustic and genteel alike, ito 
 the objects he exhibits. Happily, of 
 what he says there exists a report, which, 
 however seemingly ludicrous, is literally 
 faithful. 
 
 As soon as the show-boy enters: the 
 gallery of curiosities, he points at the ar- 
 ticles, and describes them as follows: — 
 
 " That's th' Skeleton of a Man— that!? 
 a (Globe -- that's a Telescope — that's a 
 Snake — oser th' snake's back's two 
 Watch Bills -^ those are four ancient 
 
05 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 13. 
 
 80 
 
 S-worfls — that with a white haft wonst be- 
 longed to General Wolfe— that's th' Whip 
 that th' Snake was kilt with — that top- 
 most's a Crocodile — that bottomost's an 
 Alligator — that boot wonst belonged to 
 Queen Elizabeth—that's an Indian Pouch 
 —that's an ancient Stiletto — that's part 
 of Humphrey Cheetham's Armour — that 
 with th' v^ile face is a Monkey — under 
 th' monkey's a green Lizard-^side o' th' 
 monkey's a Porpus's Skull — under th' 
 porpus's skull's an Alligator*— under th' 
 alligator's a Turtle — those Bows and Ar- 
 rows belonged to the Indians — that's a 
 Porpus's Head — those are various kinds 
 of Adders, W orms. Snakes, Fishes, and 
 venemous creatures — that Albine Piece 
 was taken from th' dead body of a French- 
 man that was killed at th' Battle of Wa- 
 terloo, that was foughi i' th' year eighteen 
 hundert and fifteen . — those are a pair of 
 Eagle's Claws — that Arrow belonged to 
 one o' th' legions that fought under th' 
 Duke of Richmond, at the battle of Bos- 
 worth Field, in ih' year 1485, when 
 King Richard the Third, king of England, 
 was slain— those Arrows wonst belonged 
 to Robin Hood — that's a Sea Hen — that's 
 a Sea Weed — that's a Unicorn Fish — 
 that's part of an Indian's Skull — that's 
 th' top part of it — that's part of Oliver 
 Cromwell's Stone and Tankard — nhose 
 Balls are took out of a Cow — that's part 
 of a Load Stone — ^those two Pieces of 
 Wood was Almanacks before printing 
 was found out — that's a Hairy Man — 
 under th' hairy man's a Speaking trum- 
 pet — side o' th' speaking trumpet's a 
 Shark's Jaw Bone — that that's leaning 
 'gainst th' speaking trumpet's Oliver 
 Cromwell's Sword — ^that's a Leathern Bag 
 — side o' th' leathern bag* two Cokey Nut 
 Shells — side o' the' cokey nut shells' a 
 Porpus's Skull — side o' th' porpus's 
 skull's a Pumpkin — sideo' th' pumpkin's 
 an American Cat — over th' pumpkin's a 
 Turtle— side o' th' turtle's a Sea Weed- 
 that top one's a Crocodile — under th' cro- 
 codile's an Alligator — Under th' alligator's 
 a Woman's Clog that was split by a 
 thunder bolt, and hoo wasn't hurt — side 
 o'th' crocodile's tail's a Sea Hen — side o' 
 th' sea hen's a Laplander's Snow Shoe — 
 I'hat in a box is th' Skeleton efa Night- 
 ingale/" 
 
 At the termination of this account, it 
 is usual for the show-boy to enter the 
 reading-room, with his company, and, to 
 the annoyance of readers, point out, with 
 the same loud showmanlike voice, the por- 
 
 traits of Chetham the founder, and cer- 
 tain other worthies of Manchester, long 
 since deceased, not forgetting an old in- 
 laid oak table. In conclusion, he claims 
 attention to the figure of a cock, carved in 
 wood, as the last curiosity, by saying, 
 " This is the Cock that crows when he 
 smells roast beef." Many of the country 
 people are far greater " curiosities" to a 
 bystander, than any in the collection they 
 come to see. They view all with gravity 
 and solemn surprise, and evidently with 
 conviction that they are at length wit- 
 nessiug some of the most wonderful won- 
 ders of World. B 
 
 The following ballad, in the Lancashire 
 dialect, contains an account of a holiday 
 trip to see the " curiosities," and is cha- 
 racteristic of the provincial manners. 
 
 Johnny Green's Wedding, and ee 
 scBiPTiON OP Manchester College. 
 Neaw iads -where ar yo beawn so fast, 
 Yo happun ha no yerd whot's past J 
 An gettun wed sin au'r here last. 
 
 Just three week sin come Sunday. 
 Au ax'd' th' owd folk, an aw wur reet. 
 So Nan an me agreed tat neet, 
 Ot if we could mak Ijoth eends meet^ 
 
 We'd wed o* Easter Monday, 
 That morn, as prim as pewter quarts. 
 Aw th' wenches room an browt th' sweet- 
 hearts 
 Au fund we'r loike to ha three carts, 
 
 'TwuT thrunkas Eccles Wakes, mon 
 We donn'd eawr tits i' ribbins too. 
 One red, one green, and tone wur blue. 
 So hey ! lads, hey ! away we flew, 
 
 Iioike a race for th* Ledger stakes, mon. 
 Reet merrily we drove, full bat. 
 An eh ! heaw Duke and Bobbin swat ; 
 Owd Grizzle wur so lawm an fat. 
 
 Fro soide to soide hoo jow'd um ; 
 Beawn Withy-Grove at last we coom. 
 An stopt at Seven Stars, by gum. 
 An drunk as mich warm ale and rum^ 
 
 As'd dreawn o'th' folk i' Owdham, 
 When th' shot wur paid an drink wur done. 
 Up Fennel-Street, to th' church, for fun. 
 We donc'd loike morris-dancers dun. 
 
 To th' best of aw meh knowledge : 
 So th' job wur done i' hoave a crack. 
 Boh eh I whot fun to get th' first smack ? 
 So neaw mch lads 'fore we gun back. 
 
 Says au, we'll look at th' college. 
 We seed a clock-case, first, good laws ! 
 Where death stnns up wi' great lung claws. 
 His legs, and wings, and lantern jaws, 
 
 They really look'd quite fearink. 
 There's snakes, an watch-bills just loike poikes 
 Ot Hunt an aw the reformink toikes 
 An thee an me, an Sam o Moiks, 
 
 Onc't took ablankcteerink. 
 
07 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 14. 
 
 ns 
 
 'Rh ! lorjus days, booath far an woidc. 
 There's yard's o' books at every stroidc. 
 Fro* top to bothum, eend an soide, 
 
 Sich plecks there's very few so : 
 Au axt him if they wum for t'sell. 
 For Nan loikes readink vastly well, 
 Boh th' measter wur eawt, so he couldna tell. 
 
 Or au'd bowt hnr Robinson Crusoe. 
 
 There's a trumpet speyks and maks a din. 
 An a shute o clooas made o tin. 
 For folk to goo a feightink in, 
 
 Just loike thoose chaps o' Boney's : 
 An there's a table carv'd so queer, 
 Wi' OS mony planks os days i' th' year. 
 An crinkum-crankums here an there, 
 
 Loike th' clooas press at meh gronney's. 
 
 There's Oliver Crumill'sbums an balls, . 
 An Frenchman's guns, they'd tean i' squalls. 
 An Swords, os lunk os me, on th' walls. 
 
 An bows an arrows too, mon ; 
 Au didna moind his fcarfo words, 
 Nor skeletons o men an birds. 
 Boh au fair hate seet o greyt lung swords 
 
 Sin th' feyght at Peterloo, mon. 
 
 We seed a wooden cock loikewisc. 
 Boh dang it, mon. thcas college boys. 
 They tell'n a pack o starink loies, 
 
 Os sure os teaw'r a sinner ; 
 That cock when it smells roast beef U crow 
 Says he ; boh, au said, teaw lies, au know. 
 An au con prove it plainly so, 
 
 Au've a peawnd i' meh hat for meh dinner. 
 
 Boh th* hairy mon had missed meh thowt. 
 An th' clog fair crackt by thunner bowt. 
 An th' woman noather lawmt nor nowt, 
 
 Thew ne'er seed th' loike sin t'urborn, mon. 
 There's crocodiles, an things indeed 
 Au colours, mak, shap, size, an breed. 
 An if au moot tell ton hoave au seed 
 
 We moot sit an smook till mom, mon. 
 
 Then dewn Lung-Mill-Gate we did steer 
 To owd Moike Wilson's goods-shop there. 
 To bey cawr Nan a rockink chear. 
 
 An pots, an spoons, an ladles : 
 Nan--bowt a glass for lookink in, 
 A tin Dutch oon for cookink in, 
 Au bowt a cheer for smookink in. 
 
 An Nan ax'd proice o' th' cradles. 
 
 Then th' fiddler struck up tli' honey-moon, 
 A n off we seet for Owdham soon. 
 We made owd Grizzle trot to th' tune, 
 
 JUvery yard o'th' way, mon. 
 A t neet oich lad an bonny lass. 
 Laws heaw they donc'd an drunk their glass. 
 So tiert wur Nan an I, by th' mass, 
 
 Ot we lay till twelve next day, mon. 
 
 It should not be forgotten that in col- 
 lection at the college there are two clog- 
 almanacs, similar to that which is engra- 
 ven as a frontispiece to the second vo- 
 
 lume of the Every Dai/ Book, and dc 
 cribed in that work.* 
 
 SanuAW! 14. 
 
 Mallard Day. 
 
 At All-Souls College, Oxford, there is 
 annually on the evening of this day a great 
 merry-naaking, occasioned by a circum- 
 stance related in " Oxoniensis Academia, 
 or the Antiquities and Curiosities of the 
 University of Oxford, by the Rev. John 
 Pointer," f who says, — 
 
 " Another custom is that of celeorating 
 their Mallard-night every year on the 14th 
 of January, in remembrance of a huge 
 mallard or drake, found (as tradition goes) 
 imprisoned in a gutter or drain under 
 ground, and grown to a vast bigness, at 
 the digging for the foundation of the Col- 
 lege. 
 
 '' Now to account for the longevity of 
 this mallard, Mr. WiUughby, in his Or-* , 
 nithology, tells us (p. 14, speaking of the 
 age of birds) that he was assured by a 
 friend of his, a person of very good credit, 
 that his father kept a goose known to be 
 eighty years of age, and as yet sound and 
 lusty, and like enough to have lived many 
 years.longer, had he not been forced to kill 
 her for her mischievousness, worrying and 
 destroying the young geese and goslings. 
 
 " And my lord Bacon, in his Natural 
 History, p. 286, says the goose may pass 
 among the long livers, though his food be 
 commonly grass and such kind of nourish- 
 ment, especially the wild-goose : where- 
 upon this proverb grew among the 
 Germans : Magis senex qu^m Ansernivalis 
 — older than a wild-goose. 
 
 " And, if a goose be such a long-lived 
 bird, why not a duck or drake, since I 
 reckon they may be both ranked in the 
 same class, though of a different species as 
 to their size, as a rat and a mouse ? 
 
 " And, if so, this may help to give 
 credit to our All-Souls mallard. How- 
 ever, this is certain, this mSiUard is the ac- 
 cidental occasion of a great gaudy once a 
 year, and great mirth, though the comme- 
 moration of their founder is the chief oc- 
 casion. For on this occasion is always 
 sung a merry old song." 
 
 * Whitaker. Aikin. Manchester Guide 
 Oratorical Guide, &c. 
 
 t London, 1749, 8vo. 
 
89 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 14. 
 
 00 
 
 This notice caused " A complete Vin- 
 dication of the Mallard of All-Souls Col- 
 lege, against the injurious suggestions of 
 the Rev. Mr. Pointer : " * a publica- 
 tion by a pleasant writer, who, with mock 
 gravity, contends that the illustrious mal- 
 lard had, through a " forged hypothesis," 
 been degraded into a goose. To set this 
 important affair in a true light, he proceeds 
 to say — 
 
 " I shall beg leave to transcribe a 
 passage from Thomas Walsingham, a 
 monk of St. Alban's, and regius professor 
 of history in that monastery about the 
 year 1440. This writer is well known 
 among the historians for his Historia 
 Brevis, written in Latin, and published 
 both by Camden and archbishop Parker : 
 but the tract I am quoting is in English, 
 and entitled, ' Of wonderful and surprising 
 Eventys,' and, zis far as I can find, has 
 never yet been printed. The eighth 
 chapter of his fiflh book begins thus : — 
 
 "'Ryghte wele worthie of note is 
 thilke famous tale of the All-Soulen Mal- 
 larde, the whiche, because it bin acted in 
 our dales, and of a suretye vouched unto 
 me, I will in fewe wordys relate. 
 
 " • Whenas Henrye Chichele, the late 
 renowned archbishope of Cantorberye, 
 had minded to founden a collidge in Ox- 
 enforde, for the hele of his soule and the 
 soules of all those who peryshed in the 
 warres of Fraunce, fighteing valiantlye 
 under our most gracious Henrye the 
 fifthe, moche was he distraughten con- 
 cerning the place he myghte choose for 
 thilke purpose. Him thiukyth some 
 Whylest how he myghte place it withouten 
 the eastern porte of the citie, both for the 
 plea.sauntnesse of the meadowes and the 
 clere streamys therebye runninge. Agen 
 him thinkyth odir whylest howe he mote 
 builden it on the northe side for the 
 heleful ayre there coming from the fieldes, 
 Nowe while he doubteth thereon he dremt, 
 and behold there appereth unto him one 
 of righte godelye personage, sayinge and 
 adviseing as howe he myghte placen his> 
 collidge in the highe strete of the citie, 
 nere unto the chirche of our blessed ladie 
 the Virgine, and in witnesse that it was 
 sowthe, and no vain and deceitful phan- 
 tasie, wolled him to laye the first stane of 
 the foundation at the corner which turneth 
 towards the Cattys-Strete, where in del- 
 vinge he myghte of a suretye finde a 
 
 ♦ Srd Edition, Oxford, 1793, 8vo. 
 
 schwoppinge mallarde imprisoned in the 
 sinke or sewere, wele yfattened and al 
 most ybosten. Sure token of the thriv- 
 aunce of his future college. 
 
 " ' Moche doubteth he when he awoke 
 on the nature of this vision, whethyr he 
 mote give hede thereto or not. Then ad- 
 visyth he there with monie docters and 
 learnyd clerkys, who all seyde howe he 
 oughte to maken trial upon it. Then 
 comyth he to Oxenforde, and on a daye 
 fixed, after masse seyde, proceedeth he 
 in solemnee wyse, with spades and pick- ' 
 axes for the nonce provided, to the place 
 afore spoken of. But long they had not 
 digged ere they herde, as it myghte seme, 
 within the warn of the erthe, horrid strug- 
 glinges and flutteringes, and anon violent 
 quaakinges of the distressyd mallarde. 
 Then Chichele lyfteth up his hondes and 
 seyth BenedJcite, &c. &.c. Nowe when 
 they broughte him forth, behold the size 
 of his bodie was as that of a bustarde or 
 an ostridge. And moche wonder was 
 thereat; for the lycke had not been seene 
 in this londe, ne in onie odir.' " 
 
 Upon this "historical proof" the vindi- 
 cator rests the verity of the venerable 
 mallard, and goes on to prove that " Mr. 
 Pointer, by taking the longevity of the mal- 
 lard for granted, hath endeavoured to es- 
 tablish thereon the hypothesis of the goose 
 in opposition to all truth and testimony, 
 both historical and prophetical." The vin- 
 dicator further affirms that he is greatly 
 surprised to find " an orthodox clergyman, 
 like Mr. Pointer, abetting errors, and 
 proposing (though obscurely) dangerous 
 innovations." For, he enquires, "would 
 any.one but this author have represented 
 so augsist a ceremony, as the celebration of 
 the mallard, by those vulgar circumstances 
 of eating and drinking, and singing a 
 merry old song ?" 
 
 However, to conclude all that can be 
 reasonably said of this commemoration 
 and its origin, and, because this " merry 
 old song " hath not been given by either 
 the alleged asperser or the cspouser of • 
 the bird of All-Souls, the ballad is ex- 
 tracted and printed below, from a collec- 
 tion well known to Oxonians. It must 
 not however be forgotten that the reverend 
 author of " A Companion to the Guide, 
 and a Guide to the Companion," which 
 purports to be "A complete supplement 
 to all the accounts of Oxford hitherto 
 published," says, in his preface, "that the 
 Reverend Mr. Pointer, rector of Slapton 
 in Northamptonshire, was but little ac 
 
91 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— JANUARY 15. 
 
 «2 
 
 quainted with our academical arnals, is 
 evident, from his supposing the mallard 
 of All-Souls College to be a goose." 
 
 The merry old sokg of the All- 
 
 Soui's MALLAED. 
 
 Griffin, bustai'd, turkey, capon. 
 Let other hungry mortals gape on ; 
 A^d on the bones their stomach fall hard, 
 Kut let All-Souls' men have their MALLARD. 
 Oh I by the blood of King Edward, 
 Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, 
 It was a swapping, swapping MALLAKD. 
 The Romaru once admired a gander 
 More than they did their chief commander ; 
 Because he sav*d, if some don't fool us. 
 The place that's called th' Tiead of Talus. 
 
 Oh ! by the blood, &^. 
 The poets feign Jove turned a swan. 
 But let them prove it if they can ; 
 As for our proof 'tis not at all hard. 
 For it was a swapping, swapping MALLARD. 
 
 Oh ! by the blood, &c. 
 
 Therefore let us sing and dance a galhard. 
 To the remembrance of the MALLARD : 
 And as the MALLARD dives in pool, 
 Let us dabble, dive, and duck in bowl. 
 
 Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, 
 Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, 
 It was a swapping, swapping MALLAKD. 
 
 
 
 h. 
 
 m. 
 
 January 14.- 
 
 —Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 
 
 51 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 7 
 
 53 
 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 4 
 
 7 
 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 
 
 8 
 
 Fieldfares 
 
 remain very numerous. 
 
 
 gianuats 15. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth was crowned at West- 
 minster on the 15th of January 1559, by 
 . the bishop of Carlisle, who was the only 
 prelate that could be prevailed upon to 
 perform the ceremony. She was con- 
 ducted through London amidst the joyful 
 acclamations of the people. In the course 
 of the procession, a boy, who personated 
 Truth, descending from a triumphal arch, 
 presented to her a bible, which she re- 
 ceived with gracious deportment, and 
 placed in her bosom ; declaring that it 
 was by far more precious and acceptable 
 than all the costly testimonies which the 
 city had that day givenher of their attach- 
 ment. She acquired a popularity beyond 
 what any of her predecessors or suc- 
 cessors could attain.* 
 
 * Hume. 
 
 Countn/'Woman't dress in qmen EUzabelK s 
 days. 
 
 The picture which Dunbar, in "The 
 Freirs of Berwick," has given us of the 
 dress of a rich farmer's wife in Scotland, 
 during the middle of the sixteenth century, 
 will apply, with, little difference, to the 
 still wealthier dames of England. He 
 has drawn her in a robe of fine scarlet 
 with a white hood ; a gay purse and 
 gingling keys pendant at her Side from a 
 silked belt of silver tissue ; on each finger 
 she wore two rings, and round her waist 
 was a sash of grass-green silk, richly em- 
 broidered with silver. 
 
 To this rural extravagance in dress, 
 Warner, in " Albion's England," bears 
 equal testimony, through two old gossips 
 cowering over their cottage^fire, and 
 chatting how the world had changed " in 
 their time." 
 
 When we were maids (quoth one of them) 
 Was no such,new-found pride : 
 Then wore they shoes of ease, now of 
 
 An inch-broad, corked high. 
 Black kersey stockings, worsted now. 
 
 Yea silk of youlhful'st dye : 
 Garters of list, but now of silk. 
 
 Some edged deep with gold • 
 With costlier toys for coarser turns 
 
 Than used perhaps of old. 
 Fringed and embroidered petticoats 
 
 Now beg. But heard you named, 
 Till now of late, busks, perriwigs. 
 
 Masks, plumes of feathers framed. 
 Supporters, posturs, farthingales. 
 
 Above the loins to wear ; 
 That be she ne'er so slender,' yet. 
 
 She cross-like seems four-squaie. 
 Some wives, gray-headed, shame not locka 
 
 Of youthful borrowed hair : 
 Some, tyring art, attire their heads 
 
 With only tresses bare : 
 Some (grosser pride than which, think I, ' ' 
 
 No passed age might shame) 
 By art, abusing nature, heads 
 
 Of antick't hair do frame. 
 Once starching lacVt the term, because 
 
 Was lacking once the toy. 
 And lack't we all these toys and terii^s. 
 
 It were no grief, but joy. — 
 Now dwells each drossel in her glass • 
 
 When I was young, I wot 
 On holy-days (for seldom else 
 
 Such, idle times we got) 
 A tub or pail of water clear 
 
 Stood us instead of glass.* 
 
 * Dr. Drake's Shakspeare and his Times, 
 i. 118. 
 
93 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 16 
 
 94 
 
 January 15.- 
 
 -Day breaks 
 Sun rises . 
 — sets 
 Twilight ends 
 
 50 
 
 52 
 
 8 
 
 10 
 
 Birds seek the shelter, food, and pro- 
 tection of the house. 
 The weather usually very haro. 
 
 BOTTLE CONJUROR. 
 
 On Monday, the 1 6th of January, 1 749, 
 it was announced by newspaper adver- 
 tisement that a person, on that evening, at 
 the Theatre Royal, in the Haymarket, 
 would play on a common walking cane 
 the musi6 of every instrument then in 
 use ; that he would, on the stage, get into 
 a tavern quart bottle, without equivoca- 
 tion, and, while there, sing several songs, 
 and suffer any spectator to handle the 
 bottle ; that if any spectator came masked 
 he would, if requested, declare who they 
 were; that, in a private room, he would 
 produce the representation of any person 
 dead, with whom the party requesting it. 
 should converse some minutes, as if alive ; 
 that the performance would begin at half- 
 past siic; and that a guard would be 
 placed at the doors to preserve order. 
 
 This advertisement assembled an im- 
 mense audience, who waited till seven 
 o'clock, and then, becoming impatient 
 and vociferous, a person came before the 
 curtain, and declared that, if the performer 
 did not appear, the money should be 
 returned. Afterwards, a voice behind the 
 curtain cried out that the performer 
 had not arrived, but, if .the audience 
 would stay till the next evening, instead 
 of going into a quart bottle, he would get 
 into a pint. A tumult then commenced, 
 by the throwing of a lighted candle from 
 one of the boze^ upon the stage. The 
 interior of the theatre was torn ^own and 
 burnt in the street, and a flag made of 
 the stage curtain was placed on a pole, in 
 the midst of the bonfire. During the riot, 
 the entrance money, which had been 
 secured in a box, according to contract 
 with the proprietor of the house, was 
 carried away. Several persons of high 
 rank were present, and the pickpockets 
 obtained a rich booty. A distinguished 
 general's rich sword was lost, for the 
 recovery of which thirty guineas were 
 offered. 
 
 On Wednesday, the 18th, a letter was 
 
 addressed lo the Morning Advertiser, by 
 the proprietor of the theatre, disavowing 
 connivance with the impostor, and stating 
 that, as 
 
 " The performance proposed was so 
 very extraordinary, it was stipulated with 
 the person that hired the house that there 
 should be a receiver of the proprietor's 
 own appointment at the office, and, in 
 case there should be no performance, or 
 any notorious equivocation, that (he 
 money should be returned. All which 
 was assented to, and, as the hirer paid 
 the rent, and would necessarily be at 
 other expenses before the opening of the 
 doors," the proprietor says, — 
 
 " I was thereby strongly induced to be- 
 lieve that he intended no real imposition, 
 but that something (of that kind) would 
 be exhibited to' the satisfaction of the 
 spectators. All the caution above men- 
 tioned was taken, and the money locked 
 up in the office, guarded by persons of 
 reputation, who would have returned it; 
 and publicly, on the stage, told them that 
 if the person did not appear their money 
 should be returned. But, instead of com- 
 plying with that offer, my house was 
 pulled down, the office broken open, the 
 nfbney taken out, and the servants obliged 
 to fly to save their lives. I hope, there- 
 fore, this may be deemed a sufficient 
 justification in my behalf, and all that 
 could be reasonably expected from me; 
 and that those gentlemen who are conscious 
 of having injured me will be so generous 
 as to make me a reasonable satisfaction, 
 considering the damage I have suffered, 
 which, on a moderate computation, will 
 exceed four hundred pounds. 
 
 " JoBN Potter." 
 
 On the same day there appeartd in the 
 same paper an advertisement from Mr. 
 Foote, the comedian, whence it appears 
 that he had been accused of having been 
 accessory to the cheat. This, Foote 
 utterly denied, and alleged that on the 
 morning of the expected performance he 
 called on Mr. Lewis, Potter's attorney, 
 and gave him his opinion that a fraud on 
 the public was intended, and therefore 
 advised that the doors should not be 
 opened. Lewis's answer was, that if the 
 man complied with his agreement, the 
 doors must be opened. Foote then re- 
 commended him not to suffer, on any 
 pretence, the man, or any of his confede- 
 rates, to receive a shilling, but appoint a 
 treasurer, in order, if disappointment 
 occurred, the money might be returneii, 
 
95 
 
 THE YEA.U BOOK.— JANUAHY 18. 
 
 96 
 
 Potter's letter re-appeared in Thursday's 
 paper, vfith this " N. B. The person who 
 took the house was a man of genteel 
 appearance ; said his name was William 
 NichoUs ; and directed letters to be left 
 for him at the Bedford Coffee-house, Co- 
 vent Garden." 
 
 The secret history of the imposture was 
 never discovered to the public, but it was 
 rumored that the affair originated in a 
 wager proposed by a well-known rakish 
 nobleman, which had been accepted, and, 
 to win the bet, he contrived and effected 
 the mischievous trick. 
 
 Within a week from the affair of the 
 bottle conjuror, an advertisement pro- 
 posed to rival . his astonishing non-per- 
 formance, by stating that there had lately 
 arrived from Ethiopia "the most won- 
 derful and surprising Doctor Benimbo 
 Zimmampaango, dentist and body-surgeon 
 to the emperor of Monoemongi," who, 
 among other surprising operations, pro- 
 posed to perform the following : "He 
 offers any one of the spectators, only to 
 pull out his own eyes, which, as soon as 
 he has done, the doctor will show them 
 to any lady or gentleman then present, to 
 convince them there is no cheat, and then 
 replace them in the sockets as perfect and 
 entire as ever." 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 16. — Day breaks . . 5 49 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 51 
 
 — sets ... 4 9 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 11 
 
 The dead nettle, or red archangel, 
 
 flowers, if the weather be mild. Like 
 
 grounsel, it flowers nearly all the year. 
 
 ^amxavvi 17. 
 
 A Big Bottle. 
 In January, 1751, a globular bottle 
 was blown at Leith, capable of holding 
 two hogsheads. Its dimensions were 
 forty inches by forty-two. This immense 
 vessel was the largest ever produced at 
 any glass work. 
 
 h. ni. 
 January 17. — Day breaks . . 5 48 
 Sun rises . . . 7 50 
 — sets ... 4 10 
 Twilight ends . 6 12 
 The garden anemone, or windflower, 
 flowers. It is the red variety wliich blows 
 thus early. The usual season for the other 
 sorts is April and May. 
 
 Samuel Bernard, one of the richest and 
 most celebrated financiers of Europe, died 
 in Paris, the 18th of January 1739, at the 
 age of eighty-eight. He was an elder of 
 the Protestant church of Charenton. By 
 rendering great services to the court, he 
 gained immense sums, and was created , 
 count of Coubert and a knight of St. 
 Michel. His funeral procession equalled 
 that of a prince in point of magnificence, 
 and in the train of distinguished attendants. 
 
 Bernard was a man of pleasantry. In 
 his expiring moments, Languet, the rector 
 of St. Sulpice, who was indefatigable in 
 obtaining subscriptions for the building of 
 his church, exhorted the dying man to 
 contribute to the structure ; " for," said he, 
 " wliat do not they merit who are able to 
 participate in the edification of the temple 
 of the Lord?" Bernard, endeavouring 
 to turn his head to the rector, said, 
 " Hold up your hand, sir, or I shall see 
 your cards. 
 
 The rector Languet was an excellent 
 parish priest, and incessantly devoted to 
 the rebuilding of his church, for which 
 purpose he turned everything into money, 
 and solicited subscriptions in all quartern. 
 The Jansenists were jealous of his endef,- 
 vours and his success. On paying his duty 
 to the archbishop of Paris,- when thst 
 prelate took possession of the archbishop- 
 ric, the rector -was surprised to find that 
 he had been accused of having carried on 
 trade, for which the archbishop severely 
 reproved him. Languet denied the 
 charge. " Do not you sell ice ?" said the 
 Bishop. " Yes, my Lord : when the 
 workmen I employ in building my church 
 cannot work, in frosty weather, I make 
 them break and pile up the ice, which I 
 sell to furnish them with subsistence in 
 these hard times." " Oh," said the prelate^ 
 " I don't understand it in that manner, and 
 you sell a great deal, I find." " Not so much 
 as I should, " said the good rector, " li 
 the Jansenists had not spread a report that 
 my ice was warm.* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 18. — Day breaks . . 5 47 
 
 Si'n rises ... 7 58 
 
 — sets ... 4 13 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 13 
 
 The four-toothed moss flowers. 
 
 * Polyanthea, ii. 379. 
 
9? 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— JANUARY I!*. 
 
 m 
 
 A TRAVELLING CARRIAGE. 
 
 Forty years ago, six miles an hour was 
 reckoned fair speed for a stage coach. In 
 France, twenty years before, the travelling- 
 carriage was the waggon-like machine of 
 wicker-work represented in the engraving, 
 which is taken from a view on a high-road, 
 
 Eubtished in the early part of the reign of 
 ouis XVI., who came to the throne in 
 1774. There is no coach-box to this ve- 
 hicle ; the driver sits leisurely on one of 
 the horses; his passengers, inside and 
 outside, loll leisurely ; and his horses 
 drag leisurely. Instead of glasses there 
 are leathern curtains, which unfurl from 
 the lop, and furl up, and flap when down, 
 or wholly obscure the light. It is little 
 better, and perhaps it moved only a little 
 quicker, than a common stage-waggon. 
 Our own , Stage-coaches in the time of 
 George II. were scarcely of superior con- 
 trivances. 
 
 When M. Sorbiere, a French man of 
 letters, came to England, in the reign of 
 Charles II., for the purpose of being in- 
 troduced to the king, and visiting our 
 most distinguished literary and scientific 
 characters, he proceeded from the place 
 of his landing to the metropolis, by a con- 
 
 VOL. I.— 4 
 
 veyanee now used only by poor country- 
 women, and foot-sore' trampers. He 
 says, — " That I might not take post, or 
 be obliged to use the stage-coach, I went 
 irom Dover to London in a waggon : i 
 was drawn by six horses, one before 
 another, and drove by a waggoner, who 
 walked by the side of it. He was clothed 
 in black, and appointed in all things like 
 another St, George; he had a brave 
 mounteror on his head, and was a merry 
 fellow, fancied he made a figure, and 
 seemed mightily pleased with himself.* 
 
 SJattuarp 19. 
 
 Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, a 
 scholar and a poet, " a man" esteemed by 
 Sir Walter Raleigh " no less valiant than 
 learned, and of excellent hopes," was be- 
 headed on Tower Hill, for high treason, 
 on the 19th of January, 1547. 
 
 The Earl of Surrey had served in Flod- 
 den Field, in 1513, and held the office of 
 
 • Sobiere's Voyaje to England, 1709. 8v». 
 p. 7. 
 
 >: 
 
09 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 20- 
 
 100 
 
 bigh admiral of England : in compliment 
 to Henry VIII., he had been made ad- 
 miral of Spain by the emperor Charles V. 
 He distinguished himself at home and 
 abroad by bravery of arms, courtesy of 
 manners, and literary accomplishments. 
 When Henry, in his latter days, retained 
 the desire without the power of gratifi- 
 cation, and remembrance of his great 
 crimes terrified his feeble c6nscience, 
 he became jealous of his best servants. 
 Surrey,who quartered the arms of Edward 
 the Confessor, by authority of the court 
 of arms, was, on that pretence, suspect- 
 ed of aspiring to the crown, and the king 
 sent him to the scaffold. The decease of 
 the sensual monarch nine days afterwards 
 prevented the death of Surrey's father, 
 the Duke of Norfolk, whose execution 
 had been appointed for the foliowrng 
 morning. 
 
 And thereto hath a troth as just 
 As had Penelope the fair : 
 For what she saith ye may it trust. 
 As it by writing sealed were ; 
 And virtues hath she many moo 
 Than I with pen have skill to show. 
 I could rehearse, if that I would. 
 The whole effect of Nature's plaint. 
 When she had lost the perfect mould. 
 The like to whom she could not paint. 
 With wringing hands how she did cry ! 
 And what she said, 1 know it, I. 
 I know she swore, with raging mind. 
 Her kingdom only set apart. 
 There was no loss, by law of kind. 
 That could have gone so near her heart 
 -And this was chiefly all her pain 
 She coiald not make the like again.* 
 
 Among the "noble authors" of hi* 
 age, the Earl of Surrey stands pre-emi- 
 nently first in rank. In his early youth he 
 made the tour of Europe in the true spirit 
 of chivalry, and by the caprice of Henry 
 he was recalled from Italy, where he had 
 engaged in tournament and song for love 
 of a lady, the "fair Geraldine,'' whose 
 identity has escaped discovery. He re- 
 turned home the most elegant traveller, 
 the Wiost polite lover, the most learned 
 nobleman, and the most accomplished 
 gentleman of his age. Surrey's sonnets 
 in praise of the lady of his love are in- 
 tensely impassioned, and polished. 
 English poetry, till refined by Surrey, dfe- 
 generated into metrical chronicles br 
 tasteless allegories. His love verses equal 
 the best in our language ; while in har- 
 mony of numbers, perspicuity of expres- 
 sion, and facility of phraseology, they 
 approach so near the productions of our 
 oWn age, as hardly to be believed the off- 
 spring of the reign of Henry VIII. War- 
 on perceives almost the ease and gal- 
 antry of Waller in some of the following 
 tanzas, — 
 
 A PRAISE OF HIS VOV%. 
 
 Wherein he reproveth them that compare 
 •their ladies with his. 
 
 Oive place, ye lovers, liere before 
 
 That spent your boasts and brags in vain : 
 
 My lady's beauty passeth more 
 
 The best of yours, I dare well sayne. 
 
 Than doth the sun the candle lights 
 
 Or brightest day the darkest night. 
 
 January 19. — Day breaks . 
 
 Sun rises ■ . 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 The eold crest sings. 
 
 h. m, 
 
 5 46 
 7 47- 
 4 13 
 
 6 14 
 
 S&nuavv! 20. 
 
 John Howard, the philanthropist, died 
 at Cherson, in Russia, on the 20th of 
 Jannary, 1790. He was bom in 1726, 
 and, devoting his life to active benevolence, 
 made " a circiimnavigation of charity," 
 visiting the prisons and lazarettoes of 
 different countries, with a view to miti- 
 gate the hardships of the distressed. 
 
 As a gratification to the curious, a 
 gentleman obligingly communicates the 
 following 
 
 Otfiginal Letter from Mr. Howard. 
 
 Cologn, August 4, 1770. 
 I hope my dear Friend does not think 
 any distance can make me forget the long 
 friendship that has subsisted betwixt us. 
 Little to entertain my friend, yet must 
 tell him what a 'Rambler I am. When I 
 left London last year for Leghorn I was 
 so ill a-board that I crost into France, 
 and went into Switzerland, so to Turin 
 and the northern part of Italy. As winter 
 travelling;, so bad in Italy I returned into 
 France and went to Holland, and early 
 in the Spring I sett out and visited the 
 
 * Another stanza closes this poiem. Par- 
 ticulars respecting the Barl of Surrey anii his 
 works are in Warton's History of English 
 Poetry, 8vo. iii. 288 ; Walpole's Royal and 
 Noble Authors by Paifc, 8vo. i. 2.55, &u ' 
 
.61 
 
 THE YEAR BQOK.—JANUARV 21. 
 
 102 
 
 Soutnern. part of France and crost tlie 
 Apennine .mountains, which iodeed are 
 very had, for miles often not above a 
 three foot toad, with perpendicular rocks 
 three times as high as St. Paul's, but use, 
 and the surefootedness of the mules, soon 
 wore off any fear. Again into Italy, 
 where I have been all this summer. 
 Should I begin to describe the elegance 
 of their Paiaces or Churches, the Statues, 
 or Pictures, my letter would soon be fiU'd. 
 A rich fine country, great entertainment 
 to a Traveller ; but the Inhabitants lazy, 
 idle, proud, profligate in the highest 
 degree, which gives pain to a thinking 
 mind and iiejoices his lott is not cast 
 among them. The Heat was excessive 
 both at Naples, Rome, and Venice. Every 
 body lays down for some hours in the 
 middle of the day- I often observed the 
 profound silence in the streets at Rome 
 at 2, 3, and 4 .o'Clock. I was at Venice 
 within this moisth: the heat beyond any 
 thing fe}t in England. I have much ado 
 since I have been travelling in Xjoeisnany 
 to keep my great coat off. I went to 
 Loretto, where so miu^y of our Country- 
 men went Pilgrimages in the time of 
 darkness. Ignorance, and folly. Should i 
 try 40 describe to you the Superstition 
 and folly one hears and sees you would I 
 am afraid almost think your fziend took 
 the liberty some travellers do — their 
 creeping on their knees round their pre- 
 tended holy chamber, kissing the dust, 
 raakeing maraculus Cakes of it, which I 
 know are wonderfully , 'nasty. , Great 
 reasons to bless God for the Reformation 
 that we ought so highly to value, when 
 we see the idolatry, superstition^ and non- 
 sense in the Romish Religion, t enjoy 
 a comfortable state of Health. The mi- 
 serable shifts I have often been put to, 
 and being alone makes it still a greater 
 happiness. A calm easy flow of spirits, 
 but somewhat fatigueing in this Country. 
 As I have notiny own CaxjAaige, -which is 
 very expensive, am forced to travel one 
 or two nights together. The roads 
 vejy bad, the .Post Stages always going 
 ffight and day. I have the pleasure of 
 drawing near to my dear boy and friends, 
 whom indeed I long to see, yet I am not 
 fixtin my returning scheme. May I hope 
 to hear by a letter at the Post House at 
 Rotterdam how you and 'Mrs. Hamilton 
 do, to whom ray best Respects, and te'Il 
 Her a rambling, disposition is not conta- 
 
 fious when I come -to Her house, where 
 hope to have >the pleasure >of>drinking a 
 
 dish of Tea next Winter. I must conelnde 
 with much Esteem, I am Dear Sir Your 
 Affectionate Friend and Relation, 
 
 J. Howard. 
 Fro Bruxelles, 
 To Mr. Hamilton, 
 
 Merchant, 
 In Cateaton Street, 
 London. 
 
 Maxims, by Howard. 
 
 Our superfluities shojj,ld be giyen up 
 for the copvenience of otbars; 
 
 Our conveniences sljiould give place to 
 the necessities of .others; 
 
 And even our necessities give way to 
 the extremities of the poor. 
 
 January 20 Day breaks • • 5 45 
 
 Sun rises . . . 7 4C 
 - - sets ... 4 14 
 Twilig]^ ends . 6 IS 
 The missel -thrush, or mavis, singn. 
 
 Ssmuavv 21. 
 
 WJNTF/R. 
 
 Cottage St^ief. 
 
 The dame itbe wiater nig^t itegale* 
 With winter's never ceasing .tales ; 
 While in a corneri ill at eaae^ 
 Or crushing 'tween their father's knee , 
 The children — silent all the while. 
 And e'en repressed the laugli or smifc— 
 Quake with the ague chills of fear. 
 And tremble though they love to hear ; 
 Starting, while they the tales retail. 
 At their own shadows on the wall : 
 Till the old clock, that strikes unseen, 
 33ehiad the picture-painted screen. 
 Counts oyer bed-time, hour of jest. 
 And bids each he sleep's fefinful gue^t. 
 She then her half-told tales will leave 
 To finish on to-morrow's .eye t— "" 
 The children steal away to bed 
 And up the staircase softly tread ; 
 Scarce daring— from their fearful joys — 
 To look behind or make a noise ; 
 Ifor speak a word! but, still as sleep, 
 They secret to their pillows creep. 
 And whimper o'er in terror's way 
 The prayers they dare no longer say-; 
 Then hide their heads beneath the clocltea. 
 And try Iq vain to seek repose. 
 
 CUire. 
 
 JL C.llOST STOBV. 
 
 At a town in the west of England al 
 club of twenty-four people ussem^ed 
 
loa 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK^- JANUARY 22. 
 
 104 
 
 once a week to drink punch, smoke to- 
 bacco, and talk politics. Each member 
 had his peculiar ch{iir, and the president's 
 tras. more exalted than the rest. It was a 
 rule that if a member was absent his 
 chair should remain vacant. 
 
 One evening at the meeting of the 
 club there vras a vacant chair, vrhich had 
 remained empty for several nights. It 
 belonged to a member who was believed 
 to be in a dying state, and inquiries were 
 naturally made after their associate. He 
 lived in the adjoining house. A particular 
 friend went himself to inquire for him, 
 aud reported to the club that he could 
 not possibly survive the night. This dis- 
 mal tidings threw a damp on the company. 
 They took off their glasses without turning 
 lively ; they smoked, and still they were 
 gloomy: all efforts to turn the conversa- 
 tion agreeably were ineffectual. 
 
 At about midnight, the time when the 
 club was usually most cheerful, a silence 
 prevailed in the room, the door gently 
 opened, and the form, in white, of the 
 dying man, walked into the room, and 
 took a seat in the accustomed chair. 
 There it remained in silence, and in silence 
 was gazed at. His appearance continued 
 a sufficient time in the chair to convince 
 all present of the reality of the vision. 
 But they were in a state of awful astonish- 
 ment. At length the apparition arose 
 and stalked towards the door, opened it, 
 as if living — went out, and closed the 
 door afterwards. 
 
 After a long pause, a member at last 
 had the resolution to say, " If only one 
 of us had seen this, he would not have 
 been believed, but it is impossible that 
 so many persons can be deceived." 
 
 The company by degrees recovered 
 their speech ; and the whole conversa- 
 tion, as may be imagined, was respecting 
 the object of their alarm. They broke up 
 in a body, and went home. 
 
 In the morning, inquiry was made after 
 their sick friend. He dad died as nearly 
 as possible about the time of his appear- 
 ing at the club. There was scarcely room 
 for doubt before, but now there was absolute 
 certainty of the reality of the apparition. 
 
 The storj' spread over the country, and 
 was so well attested as to obtain general 
 belief; for, in this case, the fact was at- 
 tested by three-and-twenty credible eye- 
 witnesses, all of them living. 
 
 Several years had elapsed, and the 
 ^tory had ceased to engage attention, and 
 was almost forgotten, when one of the 
 
 club, who was an apothecary, in the course 
 of his practice attended an old woman, 
 who gained her living by nursing sick per- 
 sons. She was now ill herself, and, finding 
 her end near at hand, she told the apothe- 
 cary she could leave the world with a 
 good conscience, ejtcept for one thing 
 which lay on her mind. — " Do not you 
 remember, sir," she said, " the poor gen- 
 tleman whose ghost has been so much 
 talked of? I was his nurse. The night 
 he died I left the room for something I 
 wanted — I am sure I had not been ab- 
 sent long ; but, at my return, I found the 
 ^bed without my patient. I knew he was 
 delirious, and I feared that he had thrown 
 himself out of the window. I was so 
 frightened that I had no power to stir : 
 but after some time, to my great astonish- 
 ment, he came back shiveringj with his 
 teeth chattering, and laid down on the 
 bed, and died. Considering I had done 
 wrong by leaving him, I kept it a secret 
 that he had left the room; and indeed I 
 did not know what might be done tc me. 
 I knew I could explain all the story of 
 the ghost, but I dared not do it. From 
 what had happened I was certain that it 
 was he himself who had been in the club 
 room, perhaps recollecting that it was the 
 night of meeting. God forgive me for 
 keeping it secret so long! — and, ^if the 
 poor gentleman's friends forgive me, I 
 shall die in peace. " 
 
 '^. a., 
 
 Jonuary 21.— Day breaks . . .5 44 
 
 Sun rises . . . 7 45 
 
 — sets ... 4 15 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 16 
 
 The black hellebore fully flowers. 
 
 ilanuars 22. 
 
 FAMILY DECAY. 
 
 A MS. diary of a resident of the metro- 
 polis, purchased among some waste paper 
 at a place " where it is part of the craft of 
 dealing not to tell how they come by what 
 they sell," contains the following entry : — 
 " 1772, January 22.— Died in Emanuel 
 hospital, Mrs. Wyndymore, cousin of 
 Mary, queen of William III., as well as 
 of queen Anne. Strange revolution of 
 fortune I that the cousin of two queens 
 should, for fifty years, be supported by 
 charity I " * Of this lady there does not 
 
 Relics of Literature, 304. 
 
105 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 23. 
 
 10« 
 
 appear to be sny printed account. A per- 
 son of leisure might be interested by in- 
 quiring into the real affinity which this 
 female, who died in an alms-house, bore to 
 two sovereigns on the throne of England. 
 
 h, m 
 Jiaauuy 22. — Day breaks . . 5 43 
 Sun rises ... 7 43 
 — sets ... 4 17 
 Twilight ends . 6 17 
 Sun beams to-day formerly betokened 
 something to the credulous, as appears by 
 an obsolete saying, the meaning of which 
 is lost. See Every-Bay Book, i. 151. 
 
 Sanuavv! 23. 
 
 THE COUKTKV. 
 
 Do you know " Our Village ?" It is a 
 book — without exception the most de- 
 lightful book^of descriptions of the coun- 
 try, and country life, xind manners, that 
 can be looked into — and all the better for 
 coming from the pen of a lady. There is 
 in it, under the date of to day, a picture 
 of frost scenery, as true and good as a 
 landscape after rain by Constable : it is 
 an account of a winter morning's walk 
 and of the village carpenter's daughter, a 
 little girl, so charming that she must be 
 introduced — and then to the walk. 
 
 Ute Village Carpenter's Daughter. 
 
 — " Next door lives a carpenter ' famed 
 ten miles round, and worthy all his fame,' 
 — few cabinet-makers surpass him, with 
 his excellent wife, and their little daughter 
 Lizzy, the plaything and queen of the 
 village, a child three years old according 
 to the register, but six in size and strength 
 and intellect, in power and in self-will. 
 She manages every body in the place, her 
 school-mistress included ; turns the 
 wheeler's children out of their own little 
 cart, and makes them draw her; seduces 
 cakes and lollipops from the very shop 
 window; makes the lazy carry her, the 
 silent talk to her, the grave romp with her ; 
 does^y thing she pleases ; is absolutely 
 irresWible. Her chief attraction lies in 
 her exceeding power of loving, and her 
 firm reliance on the love and indulgence 
 of others. How impossible it would be 
 to disappoint the dear little girl when she 
 runs to meet you, slides her pretty hand 
 into yours, looks up gladly in your face, 
 and says, ' come !' You must go : you 
 
 cannot help it. -Another part of her 
 charm is her singular beauty. Together 
 with a good deal of the character of Na- 
 poleon, she has something of his square, 
 sturdy, upright form, with the finest limbs 
 in the world, a complexion purely English, 
 a round laughing face, sunburnt and rosy, 
 large merry blue eyes, curling brown hair, 
 and a wonderful play of countenance. She 
 has the imperial attitudes too, and loves 
 to stand with her hands behind her, or 
 folded over her bosom ; and sometimes, 
 when she has a little touch of shyness, she 
 clasps them together on the top of her 
 head, pressing down her shining curls, 
 and looking so exquisitely pretty t Yes, 
 Lizzy is queen of the village I " 
 
 January 23d. — ^At noon. to-day I and 
 my white greyhound, May-flower, set out 
 for a walk into a very beautiful world, — a 
 sort of silent fairy-land, — a creation of 
 that matchless magician the hoar-frost. 
 There had been just snow enough to 
 cover the earth and all its colors with 
 one sheet of pure and uniform white, and 
 just time enough since the snow had 
 fallen to allow the hedges to be freed of 
 their fleecy load, and clothed with a deli- 
 cate coating of rime. The atmosphere 
 was deliciously calm ; soft, even mild, iii 
 spite of the thermometer ; no perceptible 
 air, but a stillness that might almost be 
 felt: the sky, rather grey than blue, 
 throwing out in- bold relief the snow-co- 
 vered roofs of our village, and the rimy 
 trees that rise above them, and the sun 
 shining dimly as through a veil, giving a 
 pale fair light, like the moon, only brighter. 
 There was a silence, too, that might be- 
 come the moon, as we stood at our little 
 gate looking up the quiet street ; a sab- 
 bath-like pause of work and play, rare on 
 a work-day ; nothing was audible but the 
 pleasant hum of frost, that low monoton- 
 ous sound which is perhaps the nearest 
 approach that life and nature can make to 
 absolute silence. The very waggons, as 
 they come down the hill along the beaten 
 track of crisp yellowish' frost-dust, glide 
 along. like shadows; even May's bound- 
 ing footsteps, at her height of glee, and of 
 speed, fall like snow upon snow. 
 
 But we shall have noise enough pre- 
 sently : May has stopped at Lizzy's door ; 
 and Lizzy, as she sat on the window-sill, 
 with her bright rosy face laughing through 
 the casement, has seen her and disap- 
 peared. She is cominc. No I The key 
 
J07 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 33. 
 
 UW 
 
 is turning iii th6 door, and sounds of evil 
 omen issue thiftfUgh the key-hole^-stardy 
 * let me outs', ahd ' I will gos', mixed with 
 Shrill cries on May and on me from Lizzy, 
 piercing through a low continuous ha- 
 fangue, of which the prominent parts are 
 apologies, chilblains, sliding, brbken 
 bones, lollypbps, rods, and gingerbread, 
 from Lizzy's careful mother. ' Don't 
 scratch the door, MaV ! Don't roar so, my 
 Liz:^y ! We'll call for you as we come 
 back.' — ' I'll go now ! Let me Out 1 I will 
 gol' are thd last words of Miss Li^zy. 
 Mem. Not to spoil that child — if I can 
 help it. IBut I do think her mother 
 inight have let the poor little soul walk 
 with us to-day. Nothing wotse for child- 
 ren than coddling. Nothing better for 
 chilblains than exercise. Besides, I don't 
 believe she has any ; and; as to breaking 
 her bones in sliding, I dOn't Suppose 
 there's a slide on the cortitnon. These 
 murmuring cogttatitinS have brought us 
 Up the hill, and half-way across the light 
 and airy coniihOri, With its btight expanse 
 of snow and its clusters of cottages, whose 
 turf fires send such wreaths of smoke sail- 
 ing up the air, and diffuse fiuch aromatic 
 ftagi'ihce around. And now comes the 
 3elightful sound of childish voideS, ringing 
 ■with glee and merriihentalso from benfeath 
 our feet. Ah, Liz«y, ytjiir thbther was 
 right ! They ate shoutiHg from that deep 
 irregular pool, all glass noW, ^here, oil 
 two long, smooth, liny slides, half a dozen 
 ragged urchins ate slipping along in tot- 
 tering triumph. Half a dozen StgpS brings 
 us to the bank right abovs th^i*. May 
 can hardly resist the temptatioli of joining 
 hei: friends ; for most (if the varlets are of 
 her acquaintance; espedlslly the fogue 
 who leads the Slide,-^he with the btimies^ 
 hat, whbse br'otiifed cbftiplixibh and white 
 ihaxen hair, reversibg thfe uSUal lights and 
 shadows of thfe huinaji toiit.tefeilHc*, give 
 so strange ahd foreign a -loBk to his flkt 
 and cOmic featiires. This hbbgfciBlin, Jack 
 Rapley by name, is May's grtat crbhy ; 
 dhd she stands on the brink bf the Steep 
 irregular deBceht, her black eyes fixed fhll 
 lipon him, as if she ihteiided hiiii the fil- 
 vnr of jumping oh his head. She does ; 
 she is down, and upon him : but Jack 
 Rapley is hot eisily to be ktibckfed oft his 
 feet. He saw her Corhin^, aiid IH the mo- 
 merit of -her leap sprang flejEferoufely off 
 the slideon the rough ite. Steadying him- 
 self by the shbtild'er of the next in the fil'e,, 
 ■ which iinUioky follower, thus Unexpe'ctediy 
 checked in his cateer, fell plump back- 
 
 wards, knbcking down tne rest of the liiM 
 like a nest of card-houses. Theie is ho 
 harm done; but there they lie roaring, 
 kicking, sprawling, in every attitude of 
 comic distress, whilst Jack ilapley and 
 Mayflower, sole authors of this calamity, 
 stand apart from the throng, fondling and 
 coquetting, and complimenting each other, 
 and very visibly laughing. May in her 
 black eyes, Jack in his wide close-shut 
 mouth, and his whole monkey-face, at 
 their comrades' mischances. I think, 
 miss May, you niay as well come up 
 again, and leave master Rapley to fight 
 your battles. HeMl get out of the scrape. 
 He is a rustic wit — a sort of Robin Good- 
 fellow — the sauciest, idlest, cleverest, best- 
 natured boy in the parish ; always fore- 
 most in mischief, and always ready to do 
 a good turn. 'The sageS of our village 
 predict sad things of Jack Rapley, so that 
 I am sometimes a little ashamed to con- 
 fess, before wise people, that I have a lurk- 
 ing predilection for him (in common with 
 other naughty ones), and that 1 like to 
 hear him talk to May alniost as well as she 
 does. ' Come May !' and up she springs, 
 as light as a bird. 'The road i^ gay 
 now ; carts and post-chaises, and girls in 
 red-cloaks, and, afar off, looking almost 
 like a toy, the coach. It meets us fast and 
 soon. How much happier the walkers 
 look than the riders — especially the frost- 
 bitten gentleman, and the shivering lady 
 with the invisible face, sole passengers of 
 that commodious machine ! Hpoded, 
 veiled, and bonneted, as she is, one sees 
 from her attitude how miserable she would 
 look uncovered 
 
 Anothet pbndj and another noise of 
 fchildren. More sliding? Ohlno. This 
 is a Sport of higher pretension. Our good 
 neighbour, the lieutenant, skaitiiigl and 
 his oVpii ptetly little bbys, and two or 
 three Other four-year-old felve6< standing 
 on the bifink ifi ati ecstacy of joy and 
 wortdef! Oh WhW hapjsy spectators! 
 And what a hapjjy performer ! They ad- 
 miring, he admiVed, with an ardour and 
 sibcerity never eScited by all the quad- 
 rilles ihd the Spread-eagles of the Seine 
 and thfe Serpentine. He really sk^ well 
 though, aiid 1 am glAS I tame th"way; 
 for, with all the father's ftelings sitting 
 gkily at his hfeart, it taust still gratify the 
 pride of skill to have bnfe spectator At that 
 solitary pond who has seen skaiting be- 
 fore. 
 
 Now we have reached the trees -^ the 
 hdautiftil trees! tiever so beautiful as to 
 
109 
 
 TWE, YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 83. 
 
 110 
 
 day. Imagine the effect of a straight and 
 regular double avenue of oalcs, nearly a 
 mile long, arching over head, and closing 
 into perspective like the roof and colun\ns 
 of a cathedral, every tree and branch en- 
 crusted with the bright »nd delicate con- 
 gelation of hoar frost, white and pure as 
 snow, delicate and defined as carved ivory. 
 How beautiful it is, how uniform, bow- 
 various, how filling, how satiating to the 
 eye and to the mind ! — above all, how me- 
 lancholy ! There is a thrilling awfulness, 
 an intense feeling of simple power in that 
 naked and colorless beauty, which falls 
 on the heart like the thought of death — 
 death pure, and glorious, and smiling, — 
 but still death. Sculpture has always the 
 same effect on my imagination, and paintr 
 ing never. Color is life. — ^We are now 
 at the end of this magnificent avenue, and 
 at the top of a steep eminence command- 
 ing a wide view over four counties — a 
 landscape of snow. A deep lane leads 
 abruptly down the hill; a mere narrow 
 cart-track, sinking between high banks, 
 clothed with fern and fiirze and low broom, 
 crowned with luxuriant hedgerows, and 
 famous for their summer smell of thyme. 
 How lovely these banks are now ! — the tall 
 weeds and the gorse fixed and stiffened in 
 the hoar frost, which fringes round the 
 ^bright prickly holly, the pendant foliage 
 of the bramble, »nd the deep orange leaves 
 of the pollard oaks I Oh, this is rime in 
 its loveliest form ! And there is still a 
 berry here and there on the holly, ' blush- 
 ing in its natural coral' through the delicate 
 tracery ; still a stray hip or haw for the 
 birds, who abound here always. The 
 poor birds, how tame they are, how sadly 
 tame! There is the beautifiil and rare 
 crested wren, ' that shadow of a bird,' as 
 While of Selborne calls it, perched in the 
 middle of the hedge, nestling as it were 
 amongst the cold bare boughs, seeking, 
 poor pretty thing, for the warmth it will 
 not find. And there, farther on, just un- 
 der the bank, by the slender runlet, which 
 still trickles between its transparent fan- 
 tastic margin of thin ice, as if it were a 
 thing of life,-^there, with a swift scudding 
 motion, flits, in short low flights, the gor- 
 geous kingfisher, its magiiificent plumage 
 of scarlet and blue flasning in the sun, 
 like the glories of some tropical bird. He 
 is come for water to this little spring by 
 the hill side, — water which even bis long 
 bill and slender head can hardly reach, so 
 nearly do the fantastic forms of those gar- 
 land-like icy margins meet over the tiny 
 stream beneath. It is rarelv that one sees 
 
 the shy beauty so close or so long; and it 
 is pleasant to see him in the grace and 
 beauty of his natural liberty, the only way 
 to look at a bird. We used, before we 
 lived in a street, to fix a little board out- 
 side the parlour-window, and cover it with 
 bread-crumbs in the hard weather. It was 
 quite delightful to see the pretty things 
 come and feed, to conquer their shyness, 
 and do away their mistrust. First came 
 the more social tribes, 'the robin red- 
 breast and the wren,' cautiously, suspici- 
 ously, picking up a crumb on the wing, 
 with tlie little keen bright eye fixed on the 
 window ; then they would stop for two 
 pecks; then stay till they were satis- 
 fied. The shyer birds, tamed by their ex- 
 ample, came next ; and at last one saucy 
 fellow of a blackbird — a sad glutton, he 
 would clear the board in two minutes — 
 used to tap his yellow bill against the 
 window for more. How we loved the 
 fearless confidence of that fine, frank- 
 hearted creature ! And surely he loved us. 
 I wonder the practice is not more general. 
 — • May ! May ! naughty May 1' She hag 
 frightened away the kingfisher; and now, 
 in her coaxing penitence^ she is covering 
 me with snow. — 
 
 Humiliti/. 
 
 There was a worthy ecclesiastic, of the 
 name of Bernard, who performed the 
 duty of attending the unhappy persons 
 condemned to the hands of the execu- 
 tioner of Paris. 
 
 Father Bernard's just reputation for 
 benevolence and piety reached Cardinal 
 Richelieu, -who sent for him, asked him 
 what he could do for him, told him his 
 exemplary labors entitled him to every at- 
 tention that could be paid to him, and 
 pressed liim to say what he wanted. 
 The good fether answered, " I want, my 
 lord, a better tumbril to conduct my 
 penitents in, to the place of their suffer- 
 ing: that indeed is all I want, and I hope 
 your eminence will gratify me in that re- 
 spect." The Cardinal offered him a rich 
 abbey. He refused it.* 
 
 n. m. 
 
 January 23. — ^Day breaks . 5 41 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 41 
 
 — siets ... 4 19 
 
 Twilight ends .6 19 
 
 The wren sings. 
 
 • Our Village, by Miss Mitford, Vol I, p. 9. 
 
 27, &e. 
 
 * Seward. 
 
Ill 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 25. 
 
 112 
 
 BRUCE CASTLE, NEAR TOTTENHAM. 
 
 This ancient edifice is about five miles 
 from London, by the way of Stoke New- 
 ingtoD, and Stamford Hill. It is in a de- 
 lightful situation, and has lately attained 
 considerable attention in consequence of 
 its being now occupied as a seminary for an 
 improved method of education, upon the 
 plan of the celebrated " Hazlewood 
 School," near Birmingham. 
 
 The castle is said to have been built by 
 earl Waltheof, vfho, in 1069, married 
 Judith, niece to William the Conqueror, 
 who gave him for her portion the eartdoms 
 of Northumberland and Huntingdon.. 
 Their only daughter, Matilda, after the 
 death of her first husband, married Da- 
 vid I., king of Scotland, and, being heiress 
 of Huntingdon, had, in her own right, as 
 appended to that honor, the manor of 
 Tottenham, in Middlesex. Through her 
 these possessions descended to Robert 
 Bruce, grandson of David, earl of Hunt- 
 ingdon, and brother to William III., king 
 of Scotland. Bruce contended for the 
 throne of Scotland with John Baliol, who 
 was the earl's great grandson by his eldest 
 daughter, and who ; ultimately was ad- 
 judged heir to the crown. Upon this 
 adjudication Robert Bruce retired to En- 
 gland, and settling on his grandfather's 
 estate at Tottenham High Cross, repaired 
 the castle, and, acquiring an adjacent 
 manor, named it and the castle Bnace. 
 The above engraving, after another from 
 
 a view taken in 1686, represents one of 
 the four^ towers of the ancient castle. 
 This tower is still standing, together with 
 the house. 
 
 Biuce Castle became forfeited to the* 
 crown, and had different proprietors. In 
 1631 it was in the possession of Hugh 
 Hare, lord Coleraine. Henry Hare, the 
 last lord Coleraine, having been deserted 
 by his wife, left all his estates to a natural 
 daughter, born in Italy, whom he named 
 Henrietta Rosa Peregrine.- This lady 
 married the late Mr. Alderman Townsend, 
 but being an alien she could not take the 
 estates; and, lord Coleraine having legally 
 barred the heirs at law, the fstates escheated 
 to the crown. But a grant, sanctioned by 
 act of Parliament, confirmed the estates 
 to the alderman and his lady, whose son, 
 Henry Hare Townsend, Esq,' afterwards 
 inherited them', ^and resided in Bruce 
 Castle. In 1792 Mr. Townsend sold his 
 estates; and Bruce Castle is how occupied 
 by Mr. Rowland Hill. This gentleman 
 directs the establishment foi education > 
 upon the plan of his father's at Hazle- 
 wood, of which, indeed, this is a branch 
 for the convenience of persons who desire 
 their sons to derive the advantages of the 
 Hazlewood system, and yet be near to the 
 metropolis. The appearance of this spa- 
 cious mansion is somewhat different from 
 the preceding view of it. 
 
 It is not convenient to introduce an ac- 
 
113 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY ^24. 
 
 114 
 
 count of Mr. Hill's methods of education. 
 They are fully developed in a volume of 
 extraordinary interest, entitled " Plans for 
 the Government and liberal Instruction of 
 Boys in large Numbers ; as practised at 
 HazlewoodSchool, London, 1825." In this 
 work the Hazlewood system of education 
 is advantageously detailed, with anecdotes 
 of incidents in the course of its' execution 
 which show its superiority for well ground- 
 ing and quickening the minds of the 
 pupils — teaching them things as well as 
 words, and fitting them for the practical 
 business of life. 
 
 ^anuavt! 24. 
 
 Until 1831, Hilary Term usually began 
 about this day: of St. Hilary, there is an ac- 
 count in the Every-Day Book, i. 98, with 
 another account at p. 154 of the cere- 
 monies observed on the first day of term, 
 which of ancient usage is a gaudy day 
 among the lawyers. 
 
 TEMPLABIA. 
 On the TiDO Fiffures of a Horse and a laimbjOver 
 the Inner Temple Gate. 
 As by the Templar's holds you go. 
 
 The horse and lamb^ displayed 
 In f^mblematic figures, show 
 
 The merits oC their trade. 
 That clieuts may infer, from thence. 
 
 How just is their profession, 
 The lamb sets forth their innocence. 
 
 The horse their expedition. 
 '* O happy Britons ! happy isle I" 
 
 Let foreign nations say, 
 '' Where you get justice without guile. 
 
 And law without delay." 
 ATiswer, 
 Deluded men, these holds forego, 
 
 '^Tor trust such canning elves ; 
 These artful emblems tend to show 
 
 Their clients, not themselves. 
 'Tis all a tricV. : these are but shams. 
 
 By which they mean to cheat ynu ; 
 For have a care, yoti are the lambs. 
 
 And they the wolves that eat you. 
 Nor let the thought of no " delay" 
 
 To these their courts misguide you ; 
 You are the showy horse, and they 
 
 Are jockeys that will ride yon. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Janunry 24. — Day breaks . . 5 40 
 
 Si"j rises ... 7 40 
 
 — sets ... 4 20 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 20 
 
 The blue titmouse, or tomtit, sings. 
 
 The green tltraouse, or ox-eye, sings 
 
 l^anuars 25. 
 
 WINTEK MIGHT CAPS. 
 
 One of the best night caps in use at tha 
 
 University of Oxford is "a Bishop," a 
 
 delicious winter beverage of antiquity 
 beyond the memory of man, and hence 
 not discoverable.. Its name is presumed 
 to have been derived from a custom in 
 old times -oi regaling prelates with spiced 
 wine, when they honored the University 
 with a visit. To sanction its modern use, 
 the erudite editor of "Oxford Night Caps" 
 produces from an " Ancient Fragment," 
 co-eval with his work, the following lines : 
 Three cups of this a prudent man may take ; 
 The first of these for constitution's sake. 
 The second to the lass he loves the best, 
 The third and last to lull him to his rest. 
 
 Upon this authority, in addition to the 
 usage, it may be affirmed that " a bishop" 
 is a comforter — "the last thing" — on 
 going to bed. 
 
 According to ecclesiastical custom, as 
 respects the beginning of a bishop, he 
 must be of necessity a doctor before he 
 can be a bishop : but, in the list of the 
 University beverages which are called 
 " night caps," there is not at this time any 
 liquor called a " doctor :" on which ac- 
 count, and notwithstanding the fair pre- 
 sumption of the fore-cited Oxford editor 
 concerning the origin of the term "bishop" 
 from a usage, yet it seems likely that 
 there was a potation called " a doctor" 
 more ancient ; and, that the members of 
 the University may have so admired the 
 higher dignity, that, of by-gone reason, 
 and in haste, they may have rejected the 
 liquor of degree, and passed at once to 
 the ultimatum ; thereby, and to the present 
 time, ceasing the use, and forgetting the 
 inductive and more ancient beverage 
 called "doctor," the readier thereby to 
 favor themselves with the "bishop." For 
 the ms^nner of making the tipple called 
 "a doctor" is now as utterly unknown in 
 the University as the reason for making a 
 D. D. in boots. Upon which it booteth 
 not to enquire, but rather to think of our 
 " night caps," and, so, at once to compo- 
 sition. 
 
 Biihop. 
 
 Make incisions in the rind of a lemon, 
 stick cloves in the incisions, and roast the 
 lemon by a slow fire.. Put small but 
 equal quantities of cinnamon, cloves, 
 mace, and allspice, and a race of ginger, 
 
115 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK—JANUARY 24. 
 
 11$ 
 
 into a saucepan with half-a-pint of water; 
 let it boil until it is reduced to half. 
 Boil a bottle of port wine, and, by applying 
 a lighted paper to the saucepan, burn a 
 portion of the spirit out of it. Add the 
 roasted lemon and spice unto the wine; 
 stir all well together, and let it stand near 
 the fire ten minutes. Put some knobs on 
 tiie rind of a lemon, put the sugfar into a 
 bowl or jug, with the juice of half a 
 lemon, iiot roasted ; pour the wine upon 
 this mixture, grate nutmeg into it, sweeten 
 all to your taste, and you have a bishop. 
 Serve it up with the lemon and spice 
 floating in it. 
 
 In your Oxford bishop, oranges are not 
 used : but the true London way of making 
 a bishop is to use oranges instead of 
 lemons. And so says " St. Patricks' 
 great dean," — who honored the beverage 
 with his approbation — 
 
 Fine oranges . 
 
 VTcll roasted, with sagar and wine in a cnp. 
 They'll make a sweet bishop which gentlefolks 
 
 sup. 
 
 No man knew better how to make 
 " a bishop " than the father of Mr. Mat- 
 thews the comedian. He was predecessor 
 of Mr. Samuel Leigh, the publisher, in 
 the Strand, and at the trade-sales of the. 
 booksellers, which are held at taverns, he 
 was accustomed so to make " a bishop," 
 that he was familiarly called by his 
 brethren, " Bishop Matthews." 
 
 Note. — As concerning a saying, of a 
 bishop clerical, that old wives and silly 
 serving girls use ; when they let a pot burn- 
 to, they sometimes cry " the bishop has 
 put his foot in it;" or, again, there is «a 
 bishop in the pan;" which neglect of 
 food " burnt to the pan," and the saying 
 thereon, worthy Thomas Tusser, at' the 
 end of " April's Husbandry," mentions in 
 his " Five Hundred Points,"* by way of 
 -"a lesson for dairy mayd Cisley." 
 
 Bless Cisley (good mistris) 
 
 that bishop doth ban. 
 For burning the milke 
 
 of her cheese to the pan. 
 
 The occasion of this saying seems to 
 have been disclosed three centuries a^o 
 by William Tindale in his " Obedyence 
 of a Crysten Man," printed in 1528 : for 
 he says, "When a thynge speadeth not 
 well, we borowe speach and saye t/ie 
 
 * 1610, 4to. 
 
 byshope hath btessed it, because that 
 nothynge speadeth well that they me^yll 
 wythall. If the podech be burned to, or 
 the meate over rested, we saye, the 
 byshope hath put his fate in the potte, or 
 the byshope huth playd the coke, because 
 the bishopes burn who they lust, and 
 whosoever displeaseth them." On these 
 sayings there are conjectural explanations 
 by " Tusser Red ivivus," by a writer in " The 
 British Apollo," and by captain Grose, 
 in his "Provincial Glossary," but none 
 are to the ppint like Tyndal's certain 
 affirmation, relating to papal bishops, which 
 remained unobserved till produced by 
 Mr. Henry Ellis.* 
 
 But there is enough of this, and now 
 back to our liquor. 
 
 As "night caps" we have a triplet 
 " which owe their origin to some Brazen- 
 nose bacchanalians, and differ only from 
 bishop as the species from the genus." • 
 These, and the manner of making them, 
 follow : — 
 
 Lawn Sleeves. 
 Proceed with the sleeves as with the 
 bishop ; only substituting madeira or 
 sherry for port wine, and adding three 
 glasses of hot calves-feet jelly. 
 
 Cardinal 
 ranks higher than bishop, being made in 
 all respects the same, except that claret i> 
 substituted for port wine. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 Make a bishop with Champagne instead 
 of port, and you have a pope. 
 
 Also, it is to be noted, that our un- 
 learned ancestors sometimes associated 
 more serious misfortunes with the epis- 
 copal designation. The little islands and 
 rocks on the Pembrokeshire coast near 
 St. Davids, which are particularly dan- 
 gerous to shipping, and therefore feared 
 by seamen, are called the " bishop and his 
 clerks ;" and on the coast of Devonshire, 
 between Teignmouth and Dawlish, two 
 small rocks, hollowed by the waves from 
 the main body, and projecting into the 
 sea, are well known to mariners by the 
 name of « the bishop and his clerk." 
 
 Lastly, there is a certain peculiar so- 
 phistication of a dull or bad horse to make 
 
 Brand, ii. 669. 
 
in 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 37. 
 
 118 
 
 hiiff appear lively ; and this, which is a 
 common practice with knavish horse- 
 dealers, is denominated " hislioping." 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 25. — Day breaks . . 5 39 
 
 Sun li&es ... 7 38 
 
 — sets . . . 4 22 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 21 
 
 The yellow hellebore, or winter aconite, 
 
 flowers, if mild weather. 
 
 S^anuarfi 26. 
 
 Frakcis Moore, Thysician. 
 
 On the 26th of January, 1820, died, 
 aged seventy-six, Mr. Henry Andrews, of 
 Ro^ston, at which' pla4:e he carried on the 
 business of a stationer and bookseller; 
 and, during the forty years preceding, 
 manufactured Moore's Almanac for the 
 Stationers' Company. Until his death he 
 was intimate with many men of science, 
 by whom he was much respected. He 
 was well informed in the exact sciences, 
 and his " Vox Stellarum" was as profound 
 in occult science as "Season on the 
 Seasons," and " Poor Robin, the worthy 
 knight of the burnt island," two other al- 
 manacs now extinct. 
 
 The attainments of Mr. Andrews en- 
 abled him to complete various tables for 
 astronomical and scientific purposes in 
 worts of consequence, to which his name 
 was not attached. His prophecies, under 
 the name of " Francis Moore, Physician," 
 were as much laughed at by himself, as 
 by the worshipful company of stationers 
 for whom he annually manufactured thfem, 
 in order to render their almanac saleable 
 among the ignorant, in whose eyes a 
 lucky hit covered a multitude of blunders. 
 He did not live to see the publication of 
 the " British Almanac," which effected 
 thtt downfal of "Poor Robin," whose 
 "Every Robin Went a robbing," annually, 
 until 182B, when that almanac, and others 
 of the same stamp, ceaSed to exist. It is 
 wortiiy trf remark that, in the following 
 year, the predicting columns of Moore's 
 Almanac became more political than pro- 
 phetical, and startled many a country 
 gaffer and gammer With passages similar 
 to this :— " What has been achieved by the 
 fate eipeiisiv^ contest? Why ! at home 
 an enormbus debt, atld oh the continent 
 of Europe the restoration of the ancient 
 government, 'with all their monkish absur- 
 dities, tyranny, and blasting influence — 
 
 standing monuments of disgrace to the 
 age we live in ; and powerful barriers to 
 the principal improvements that can give 
 dignity to man, or raise him to that emi- 
 nence in the sphere of his existence which 
 he was designed to occupy by his great 
 Creator. 
 
 " Whene'er contending princes fight. 
 For private pique or public rights 
 Armies are lais'd, the fleets are Diann'd 
 They combat both by sea and land 3 
 When after many battles pa«t, 
 Doth, tir'd with blows, make peace at last ; 
 What is it after all the people get ? 
 Why taxes, widows, wooden legs, and debt. 
 
 "The best that can be said of some 
 crowned heads is, that they are fruges 
 consumere nati." With these clap-trap 
 sentences "Francis Moore, physician," 
 concluded the prophetic columns of " Vox 
 Stellarum ; or, a l,oyal Almanac for the 
 year of human redemption 1829." It 
 might be imagined that, could the dead 
 hear, Mr. Andrews would smile in his 
 grave on such language being used for 
 the purpose of keeping up the sinking 
 sale of Moore's Almanac. A few years 
 before his death he predicted to the 
 writer of this article that people would 
 soon know better than to buy, or be in- 
 fluenced by, the prophecies which his em- 
 ployers required him to write. Since the 
 appearance of the " British Almanac," the 
 reading of Moore's prophecies has be'sn 
 confined to weak-minded gossips, and the 
 most illiterate of the vulgar. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 26.— Day breaks , . 5 38 
 
 Sun rises ... 7 37 
 
 — sets ... 4 23 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 22 
 
 The white butterbur flowers, if mild 
 
 weather ; but, if cold, a fortu%ht later 
 
 ^anuatfi 27. 
 
 SUPPOSES EARTHQ17AKE. 
 
 On the 27th of January, 1814, the Pub, 
 lie Ledger nad the following paragragh, 
 " A convulsion of the earth, exactly simi- 
 lar in effect and appearance to an earth- 
 quake, was sensibly perceived about ten 
 minutes before eight o'clock, on Thursday 
 night last, at Knill Court, Ilarpton, 
 Norton, and Old Radnor, Radnorshire; 
 at Knir Court the oscillation of the house 
 
119 
 
 iHE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 29. 
 
 ISO 
 
 was plainly perceptiole, and felt by all 
 the family, and that too in several apart- 
 ments, and was accompanied with a pecu- 
 liar rumbling noise. At Harpton, a severe 
 storm of thunder and lightning was expe- 
 rienced the same night, and at the same 
 time." Upon this statement Mr. Luke 
 Howard observes " I do not apprehend 
 that these local tremors of the ground, in 
 the time of thunder storms, are to be class- 
 ed with real earthquakes. 1 have stood 
 at the distance of six or seven miles from 
 the extremity of a most extensive and 
 violent thunder storm, visible from Plais- 
 tow, and have sensibly felt the ground 
 shake under my feet at the time of the 
 nearer discharges, owing, as I conclude, 
 to the circumstance of the electrical action 
 taking place between the clouds and the 
 thick substratum of indurated clay on 
 which the country hereabouts reposes. 
 Such strokes as penetrate but a little below 
 the surface I suppose to excite a lateral 
 tremor proportionally less extensive." 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 27. — Day breaks . . 5 37 
 
 Sun rises ... 7 35 
 
 — sets ... 5 37 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 23 
 
 The white Archangel sometimes 
 
 flowers. 
 
 £)anuats 28. 
 
 After the Frost in " Our Village," the 
 weather breaks and another walk is taken 
 by Miss Mitford, whose short picturesque 
 account under this date comes seasonably, 
 
 January 28th. — We have had rain, and 
 snow, and frost, and rain again ; four days 
 of absolute confinement. Now it is a thaw 
 and a flood ; but our light gravelly soil, 
 and country boots, and country hardihood, 
 will carry us through. What a dripping 
 comfortless day it is !— just like the last days 
 of November; no sun, no sky, grey or 
 blue ; one low, overhanging, dark, dismal 
 cloud, like London smoke. Up the hill 
 again ! Walk we must. Oh what a 
 watery world to lookback upon 1 Thames, 
 Kennet, Loddon — all overflowed; our 
 famous town, inland once, turned into a 
 sort of Venice; C. park converted into an 
 island; and the long range cf meadows 
 from B. to W. one huge unnatural lake, 
 with trees growing out of it. Oh what a 
 watery world !— I will look at it no longer. 
 
 I will walk on. The road is alive again. 
 Noise is reborn. Waggons creak, horses 
 splash, carts rattle, and pattens paddle 
 through the dirt with more than their usual 
 clink. The common has its old fine tints 
 of green and brown, and its old variety of 
 inhabitants, horses, cows, sheep, pigs, and 
 donkeys. The ponds are unfrozen, except 
 where some melancholy piece of melting 
 ice floats sullenly upon the water: and 
 cackling geese and gabbling ducks have 
 replaced the lieutenant and Jack llapley. 
 The avenue is chill and dark, the hedges 
 are dripping, the lanes knee-deep, and all 
 nature is in a state of " dissolution and 
 thaw." 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 muary 28. — Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 35 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 7 34 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 4 26 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 25 
 
 The Hedge Sparrow sings. 
 
 - 
 
 gianuars 29. 
 
 On the 29th of January, 1547, King 
 Henry VIII. died : on the anniversary of 
 that day in 1820 King George III. died. 
 
 COUNTRY CHAKACTEKS.. 
 
 Annexed are pleasant sketches of the 
 manners of the little gentry in the early 
 part of King George III., by a pleasant 
 collector and describer of antiquities. 
 
 The Country Madam. 
 
 When I was a young man, there exist- 
 ed in the families of most unmarried men, 
 or widowers of the rank of gentlemen, 
 residents in the country, a certain anti- 
 quated female, either maiden or widow, 
 commonly an aunt or cousin. Her dress 
 I have now before me ; it consisted of a 
 stiff starched cap and hood, a little hoop, 
 a rich silk damask gown with large flowers. 
 She leant on an ivory-headed crutch-cane, 
 and was followed by a fat phthisicky dog 
 of the pug kind, who commonly reposed 
 on a cushion, and enjoyed the privilege of 
 snarling at the servants, occasionally 
 biting their heels with impunity. 
 
 By the side of this good old lady jingled 
 a bunch of keys, securing, in difiierent 
 closets and corner cup-boards, all sorts of 
 cordial waters, cherry and raspberry 
 brandy, washes for the complexion. Daffy's 
 elixir, a rich seed-cake, a number of pots 
 of currant-jelly and raspberty-jam, with a 
 range of gallipots and phials containing 
 
131 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK^JANUARY 30. 
 
 122 
 
 salves, electuaries, juleps, and purges, for 
 the use nf the poor neighbours. The daily 
 business of this good lady was to .'icold 
 the maids, collect eggs, feed 'the turkeys, 
 and to assist at all lyings-in that happened 
 within the parish. Alas ! this being is no 
 more seen ; and the race is. like that of her 
 pug dog and the black rat, totally extinct. 
 
 The Country Squire. 
 
 Another character, now worn out and 
 gone, was the little independent gentleman, 
 of £300 per annum, who commonly ap- 
 peared in a plain drab or plush coat, 
 ' large silver buttons, a jocky cap, and 
 rarely without boots. His travels never 
 exceeded the distance of the county town, 
 and that only at assize and session time, 
 or to attend an election. Once a week he 
 commonly dined at the next market town 
 with the attornies and justices. This 
 man went to church regularly, read the 
 weekly journal, settled the parochial 
 disputes between the parish officers at the 
 vestry, and afterwards adjourned to the 
 neighbouring ale-house, vrhere he usually 
 got drunk for the good of his country. 
 He never played at cards but at Christmas, 
 when a family pack was produced from 
 tlie mantle-piece. He was commonly 
 followed by a couple of grey-hounds 
 and a pointer, and announced his arrival 
 at a neighbour's house by smacking his 
 whip, or giving the view-halloo. His drink 
 was generally ale, except at Christmas, ih". 
 fffth of November, or some other gala 
 days, when he would make a bowl of 
 strong brandy punch, garnished with a 
 toast and nutmeg. A journey to London 
 was, by one of these men, reckoned as 
 great an - undertaking as is at present a 
 voyage to the East Indies, and undertaken 
 with scarcely less precaution and prepara- 
 tion. 
 
 The mansion of one of these squires 
 was of plaster striped with timber, not 
 unaptly called calamanco work, or of red 
 brick, large casemented bow windo\\rs, a 
 porch witii seats in it, and over it a study ; 
 the eaves of the house well inhabited by 
 swallows, and the court set round with 
 holly-hocks. Near the gate a horse-block 
 for the convenience of mounting. 
 
 The hall was furnished with flitches of 
 bacon, and the mantle -piece with guns 
 and fishing-rods of various dimensions, 
 accompanied by the broad-sword, par- 
 tizan, and dagger, borne by bis ancestors 
 in the civil wars. The vacant spaces 
 were occupied by stags' horns. Against 
 
 the wall were posted King Charles's 
 Golden Rules, Vincent Wing's Almanac, 
 and a portrait of the duke of Marlborough ; 
 in his window lay Baker's Chronicle, 
 Fox's Book of Martyrs, Glanvil on Ap- 
 paritions, Quincey's Dispensatory, the 
 Complete Justice, and a Book of Farriery. 
 
 [n the corner, by the fire-side, stood a 
 large wooden two-armed chair vnjth a 
 cushion ; and within the chimney corner 
 were a couple of seats. Here, at Christ- 
 mas, he entertained his tenants assembled 
 round a glowing fire made of the roots of 
 trees, and other great logs, ^nd told and 
 heard the traditionary tales of the village 
 respecting ghosts and witches, till fear 
 made them afraid to move. In the mean 
 time the jorum of ale was in continual 
 circulation. 
 
 The best parlour, which was never 
 opened but on particular occasions, was 
 furnished with Turk-worked chain, and 
 hung round with portraits of his an- 
 cestors ; the men in the character Of shep- 
 herds, with their crooks, dressed in full 
 suits and huge full-bottomed perukes; 
 others in complete armor or buff coats, 
 playing on the bass viol or lute. The 
 females likewise as shepherdesses, with 
 the lamb and crook, all habited in high 
 heads and flowing robes. 
 
 Alas ! these men and these houses are 
 no more ; the luxury of the times has 
 obliged them to quit the country, and be- 
 come the humble dependents on great 
 men, to solicit a place or commission to 
 live in London, to rack their tenants, and 
 draw their rents before due. The vene- 
 rable mansion, in the mean time, is suf- 
 fered to tumble down, or is partly upheld 
 as a farm-house ; till, after a few years, 
 the estate is conveyed to the steward of 
 the neighbouring lord, or else to some 
 nabob, contractor, or limb of the law.*- 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 29. — Day breaks. . . 5 34 
 
 Sun rises ... 7 32 
 
 — sets . . 4 28 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 26 
 
 The temperature perceptibly milder. 
 
 0anuats 30. 
 
 " This being the anniversary of king 
 Charles's Martyrdom (in 1649), the Royal 
 -Exchange gates were shut till -twelve 
 
 * Grose, 
 
123 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 3.1. 
 
 124 
 
 o'clock, when tliey were opened for public 
 business." Courier, 30 Jan. 1828. 
 
 •Anderson's Scots' Pills. 
 
 Dr. PatrickAnderson, physician to Charles 
 I., was the inventor of this well-known 
 medicine. In the laye-stone "land" of a 
 house in the Lawn-market, opposite to 
 the Sowhead, Edinburgh, it has been sold 
 for 'upwards of a century past. The se- 
 cond flat of this "land" was originally 
 entered by an outside stair, giving access 
 to a shop then kept by Mr. Thomas Weir, 
 heir to Miss Lillias Anderson, the doctor's 
 only daughter. Although the shop has 
 long been given up, the '^jills continue to 
 be sold at this place by Mr. James Main, 
 bookseller, agent for Mrs. Irving, who is 
 sole possessor of the inestimable secret, 
 by inheritance from her husband, the late 
 Dr. Irving, nephew to the above Mr. 
 Weir's daughter. Hence Jhe pills have 
 come through no more than three genera- 
 tions of proprietors since the time of 
 Charles I. "This is to be attributed, 
 doubtless," says Mr. Chambers, " to their 
 virtues, which may have conferred an 
 unusual degree of longevity upon the 
 patentees : in confirmation of which idea, 
 we are given to understand that Mrs, 
 Irving, the present nonagenarian propri- 
 etrix, facetiously assigns the constant use 
 of them as the cause of her advanced and 
 healthy old age. Portraits of Dr. Ander- 
 son and his daughter are preserved in the 
 house. The Physician is represented in 
 a Vandyke dres^ with a book in his 
 hand ; while Miss Lillias, a precise-look- 
 ing dam^ displays between her finger and 
 thumb a pill, nearly as large as a walnutj 
 which says a great deal for the stomachs 
 of our ancestor* "* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 30. — Day breaks . . 5 32 
 
 Sun rises ... 7 30 
 
 — sets ... 4 30 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 28 
 
 If the Veltheimia Capensis has escaped 
 
 the frost, it may be expected to flower. 
 
 ^anusLTvi 31. 
 
 LAW TERMS. 
 
 On this dayHilary Term.ends,<aooordiBg 
 to an act 1 William ,IV. cap. 70, which 
 
 enacts that in the year 1831, and after- 
 wards — 
 
 Rilary Term shall begin on the llth, 
 
 and end on the 31st of January. 
 Easter Term shall begin on the 15th 
 
 of April, and end ou the 8th of May. 
 Trinity Term shall begin on the 22nd 
 
 of May, and end on the 12th of June. 
 Micliaelmas Term shall begin on the 
 
 2nd and end on (he 25th of November. 
 This act therefore provides that the Law 
 Terms shall begin and end on days eer- 
 tain ; that is to say, on the days aboy«- 
 mentioned : except, however, " that if 
 the whole, or any number of the days 
 intervening between the Thursday before, 
 and the Wednesday next after Easter day, 
 shall fall within Easter Term, there shall 
 be no sittings in banco on any tirf' such 
 intervening days, but the Tercn shall, in 
 such case, be prolonged, and continue for 
 such number of days of business as shall 
 be equal to the number of the intervening 
 days before mentioned, exclusive of Easter 
 day ; and the commencement of the en- 
 suing Trinity Term shall, in such case, be 
 postponed, and its continuance be pro- 
 longed for an equal number of days of 
 business." 
 
 Law and Laviyen. 
 
 Lawsuits were formerly as much pro- 
 longed by legal chicanery as now; 'and 
 to involve persons in tliem was a common 
 mode of revenge. In the letters of the 
 Paston Family, and the Berkeley MSS. 
 there is evidence that this practice pre- 
 vailed in the fifteenth century.* 
 Among the Harleian collections, at the 
 British Museum, there is an English MS. 
 written about or before the yeai 1200, 
 containing a satirical ballad on the law- 
 yers, -j- 
 
 • Traditions of Edinburgh, I, 255. 
 
 Montaigne was no friend to the f ro- 
 fdssion. With ample possessions be had 
 no law-suits. *' I am not much pleasad 
 with his opinion," he say«, " who tho^^ght ; 
 by the multitude of laws to curb the 
 authority of judges, by retrenching them. 
 We have more laws in France than in all 
 the rest of the world besides; and more 
 than would be necessary for the regulation 
 of all the worlds of Epicurus. How 
 comes it to pass that our common lan- 
 
 * Fosbroke's Eney. of Anuq. 
 f Wavton's Hist. English Poetry, i. 38. 
 
ijv. 
 
 THE YEAH DOOK. JANUARY 29. 
 
 126 
 
 guage, so easy for all other uses, becomes 
 obscure and unintelligible in wills and 
 contracts; and that he who so clearly 
 expresses whatever he speaks or writes, 
 cannot, in these, find any way of declaring 
 himself, which is not liable to doubt and 
 contradiction, if it be not that the great 
 men of this art (of law), applying them-' 
 seves with peculiar attention to cull out 
 hard words, and form artful clauses, have 
 so weighed every syllable, and so tho- 
 roughly sifted every sort of connexion, 
 that they are now confounded and entan- 
 gled in the infinity of figures, and so many 
 minute divisions, that they can no longer 
 be liable to any nile or prescription, nor 
 any certain inteligeiice. As the earth is 
 made fertile the deeper it is ploughed and 
 harrowed, so they, by starting and splitting 
 of questions, make the world iructify and 
 abound in uncertainties and disputes, 
 and hence, as formerly we were plagued 
 with vices, we are now sick of the laws. 
 Nature always gives better than those 
 which we make ourselves; witness the 
 state wherein we see nations live that have 
 no other. Some there are who, for their 
 only judge, take the first passer-by that 
 travels along their mountains to determine 
 their cause; and others who, on their 
 market-day, choose out some one amongst 
 them who decides all their controversies 
 on the spot. What danger would there 
 be if the wiser should thus determine 
 outs, according to occurrences, and by 
 sight, without obligation of example and 
 consequence ? Every slioe to its own 
 foot." 
 
 The French have it among their old 
 sayings, that " a good lawyer is a bad 
 neighbour," and Montaigne seems to 
 have entertained the notion. He tells 
 what he calls "A pltasant story aguinst 
 the practice of lawyers. — ^The baron of 
 Conpene in Chatosse, and I, have between 
 us the advowson of a benefice of great 
 extent, at the foot of our mountains, 
 called Lahontan, It was with the inha- 
 bitants of this angle, as with those of 
 the vale of Angrougne ; they livd a 
 peculiar sort of life, had particular fas- 
 hions, clothes, and manners, and were 
 ruled and governed by certain particular 
 laws and usages received from father to 
 son, to whidh they submitted without 
 other constraint than the reverence due to 
 custom. This little state had continued 
 from all antiquity in «o happy a condition 
 that BO nei^bouring judge was ever put 
 1» the trouble ■>{ enqoiiing into their 
 
 quarrels, no advocate was retained to give 
 them counsel, nor stranger ever called in 
 to compose their differences ; nor was 
 ever any of them so reduced as to go a 
 begging. They avoided all alliances and 
 traffic with the rest of mankind, that they 
 might not corrupt the purity of their own 
 government; till, as they say, one of 
 them, in the memory of their fathers, 
 having a mind spurred on with a noble 
 ambition, contrived, in order to bring his 
 name into credit and reputation, to make 
 one of his sons something more than 
 ordinary, and, having put him to learn to 
 write, made him at last a brave attorney 
 for the village. This fellow began to 
 disdain their ancient customs, and to buzz 
 into the people's ears the pomp of the 
 other parts of the nation. The first prank 
 he played was to advise a friend of his, 
 whom somebody had ofiended by sawing 
 off the horns of one of his she-goats, to 
 make his complaint to the king's j udges, — 
 and so he went on in this practise till 
 he spoiled all." 
 
 In 1376 the House of Commons or- 
 dered that " no man of the law" should 
 be returned as knight of the shire, and, if 
 returned, that he should have no wages. § 
 
 In 1381, Jack Cade's men beheaded all 
 the lawyers they could find, and burnt 
 the Temple and other inns of court, with 
 the records of Chancery, and the hooks 
 and papers belonging to the students at 
 law. a 
 
 In 1454 by an act of parliament, recit- 
 ing that there had formerly 1)een only six 
 or eight attomies for Suffolk, Norfolk, and 
 Norwich together, that the number had 
 then increased to more than eighty, most 
 part of whom incited the people to suits 
 for small trespasses, it was enacted that 
 thereafter there should be but six for 
 Suffolk, six for Norfolk, and two for the 
 city of Norwich.* There are now above 
 seventy attomies in Ntjrwidli alone. 
 
 In 1553, the first year of the reign of 
 queen Mary, during Sir Thomas Wyatt's 
 progress towards London with an army, 
 in behalf of the claim of Lady Jade Grey 
 to the throne, so great was the terror ot 
 the Serjeants at law, and other lawyers, 
 that at Westminster-hall "they pleaded 
 in harness."t 
 
 * Andrew.s's Hist. 6. Brit. i. 388. 
 t Noorthouck's Hist. London, 17. 
 
 ^ Andrews, ii. Hist. 149. 
 4 Baker's Chronicle, 1665, p. 339. 
 
127 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. JANUARY 31. 
 
 nn 
 
 Harness. 
 
 Armour Vfas formerly called haiuess, 
 which is in low Dutch " harnass,'' in 
 French " arnois," in Spanish " arn^s."J; 
 Tlius, Shakspeare says, 
 
 Ring the alarum-bell ; blow wind ! come 
 
 wrack ! 
 At least we'll die with harness on our back. 
 Macbeth. 
 
 Although in strictness, and according to 
 ancient usage, the Christinas holidays, and 
 with Twelfth-day, they are seldom over 
 until the close of the month. 
 
 In "A Fireside Book,"' there is a lively 
 description of " Christmas at old Court," 
 the seat of a country gentleman, with spe- 
 cimens of old stories, and story telling. 
 It is a handsome little volume, full of 
 amenity and kind feeling, with snatches of 
 gentle poetry, of which the following is a 
 specimen, which may well conclude this 
 merry-making month. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS SONG. 
 
 Come, help me to raise 
 
 Loud songs to the praise 
 Of good old English pleasures : 
 
 To the Christmas cheer. 
 
 And the foaming beer^ 
 And the buttery's solid treasures ; — 
 
 To the stout sirloin. 
 
 And the rich spiced wine. 
 And the boar's head grimly staring ; 
 
 To the frumenty. 
 
 And the hot mince pie. 
 Which all folks were for sharing ; — 
 
 To the holly and bay. 
 
 In their green array. 
 Spread over the walls and dishes; 
 
 To the swinging sup 
 
 Of the wassail cup. 
 With its toasted healths and wishes ; — . 
 
 To the honest bliss 
 
 Of the hearty kiss. 
 Where the mistletoe was swinging ; 
 
 When the berry white 
 
 Was claimed by right. 
 On the pale green branches clinging j — 
 
 When the warm blush came 
 
 From a guiltless shame. 
 And the lips, so bold in stealing. 
 
 Had never broke 
 
 The vows they spoke. 
 Of truth and manly feeling ;• — 
 
 Minshen. 
 
 To the story told 
 
 By the gossip old. 
 O'er the embers dimly glowing, 
 
 ttfhile the pattering sleet 
 
 On the casement beat> 
 And the blast was hoarsely blowing ;— 
 
 To to the tuneful wait 
 
 At the mansion gate. 
 Or the glad, sweet voices blending. 
 
 When the carol rose. 
 
 At the midnight's close. 
 To the sleeper's ear ascending ; — 
 
 To all pleasant way^. 
 
 In those ancient days. 
 When the good folks knew their station ; 
 
 When God was fear'd. 
 
 And the king revered. 
 By the hearts of a grateful natioil ; — 
 
 When a father's will 
 
 Was sacred still. 
 As a law, by his children heeded ; 
 
 And none could brook 
 
 The mild sweet look. 
 When a mother gently pleaded ;— 
 
 When the jest profane 
 
 Of the light and vain 
 With a smile was never greeted ; 
 
 And each smooth pretence. 
 
 By plain good sense. 
 With its true desert was treated. 
 
 VARIA. 
 
 The desire of power in excess 
 
 caused angels to fall ; the desire of know- 
 ledge in excess, caused man to fall; but 
 in charity is no excess, neither can man 
 nor angels come into danger by it. — 
 Bacon. 
 
 Good sense is as different from 
 
 genius, as perception is from invention ; 
 yet, though distinct qualities, they fre- 
 quently subsist together. It is altogether 
 opposite to wit, but by no means incon- 
 sistent with it. It is not science, for there 
 is such a thing as unlettered good sense ; 
 yet, though it is neither wit, learning, nor 
 genius, it is a substitute for each, where 
 they do not exist, and the perfection of 
 all where they do. — H. More. 
 
 Never go to bed with cold feet, or 
 
 a cold heart. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 January 31. — Day breaks . . 5 31 
 
 Sun rises ... T 29 
 
 — sets . . . 4 31 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 29 
 
 The days now lengthen very perceptibly. 
 
129 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— FEBRUARY. 
 
 130 
 
 FEBRUARY. 
 
 The milkmaid singing leaves her bed, 
 
 As glad as happy thoughts can be ; 
 While magpies chatter o'er her head, 
 
 As jocund in the change as she : 
 Her cows around the closes stray, 
 
 Nor ling'ring wait the foddering boy. 
 Tossing the mole-hills in their play, 
 
 And staring round with frolic joy. 
 
 Clare's Shepherd's Calendar, 
 
 In Februarv the sun attains considerable 
 power, and finally dis{)els the cold of 
 winter. Thaws dissipate frost and ice ; 
 the atmosphere teems with humid vapours ; 
 
 Vol. r.— 5. 
 
 rains descend, and frequently continue 
 during successive days; brooks become 
 torrents, and rivers overflow their banks 
 and sheet the plains. 
 
HI 
 
 TH£ YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY. 
 
 ISJ 
 
 Now shifting gales with milder in6uence blow, 
 
 Cloud o'er the skies, and melt the falling snow ; 
 
 The soften'd earth with fertile moisture teems. 
 
 And, freed from icy bonds, ,down rush the swelling streams. 
 
 Table of the Monthly Averages of Rain. 
 
 MONTHS. 
 
 FROM TO 
 
 FROM TO 
 
 FROM TO 
 
 
 1797—1806 
 
 1807—1816 
 
 1797—1816 
 
 January 
 
 2-011 
 
 1-907 
 
 1-959 in. 
 
 February 
 
 1-320 
 
 1-643 
 
 1-482 
 
 March 
 
 1-057 
 
 1-542 
 
 1-299 
 
 April 
 
 1-666 
 
 1-719 
 
 1-692 
 
 May 
 
 1-608 
 
 2036 
 
 1-822 
 
 June 
 
 1-876 
 
 1-964 
 
 1-920 
 
 July 
 
 2-683 
 
 2-592 
 
 2-637 
 
 August 
 
 2-117 
 
 2-134 
 
 2-125 
 
 September 
 
 2-199 
 
 1-644 
 
 1-921 
 
 October 
 
 2-173 
 
 2-872 
 
 2-522 
 
 November 
 
 3-360 
 
 2637 
 
 2-998 
 
 December 
 Totals . . . 
 
 2-365 
 
 2-489 
 
 2-427 
 
 24-435 
 
 25-179 
 
 24-804 
 
 TuE Spirit of Snow. 
 
 [for the Year Book.] 
 
 By the mist clouds of fog that creep over the sun. 
 By the twinkles of stars that ethereally run. 
 By the »irge of the welkin that roars from the 
 
 pole. 
 And the deep ho:'ow murmurs of winter that 
 
 roll, 
 I've the moonshine to guide me, the frost to 
 
 restrain. 
 As I journey through space, to reach heaven 
 
 again. 
 
 I'm the Spirit of snow, and my compass is 
 
 wide ; 
 I can fall in the storm, in the wind I can ride • 
 I am white, I am pure, I am tender, I'm fair^ 
 I was bom in the seas, to the seas I repair ■ 
 By frost I am harden'd, by wet I'm destroy'd 
 And, united with liquid, to Ocean decoy'd. 
 
 1 have sisters of ether, have brothers of rime. 
 And my friendships are formed in the nortberlv 
 
 clime. 
 My foes are the elements jarring with strife ■ 
 Air lets me pass on to my.earth-bosomed wife' ■ 
 Fire covets and melts me ; but water 's so kind' 
 That, when lost to the three, to the fourth I'm 
 
 rengn d. 
 
 I have cousins of icicles, children of sleet ; 
 Some battle with hail, others vanquish in heat; 
 I'm the Spirit of snow. By the will of the 
 
 blast. 
 In the shallows and depths I am drifted at 
 
 last; 
 And a glance of the sun, while I brighten in 
 
 tears. 
 Dissolves my pretensions to reign in the spheres. 
 
 J. R. Prior. 
 
 Dr. Forster arranges the year info six 
 principal seasons or divisions, to one of 
 which may be referred almost all the wild, 
 and most of the hardy herbaceous plants 
 of our climate. 
 
 This arrangement into six, instead of 
 four seasons, seems to correspond better 
 with the actual course of phenomena. 
 
 The first, or Primaveral season, mav be 
 considered as beginning at Candlemas, 
 on the first opening of the early spring 
 flowers. 
 
 The second, or Vernal season, begins 
 about old Ladytide. 
 
 The Solstitial season begins about St. 
 Barnabas. 
 
 The Aestival season begins about St. 
 Swithin's. 
 
 The Autumnal season begins about 
 Michaelmas. 
 
03 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY. 
 
 ]?d, 
 
 The Brumal season begins about the 
 Conception. 
 
 It is to be observed, however, that 
 many plants said to belong to one season, 
 from first flowering in it plentifully, yet 
 continue to blow, or remain in flower, 
 through the greater part of the next season; 
 as the primrose, which opens in the pri- 
 maveral, and continues in flower through 
 great part of the vernal season. The 
 china aster, blowing in the aestival, lasts 
 all through the autumnal, and abides till, 
 in the beginning of the brumal season, it 
 is cut off" by frost j and some plants 
 show flowers more or less all the year. 
 These, however, have generally one time 
 of the fullest flowering or efflorescence, 
 and from the period of this first full 
 blowing their proper season is determined. 
 The dandelion, for instance, is seen in 
 flower during all times except the end of 
 the brumal season; nevertheless its efflo- 
 rescence takes place about the 11th of 
 April, and it gilds the meadows during 
 the early part of the vernal period, till i* 
 is gradually succeeded by the crowfoots 
 and buttercups. Habits of observation 
 will soon reconcile the attentive naturalist 
 to this division, and will enable him to 
 refer each plant to its proper season. 
 
 The Primaveral season begins about 
 Candlemas. The increasing day becomes 
 .sensibly longer, and the lighter evenings 
 begin to be remarked by the absence of 
 candles till nearly six o'clock. The wea- 
 ther is generally milder, and the exception 
 to this rule, or a frosty Candlemas day, is 
 found so generally to be indicative of a 
 cold primaveral period, that it has given 
 rise to several proverbs. We have heard 
 from infancy the adage,- 
 
 If Candlemas day be fair and bright. 
 Winter will have another flight. 
 
 According to different journals, examined 
 by Dr. Forster, this is generally correct. 
 
 About this time the first signs of the 
 early spring appear in the flowering of 
 the snowdrops; they rise above ground, 
 and generally begin to flower by Candle- 
 mas. The yellow hellebore accompanies, 
 and even anticipates the snowdrop, and 
 lasts longer, mixing agreeably its bright 
 sulphur with the deep orange yellow of 
 (.be spring crocus, which on an average 
 blows about February 5th, and continues 
 throughout March, fading away before 
 Ladytide. 
 
 The three earliest sorts of crocuses are 
 the yellow garden, of a deep orange yel- 
 
 low ; the cloth of gold, of a golden yellow, 
 with chocolate stripes; and the Scotch, 
 or white striped. The blue, the red, ar.d 
 the white hepatica, or noble livervioils, 
 flower, and brave the cold and changing 
 weather. All these, disposed in clumps, 
 alternating with snowdrops, crocuses, and 
 hellebores, give to a well-conducted gar- 
 den a very brilliant aspect : 
 
 Crocuses like drops of gold 
 Studded on the deep brown mould. 
 Snowdrops fair like Sakes of snov/. 
 And bright liverworts now blow.* 
 
 Alimentary Calendak. 
 
 Lent, which usually commences in 
 February, occasions an increased and 
 abundant supply of fish'. The standing 
 dish for all fast days is salt fish, commonly 
 barrelled cod, . with parsnips and egg 
 sauce ; but epicures mortify on princely 
 turbot plainly boiled, or stewed with wine, 
 gravy, and capers ; or on a dish of soles, 
 haddock, or skate. Poultry is by no 
 means totally excluded : a capon, a duck- 
 ling, or even a pigeon-pye, is now 
 regarded as an innocent transition from 
 legitimate lent diet, and some indulge 
 with roast beef, in direct violation of 
 ecclesiastical ordinances. Codlings and 
 herrings are in season, and continue until 
 the end of May ; peacocks, pea-hens, and 
 guinea-fowls until July. The vegetables 
 of February, besides the never-failing 
 potato, are coleworts, cabbages, savoys, 
 cress, lettuce, chard, beet, celery, endive, 
 chervil; with forced radishes, cucumbers, 
 kidney-beans, and asparagus. Green 
 geese are admissible until the end of 
 May, and ducklings to the end of April ; 
 both then come into season, and are con- 
 sequently too vulgar to appear at fashion- 
 able tables. 
 
 Vegetable Garden Directory. 
 
 In fair and open weather, during ihe 
 month of February, 
 
 Sow 
 
 Beans; the mazagan, long-pod, and 
 Windsor, about the second and fourth 
 week. 
 
 Radish ; short-topped, and salmon, 
 twice or thrice. 
 
 Cabbage; early York, ham, or sagalr- 
 loaf, to succeed the main crops ; also, a 
 
 • Dr. Foroter's Ency. Nat. Phenomena, 
 F2 
 
135 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 1. 
 
 13d 
 
 little red cabbage ; all about the last week. 
 
 Spinach; once or twice. 
 
 Mustard and cress, for sallad; every 
 week. 
 
 Plant 
 
 Rooted offsets, or slips of mint, balm, 
 sage, rue, rosemary, &c. 
 
 Traniqilant 
 
 Cabbage from the nursery-beds, for the 
 main spring, and early summer crops; do 
 this work when the ground is not wet and 
 cloddy, but works freely. 
 
 Attend to neatness every where, and 
 destroy vermin.* 
 
 God Almighty first planted a garden ; 
 and, indeed, it is the purest of human 
 pleasures ; it is the greatest refreshment 
 to the spirit! of man, without which 
 buildings and palaces are but gross han- 
 dyworks. Bacon. 
 
 ^ttvuavp 1. 
 
 On observing a Blossom on the 
 First op Febroary. 
 
 Sweet flower ! that peeping from thy nisset 
 
 stem 
 Unfoldest timidly, (for ia strange sort 
 This dark, fiieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chat- 
 tering month 
 Hath borrowed Zephyr's voice, and gazed upon 
 
 thee 
 With blue voluptuous eye) alas poor flower ! 
 These are but flatteries of the faithless year. 
 Perchance, escaped its unknown polar cave. 
 E'en now the keen north-east is on its way. 
 Flower that must perish ! shall I liken thee 
 To some sweet girl of too, too rapid growth. 
 Nipped by consumption mid untimeiy charms ? 
 Or to Bristowa's bard, the wond'rous boy ! 
 An amaranth, which earth scarce seemed to 
 
 own. 
 Till disappointment come, and pelting wrong 
 Beat it to earth 1 or with indignant grief 
 Shall I compare thee to poor Poland's hope. 
 Bright flower of hope killed in the opening 
 
 bud? 
 Farewell, sweet blossom ! better fate be thine 
 And mock my boding ! Dim similitudes 
 Weaving in moral strains, I've stolen one 
 
 hour 
 From anxious self, life's cruel tasktmaster ! 
 And the warm wooings of this sunny day 
 Tremble along my frame, and harmonize 
 
 • Domestic Gardener's Manual. 
 
 The attempered organ, that even saddest 
 
 thoughts 
 Mix with some sweet sensations, like harsh 
 
 tunes 
 Played deftly on a soft-toned instrument. 
 
 Coleridge.* 
 
 Song Birds. 
 
 The singing of birds before the springing 
 of flowers, and the bursting of buds, comes 
 like the music of a sweet baud before a 
 procession of loveliness. In our youth 
 we were delighted with the voices, and 
 forms, and plumage of these little crea- 
 tures. One of the first desires of a child 
 is for a bird. To catch a songster is a 
 school-boy's great achievement. To have 
 one in a cage, to tend upon it, change its 
 water, give it fresh seeds, hang chickweed 
 and groundsel, and thrust sugar between 
 the wires, chirp, and encourage it to sing, 
 are a little girl s chief delight. 
 
 In this month the birds flock in, fast 
 heralding the spring. Young readers will 
 like to know about them, and at convenient 
 Limes their curiosity shall be indulged. 
 
 The Robin. 
 
 This beautiful and popular little bird — 
 the red-breast — ^has a sweet melodious 
 song, so free and shrill, that few can 
 equal him. 
 
 In *,he winter, when food is scarce 
 abroad, he comes to the door, enters the 
 house with confidence, and, in hope of 
 relief, becomes sociable and familiar. 
 During the summer, when there is plenty 
 abroad, and he is not pinched with cold, 
 he often withdraws to solitary places, and 
 loves to feed singly upon worms, ants 
 and their eggs, and insects : yet many 
 breed and nestle about farm-yards and 
 out-houSes, and pick crumbs thrown frsm 
 the table, all the year round. 
 
 The male robin may be known by the 
 red upon his breast being deeper than the 
 female's, and going up farther upon the 
 head ; some say his legs are darker than 
 the female's, and that he has a few gen- 
 tlemanly hairs on each side of his bill. 
 He is of a darker olive color upon flie 
 
 • Extracted from " The Poetical Works of 
 S. T. Coleridge, including the dramas of 
 Wallenstein, Remorse, and Zapolya," col- 
 lected and elegantly printed in 3 vols, pub- 
 lished by Pickering. 
 
137 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 1. 
 
 138 
 
 upper surface of his whole body, and the 
 superior brightness of his red breast is a 
 sure token. 
 
 The robin is about six inches long ; the 
 tail two and a half, and the bill a little 
 more than half an inch. 
 
 Breeding time is about the end of 
 April, or beginning of May. The female 
 builds in a barn or out-house ; some- 
 times in a bank or hedge; and likewise 
 in the woods. Her nest is of coarse ma- 
 terials ; the outside of dry green moss," 
 intermixed with coarse wool, small sticks, 
 straws, dried leaves, peelings from young 
 trees, and other dried stuff; with a few 
 horse-hairs withinside : its hollow is 
 small, scarcely an inch in depth, and 
 about three wide: the complete nest 
 weighs about eleven drams. She usually 
 lays five or six eggs ; sometimes not more 
 than four, but never fewer; they ar« of a 
 cream color, sprinkled all over with fine 
 reddish-yellow spots, which at the large 
 erul are so thick, that they appear almost 
 all in one. 
 
 Hatching generally takes place about 
 the beginning of May. Young ones for 
 caging are taken at ten or twelve days old ; 
 if they are left longer, they are apt to 
 mope. They should be kept warm in a 
 little basket, with hay at the bottom, and 
 fed with the wood- lark's meat, or as young 
 nightingales are reared. Their meat 
 should be minced very small, and given 
 but little at a time. When they are 
 grown strong enough for the cage, it 
 should be like the nightingale's or wood- 
 lark's, but rather closer wired, and with 
 moss at the bottom. lu all respects they 
 Ate to be kept and ordered like the night- 
 ingale. When old enough to feed them- 
 selves, they may be tried with the wood- 
 lark's meat, which some robins like better 
 than the nightingale's. 
 
 The robin is very subject to cramp and 
 giddiness ; for cramp give them a meal- 
 worm now and then ; for the giddiness 
 , six. or seven earwigs in a week. They 
 greedily eat many kinds of insects which 
 probably might be effectually given to re- 
 lieve sickness, could they be conveniently 
 procured, such as young smooth cater- 
 pillars ; but a robin will not touch a 
 hairy one ; also ants, and some sorts of 
 spiders ; but no insect is more innocent, 
 or agrees better with birds in general, 
 than the meal-worm. The earwig is not, 
 perhaps, so good. Yet the best way to 
 prevent diseases in the robin is to keep 
 him clean and warm, to let him always 
 
 have plenty of fresh water, wholesome 
 food, and sometimes a little saffron or 
 liquorice in his water, which will cheer 
 him, make him long winded, and help 
 him in his song. 
 
 Old robins, when caught and confined 
 in a cage, regret the loss of liberty, fre- 
 quently will not sing, and die from con- 
 finement. A young robin usually sings 
 in a few d^ys. One reared from the nest 
 may be taught to pipe and whistle finely, 
 but his natural song is more delightful, 
 and, while in his native freedom, most de- 
 lightful.* 
 
 February. 
 
 The snow has left the cottage top ; 
 
 The tbatch-mos3 grows in brighter green ; 
 And eaves in quick succession drop. 
 
 Where grinning icicles have been ; 
 Pit-patting with a pleasant noise 
 
 In tubs set by the cottage door ; 
 While ducks and geese, with happy joys. 
 
 Plunge in the yard-pond, brimming o'er. 
 
 The sun peeps through the window-pane ; 
 
 Which children mark with laughing eye : 
 And in the wet street steal again. 
 
 To tell each other Spring is nigh ; 
 Then> as young hope the past recals. 
 
 In playing groups they often draw. 
 To build beside the sunny walls 
 
 Their spring-time huts of sticks or straw. 
 
 And oft in pleasure's dreams they hie 
 
 Round homesteads by the village side 
 Scratching the hedgerow mosses by. 
 
 Where painted pooty shells abide ; 
 Mistaking oft the ivy spray 
 
 For leaves that come with budding Spring, 
 And wond'iing, in their search for play. 
 
 Why birds delay to build and sing. 
 
 The mavis thrush with wild delight. 
 Upon the orchard's dripping tree. 
 
 Mutters, to see the day so bright. 
 Fragments of young Hope's poesy ; 
 
 And oft Dame stops her buzzing Wheel 
 To hear the robin's note once more. 
 
 Who tootles while he pecks his meal 
 
 From sweet-briar hips beside the door. 
 
 Clare's Shepherd't Calendar. 
 
 h, m. 
 
 February 1. Day breaks . . 5 30 
 
 Sun rises ... 7 27 
 
 sets . . . 4 33 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 30 
 The snow-drop, called the fair maid of 
 February, appears. 
 
 * Albin. 
 
139 
 
 THE YEAK BOOK.— FEBRUARY 2. 
 
 140 
 
 4Fe6iuarp 2. 
 
 Candlemas Day. 
 
 This day is so called, because in the 
 papal church a mass was celebrated, and 
 candles were consecrated, for the church 
 processions. 
 
 To denote the custom and the day, a 
 hand holding a torch was marked on the 
 old Danish calendars.* 
 
 Candlemas in Scotland. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 At every school in the South of Scot- 
 land, the boys and girls look forward with 
 as great anxiety for Candlemas Day as 
 the children of merry England for their 
 Christmas holidays. It is an entire day 
 of relaxation, play, and festivity. On 
 the evening preceding Candlemas Day, 
 the school-master gives notice that to- 
 morrow is their annual festival. The 
 formal announcement is received 'with 
 joy, and they hasten home to their fathers 
 for their donations to the schoolmaster, 
 called " Candlemas bleeze," that all may 
 be ready on the morrow. On the morrow 
 all is anxious bustle and conjecture. 
 Who is to be king ? Who is to be queen ? 
 It is the only day in the year in which 
 they hurry to school with earger pleasure. 
 The master receives the " Candlemas 
 bleeze" from each pupil with condescend- 
 ing and familiar kindness. Some bring 
 sixpence, some a shilling, and others 
 more, according to the circumstances of 
 their parents. With the "bleeze" the 
 master purchases a few bottles of whiskey, 
 which is converted into punch, and this, 
 with a quantity of biscuits, is for the en- 
 tertainment of his youthful guests. The 
 surplus of cash, after defraying all ex- 
 penses, he retains as a present to himself. 
 This, therefore, being in lieu of a " Christ- 
 mass box," may be termed a " Candle- 
 mas box." The boy that brings the most 
 " bleeze" is crowned king ; and, on the 
 same ground, the girl with the largest 
 portion of " bleeze " is crowned queen, as 
 distinctions of the highest honor for the 
 most liberal gifts. To those illustrious 
 personages the other youths in the school 
 pay homage for the remainder of the fes- 
 tival . 
 
 The king and queen are installed by 
 each being introduced to the other by the 
 
 * Fosbioke's Brilish Monachism, 60. 
 
 schoolmaster ; and they acknowledge the 
 honor with a fond salute : both then re- 
 ceive a glass of punch, and pledge their 
 worthy master. They next drink " long 
 life and happy days to their loyal sub- 
 jects," and are afterwards placed on an 
 elevated seat, previously prepared, and 
 called the throne. After the enthrone- 
 ment, the schoolmaster gives each scholar 
 a glass of punch and a biscuit, ond they 
 all drink " long life, and a prosperous and 
 happy reign to their most gracious so- 
 vereigns," at the same time making 
 obeisance with their best bows. As long 
 as the whiskey holds out, these testimo- 
 nials of loyalty and attachment are re- 
 peated. The young ones get full of mirth 
 and glee, and, after receiving their master's 
 thanks for their kindness, they are finally 
 dismissed with merry hearts, to relate 
 their adventures at home. 
 
 It is a custom with many old country 
 people in Scotland to prognosticate the 
 weather of the coming season according 
 to this master prognosti9atidn : — 
 
 If Can'Iemas is fair and clear 
 There'll be twa winters in the year. 
 
 On the truth of this distich they have 
 no doubt. Should Candlemas day pass 
 over without a shower of rain, or a fall of 
 snow, their spirits droop : they conclude 
 upon severe weather before spring is 
 over, and they reckon upon heavy snow 
 storms before the following Christmas; 
 — if such is the case, ruin is inevitable ! 
 On the contrary, if Candlemas day is 
 showery and tempestuous, they antici- 
 pate a fine summer, genial suns in 
 autumn, and plenty of refreshment for 
 man and beast. I have seen a farmer of 
 the "Old School," rubbing his hands 
 with glee during the dismal battling of 
 the elements without, while the wind' en- 
 tered within through the crevices of the 
 doors and casements of the latticed win- 
 dow, and his little children at the loud 
 blasts that roared round the roof, ran for 
 protection between the knees of their 
 father, or hid their face in the lap of their 
 mother. When the young ones were put 
 to bed, the two old folks would set on 
 the side of the Ingle Neuk, talking "o'th' 
 days o"- langsine," when they were bairns 
 themselves, and confirming each other's 
 belief in the old prognostication. Any 
 one acquainted with the habits of the 
 Scotch shepherds and peasantry will au- 
 'henticate these facts as to Candlemas day. 
 
 F. B 
 
141 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 2, 
 
 142 
 
 Blessing Candles at Rome. 
 
 This was seen by Laily Morgan in 
 1820. The ceremony takes place in 
 the beautiful chapel of the Quirinal, 
 -where the pope himself officiates, and 
 blesses, and distributes with his own 
 hands, a candle to every person in the 
 body of the church; each going indi- 
 vidually and kneeling at the throne to re- 
 ceive it. The ceremony commences with 
 the cardinals; then follow the bishops, 
 prelati, canons, priors, abbots, priests, 
 &c., down to the sacristans and meanest 
 officers of the church. When the last of 
 these has gotten his candle, the poor con- 
 servatori, the representatives of the Roman 
 senate and people, receive theirs. This 
 ceremony over, the candles are lighted, 
 the pope is mounted in his chaii and 
 carried in procession, with hymns chant- 
 ing, round the antichapel; the throne is 
 stripped of its splendid hangings; the 
 pope and cardinals take off their gold 
 and crimson dresses, put on their ordinary 
 robes, and the usual mass of the morning 
 is sung. The blessing of the candles 
 takes place in all the parish churches.* 
 
 Symbols of the Hermetic Science. 
 
 On the porticoes of the church of Notre 
 Dame, at Paris, there are sculptured cer- 
 tain figures, which the adepts have 
 deemed hieroglyphical of their art. 
 
 Golineau de Montluisant, a gentleman 
 of the Pays de Chartres, an amateur of 
 the hermetic science, explains these figures 
 m the following manner. The Almighty 
 Father, stretching out his arms, and 
 holding an angel in each of his hands, 
 represents the Creator, who derives from 
 nothing the sulphur, and the mercury of 
 life represented by the two angels. On 
 the left side of one of the three doors are 
 four human figures of natural size; the 
 first has under his feet a flying dragon, 
 biting its own tail. This dragon repre- 
 sents the philosopher's stone, composed 
 of two substances, the fixed and the vola- 
 tile. The throat of the dragon denotes 
 the " fixed salt," which devours the " vo- 
 latile," of which the slippery tale of the 
 animal is a symbol. The second figure 
 treads upon a lion, whose head is turned 
 towards heaven. This lion is nothingbut 
 the "spirit of salt," which has a tendency 
 to return to its sphere. The third has 
 
 under his feet a dog and a bitch, who are 
 biting each other furiously, which signify 
 the contention of the humid and the dry, 
 in which the operation of the " magnum 
 opus" almost entirely consists. The fourth 
 figure is laughing at all around him, and 
 thus represents those ignorant sophists 
 who scoff at the hermetic science. 
 
 Below these large figures is that of a 
 bishop, in an attitude of contemplation, 
 representing William of Paris, a learned 
 adept. On one of the pillars which separate 
 the several doors is another bishop, 
 who is thrusting his crosier into the 
 throat of a dragon. The monster seems 
 making an effort to get out of a bath, 
 in which is the head of a king with a 
 triple crown. This bishop represents the 
 philosophical alchymist, and his crosier 
 the hermetic art. The mercurial substance 
 is denoted by the dragon escaping from 
 his bath, as the sublimated mercury 
 escapes from its vase. The crowned head 
 is sulphur, composed of three substances, 
 namely, the ethereal spirit, the nitrous 
 salt, and the alkali. 
 
 Near one of the doors, on the right, are 
 the five wise virgins holding out a cup, in 
 which they receive something poured from 
 above by a hand that comes out of a cloud. 
 These represent the true philosophical 
 chemists, the friends of nature, who re- 
 ceive from heaven the ingredients proper 
 for making gold. On tht left are five 
 foolish virgins, holding their cup turned 
 down towards the ground. These are 
 symbols of the innumerable multitude of 
 ignorant pretenders. 
 
 There are many other figures, which 
 our adept makes use of, in order to 
 explain all the secrets of alchymy. But 
 those who examine this portal with other 
 eyes find nothing in the figures relating 
 to the philosopher's stone. The person 
 treading under his feet a dragon is the 
 conqueror of Satan. The other figures 
 represent David, Solomon, Melchisedec, 
 the Sibyls, &c. A large statue of stone, 
 which formerly was situated at the entrance 
 of the Parvis Notre Dame, and which was 
 taken for a statue of Mercury, was pro 
 bably the principal cause of the first 
 explanation. But, however that may have 
 been, it is certain that students and re- 
 puted adepts in the science of transmuta- 
 tion and the pabulum of life have regarded 
 these sculptures as hieroglyphics of the 
 great mystery.* 
 
 Lady Morgan's Italy. 
 
 History of Pari*, i. 8. 
 
143 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— FEBRUARY 2. 
 
 144 
 
 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY'S CHAIR. 
 
 This is the representation of an old 
 finely carved oak chair in the possession 
 of a gentleman to whom it was presented 
 by the possessor of Penshurst, the vene- 
 rable seat of the Sidney family, in tht 
 county of Kent. The height of the chair 
 is three feet eleven inches ; its width one 
 foot ten inches. From tradition at Pens- 
 hurst, it was the chair of Sir Philip 
 Sidney — " the delight and admiration of 
 the age of < Elizabeth" — in which he cus- 
 tomarily sat, and perhaps wrote "the best 
 pastoral romance, and one of the most 
 popular books of its age," the celebrated 
 " Arcadia;" a work so much read and ad- 
 mired by the ladies at court, in the reign 
 of the " virgin queen," thi<t it passed 
 through fourteen editions, and laid Shak- 
 speare under obligations to it for his 
 play of " Pericles." This name, it is con- 
 tended, Shakspeare derived from " Py- 
 rocles," the hero of the " Arcadia." Many 
 
 incidents in the play and the romance are 
 the same ; — " that Shakspeare long pre- 
 served his attachment to the Arcadia 
 is evident from his ' King Lear ;' where 
 the episode of Gloster and his sons is 
 plainly copied from the first edition of 
 the Arcadia." 
 
 By admirers, then, of the character of 
 Sir Philip Sidney, who " was the orna- 
 ment of the university,'' and "was also 
 the ornament of the court ;" who " ap- 
 peared with equal advantage in a field of 
 battle or in a tournament ; in a private 
 conversation among his friends, or in a 
 public character as an ambassador ;" the 
 print of his chair will be looked on with 
 interest. 
 
 The chair of Shakspeare, the illustrious 
 contemporary of Sidney and the admirer of 
 the " Arcadia," is alleged to have passed 
 into foreign exile from_ his house at Strat- 
 
i^ 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 3. 
 
 ford, [n the corner of the kitchen where it 
 stood, ithad for many years received nearly 
 as many adorers as the shrine of the Lady 
 of Loretto. In July 1 790, princess Czarto- 
 ryska, made a journey to Stratford in order 
 to obtain intelligence relative to Shak- 
 speare ; and, being told he had often sat 
 io this chair, she placed herself in it, and 
 expressed an ardent wish to become its 
 purchaser ; but, being informed that it 
 was not to be sold at any price, she quitted 
 the place with regret, and left a handsome 
 gratuity to old Mrs. Hart, a descendant 
 from Shakspeare, and the possessor of his 
 house. About four months after, the 
 anxiety of the princess could no longer be 
 withheld, and her secretary was de- 
 spatched express, as the fit agent, to pur- 
 chase this treasure at any rate : the sum 
 of twenty guineas was the price fixed on, 
 and the secretary and chair, with a proper 
 certificate of its authenticity on stamped 
 paper, set oflf in a chaise for London.* 
 
 Sidney's chair is no longer at Penshurst ; 
 but its possessor, a scholar and a gentle- 
 man, prizes it beyond money-estimation 
 as a dignified relic of antiquity. As an 
 early work of art it is a very curious spe- 
 cimen of ancient taste. 
 
 Sir Philip Sidney was born at Penshurst, 
 November 29, 1554. His great produc- 
 tion, the " Arcadia," combines the high- 
 toned spirit of gallantry, heroism, and 
 courtesy, of the ancient chivalric romance, 
 with the utmost purity in morals, and all 
 the traditionary simplicity and innocence 
 of rural life. His " Defence of Poesie," 
 — a surprising and masterly production, 
 for the age in -which it was written, — is 
 an evidence of his critical knowledge ; and 
 his poetical pieces testify his elegant taste, 
 and capability for greater works in the 
 " divine art." He died at thirty-two years 
 of age, on the 17th of October, 1586, in 
 consequence of a wound he received in a 
 desperate engagement near Zutphen, upon 
 which occasion he manifested a noble 
 sympathy towards ahumble fellow-sufferer 
 in the conflict. As Sidney was returning 
 from the field of battle, pale, languid, and 
 thirsty with excess of bleeding, he asked 
 for water. It was brought, and had ap- 
 proached his lips, when he instantly 
 resigned it to a dying soldier, whose 
 ghastly countenance attracted his notice, 
 
 * Dr. Drake's Shakspeare and his Times. 
 
 146 
 
 speaking these ever memoraUe words- 
 ": This man's necessity is still greater than 
 mine." * 
 
 Would I had fall'n upon those happier days, 
 That poets celebrate j those golden times. 
 And those Arcadian scenes, that Maro sings. 
 And Sidney, -warbler of poetic prose. 
 Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had 
 
 hearts. 
 That felt their virtues ; innocence, it seems, 
 From courts dismissed, found shelter in the 
 
 groves ; 
 The footsteps of simplicity impress'd 
 Upon the yielding herbage (so they sing). 
 Then were not effac'd : then speech profane* 
 And manners profligate, were rarely found • 
 Observ'd as prodigies, and soon reclaim'd. 
 Coteper, 
 
 h. m. 
 
 February 2. Day breaks . . 5 29 
 
 Sun rises ... 7 25 
 
 — sets ... 4 35 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 31 
 
 Hyacinth, narcissi, and Van Thol tulips 
 
 flower in the house. 
 
 Shkovetide. 
 
 The time of keeping Shrovetide, Lent, 
 Whitsuntide, and certain days connected 
 with these periods, is governed by the day 
 on which Easter may fall; and as, ac- 
 cording to the rule stated on March 22, 
 Easter may fall upon that day, so Shrove 
 Tuesday, being always the seventh Tuesday 
 before Easter, may fall on the 3rd of Fe- 
 bruary. To many explanations and ac- 
 counts concerning Shrovetide in the 
 Every-Day Book, the following parti- 
 culars are additions : — 
 
 In Mr. Brand's " Observations on Po- 
 pular Antiquities," he cites and says to 
 this purport : — 
 
 The luxury and intemperance that 
 usually prevailed at this season were 
 vestiges of the Romish carnival, which 
 Mo resin derives from the times of gen- 
 tilism, and introduces Aubanus as saying 
 " Men eat and drink and abandon them- 
 selves to every kind of sportive foolery, 
 as if resolved to have their fill of plea- 
 sure before -they were to die, and, as it 
 were, forego every sort of delight." 
 Selden corroborates this view of the sub- 
 ject by saying, " What the church debars 
 
 * Dr. Drake's Shakspeare and his Times. 
 
147 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUAHY 3; 
 
 148 
 
 us one day she gives us leave to take out 
 another — first there is a Carnival and then 
 a Lent. — So likevf ise our eating of fritters, 
 whipping of tops, roasting of herrings, 
 jack-of-lents, &c., they are all in imitation 
 of church works, emblems of martyrdom." 
 At Eton school it was the custom on 
 Shrove Monday, for the scholars to write 
 verses either in praise or dispraise of 
 Father Bacchus : poets being considered 
 as immediately under his protection. He 
 was therefore sung on this occasion in all 
 kinds of metres, and the verses of the 
 boys of the seventh and sixth, and of 
 some of the fifth forms, were affixed to 
 the inner doors of the College. Verses 
 are still written and put up on this day, 
 but the young poets are no longer confined 
 to the god of wine. Still, however, the 
 custom retains the name of" the Bacchus." 
 
 The Saturday preceaingSnrove Tuesday 
 is called in the Oxford almanacs, the 
 " Egg Feast." 
 
 In the collection of poems published 
 under the title of the Oxford Sausage, 
 there is one which contains allusion to 
 Shrove Tuesday; being short, and con- 
 taining references to customs at other 
 seasons, and the Year Hook finding favor 
 with the gentlemen of the University to 
 whom the piece may be agreeable, it is 
 annexed. 
 
 On Ben Tyrrell's Pies. 
 
 Let Christmas boast her customary rreat, 
 A mixture strange of suet, currants, meat. 
 Where various tastes combine, the greasy and 
 
 the sweet. 
 Let glad Shrove Tuesday bring the pancake 
 
 thin. 
 Or fritter rich, with apples stored within : 
 On Easter Sunday be the pudding seen. 
 To which the tausey lends her sober green . 
 And when great London hails her annual Lord, 
 Let quiv'ring custard crown the aldermanic 
 
 board. 
 But Ben prepares a more delicious mess. 
 Substantial fare, a breakfast for Queen Bess . 
 What dainty epicure, or greedy glutton. 
 Would not prefer his pie, that's made of 
 mutton ? 
 Kacb different country boasts a diff'rent taste. 
 And owes its fame to pudding and to paste : 
 Squab pie in Cornwall only can they make ; 
 In Norfolk dumplings, and in Salop cake ; 
 But Oxford now from all shall bear the prize, 
 Fam d, as for sausages, for mutton pies. 
 
 "Ben Tyrrell;" H '"'S*'' have been pre- 
 mised, was a respectable cook in the High 
 street, Oxford, who formed a laudable 
 design of obliging the University with 
 mutton pies twice a week, and advertised 
 his gratifying purpose in the Oxford 
 Journal, Nov. 2», 1758. 
 
 " Vox Graculi," a curious quarto tract, 
 printed in 1623, says of this season, — 
 " Here must enter that wadling, stradling, 
 carnifex of all Christendorae, vulgarly 
 enstiled Shrove Tuesday, but, more per- 
 tinently, sole monarch of the mouth, high 
 steward to the stomach, prime peerc of 
 the pullets, first favourite to the frying- 
 pans, greatest bashaw to the batter-bowl es, 
 protector of the pancakes, first founder of 
 the fritters, baron of bacon-flitch, earle 
 of the egg-baskets, &c. This corpu- 
 lent commander of those choUericke things 
 called cookes will show himself to be but 
 of ignoble education : for, by his manners 
 you may find him belter fed than taught, 
 wherever he comes." 
 
 To eat pancakes and fritters on Shrove 
 Tuesday is a custom from time immemo 
 rial, and the great bell which used to be 
 rung on Shrove Tuesday, to call the people 
 together for the purpose of confessing theii 
 sins, was called pancake-bell, a name 
 which it still retains in some places where 
 this custom is still kept up. 
 
 Shakspeare, through the clown in "All's 
 well that ends well," alludes to the pan- 
 cake custom. — " As fit — as Tib's rush for 
 Tim's forefinger ; as a pancake for Shrove 
 Tuesday, a morris for May-day." 
 
 Of the pancake-bell, Taylor, the water- 
 poet, in his works, 1630, has a curious 
 account. " Shrove Tuesday, at whose 
 entrance in the morning all the whole 
 kingdom is inquiet ; but by that time the 
 elocke strikes eleven, which (by the help 
 of a knavish sexton) is commonly before 
 nine, then there is a bell rung, cal'd the 
 pancake bell, the sound whereof makes 
 thousands of people distracted, and for- 
 getful either of manners or humanitie; 
 then there is a thing called wheaten floure, 
 which the cookes do mingle with water, 
 egges, spice, and other tragical, magicall 
 inchantments ; and then they put it, by 
 little and little, into a frying-pan of boiling 
 suet, where it makes a confused dismall 
 hissing (like the Lernean snakes in the 
 reeds of Acheron, Stix, or Phlegeton,) 
 
U9 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 3. 
 
 150 
 
 iintill at last, by the skill of the cooke, it 
 is transformed into the forme of a flip-jack 
 cal'd a pancake, which ominous incanta- 
 tion the ignorant people doe devoure very 
 greedily." 
 
 Respecting an attempt to prevent the 
 ringing of the pancake-bellj at York, there 
 is a remarkabie passage in a quarto tract, 
 entitled " A Vindication of the Letter out 
 of the North, concerning Bishop Lake's 
 declaration of his dying in the belief o( 
 the doctrine of passive obedience, &c., 
 1690." The writer says, « They have for 
 a long time, at York, had a custom (which 
 now <;luill£nges the priviledge of a pre 
 scription) that all theapfprentices, journey- 
 men, and other servants- of the town, had 
 the liberty to go into the cathedral, and 
 ring the pancake-bell (as we call it in the 
 country) on Shrove Tuesday; and, that 
 being a time that a great many came out 
 of the country to see the city (if not their 
 friends) and church, to oblige the ordinary 
 people, the minster used to be left open 
 that day, to let them go up to see the 
 lantern and bells, which were sure to be 
 pretty well exercised, and was thought a 
 more innocent divertisement than being 
 at the alehouse. But Dr. Lake, when he 
 came first to reside there, was very much 
 scandalized at this ciistom, and was re- 
 solved he would break it at first dash, 
 although all his brethren of the clergy 
 did dissuade him from it. ^ He was 
 resolved to make the experiment, for 
 which he had like to have paid very dear, 
 for rie assure you it was very near costing 
 him his life. However, he did make such 
 a combustion and mutiny, that, I dare 
 say, York never remembered nor saw the 
 like, as many yet living can testify." 
 
 The London apprentices, upon Shrove 
 Tuesday, according to Dekkers " Seven 
 Deadly Sinnes, 1606," were accustoined 
 to keep holiday, take the law into their 
 own hands, and do. as they pleased. 
 
 In Pennant's Tour in Wales, he says, 
 in former days the youth of Chester exer- 
 cised themselves in running, archery, 
 leaping, wrestling, mock-fights, gallant 
 and romantic triumphs, and other manly 
 sports, at the " Rood Eye," a place with- 
 out the walls of the city ; and that in the 
 sports there on Shrove Tuesday, 1578, a 
 standard was the prize, and won by sheriff 
 Monlford. 
 
 It appears from " The Westmorland 
 Dialect, by A. Walker, 1790," that cOck- 
 
 fighting and " casting" of pancakes were 
 then common in that county, thus : 
 " Whaar ther wor tae be cock-feightiq, 
 for it war pankeak Tuesday :" and, " We 
 met sum lads an lasses gangin to kest their 
 pankeaks." 
 
 A writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, 
 so late as 1790, says, " Most places in 
 England have eggs and coUops (slices of 
 bacon) on Shrove Monday, pancakes on 
 Tuesday, and fritters on the Wednesday, 
 in the same week, for dinner." 
 
 Shrove Monday, or the Monday before 
 Shrove Tuesday, was called CoUop Mon- 
 
 The barbarous usage of throwing at 
 cocks, tied to a stake, was anciently a com- 
 mon custom on Shrove Tuesday. A 
 learned foreigner says, " the English eat a 
 certain cake on Shrove Tuesday, upon 
 which they immediately run mad, and 
 kill their poor cocks." 
 
 A royal household account, possessed 
 byCravea Ord, esq., contains the following 
 entry : — 
 
 " March 2. 7th Hen. VII. Item, to 
 Master Bray for rewards to them that 
 brought cokkes at Shrovetide, at West- 
 minster, xxs." 
 
 The manuscript life of Thomas Lord 
 Berkeley, speaking of his recreations and 
 delights, tells the reader, " hee also would 
 to the threshing of the X!Ocke, pucke with 
 hens blindfolde, and the like." This 
 Lord was born A. D. 1352, and died in 
 1417. 
 
 In the time of king Henry VIII. this 
 cruel diversion was practised at court. 
 
 Mr. Strutt has engraved, on the thirty- 
 eighth plate of his " Sports and Pastimes 
 of the People of England," a drawing 
 from the margin of the " Roman d'Alex- 
 andre," in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, 
 representing two boys carrying a third on 
 a stick thrust between his legs, who holds 
 a cock in his hands. They are followed 
 by another boy, with a flag or standard, 
 emblazoned with a cudgel. They had 
 evidently been throwing at the cock. Mr. 
 Strutt mistakenly dates this MS. 1433, 
 which Mr. Brand rectifies to 1 343, placing 
 it ninety years earlier. The engraving 
 here spoken of is on p. 394 of " Strutt's 
 Sporte," recently published in octavo.* 
 
 * Edited by William Hone ; published by 
 T. Tegg. 
 
151 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 3. 
 
 15J 
 
 Throwing at cocks on Shrove Tuesday 
 was a parochial custom. In the hamlet 
 of Pinner, at Harrow on the Hill, it was 
 a public celebration, as appears by an 
 account of receipts and expenditures ; 
 and the money collected at this sport was 
 applied in aid of the poor rates. 
 
 " 1622. Received for cocks at 
 
 Shrovetide 12s. Od. 
 
 1628. Received for cocks in 
 
 towne 19s.lOd. 
 
 Out of towne . . . Os. 6d." 
 
 Hogarth satirized this barbarity in the 
 first of his prints called the "Four Stages 
 of Cruelty." Dr. Trusler says of this 
 engraving, " We have several groupes of 
 boys at their different barbarous diversions; 
 one is throwing at a. cock, the universal 
 Shrovetide amusement, beating the harm- 
 less feathered animal to jelly." 
 
 Mr. Brand, in 1791, says "The custom 
 of throwing at cocks on Shrove Tuesday 
 is still retained at Heston in Middlesex, 
 in a field near the church. Constables 
 have been often directed to attend on the 
 occasion, in order to put a stop to so 
 barbarous a custom, but hitherto they 
 have attended in vain. I gathered the 
 following particulars from a person who 
 regretted that in his younger years he had 
 often been a partaker of the sport. The 
 owner of the cock trains his bird for some 
 time before Shrove Tuesday, and throws 
 a stick at him himself, in order to prepare 
 him for the fatal day, by accustoming him 
 to watch the threatened danger, and, by 
 springing aside, avoid the fatal blow. 
 He holds the poor victim on the spot 
 marked out, by a cord fixed to his leg, at 
 the distance of nine or ten yards, so as to 
 be out of the way of the stick himself. 
 Another spot is marked at the distance of 
 twenty-two yards, for the person who 
 throws to stand upon. He has three 
 ' shys,' or throws, for two-pence, and 
 wins the cock if he can knock him down, 
 and run up and catch him before the bird 
 recovers his legs. The inhuman pastime 
 does not end with the cock's life ; for when 
 killed it is put into a hat, and won a second 
 time by the persop who can strike it out. 
 Broom-sticks are generally used to ' shy' 
 with. The cock, if well trained, eludes 
 the blows of his cruel persecutors for a 
 long time, and thereby clears to his master 
 a considerable sum of money. But I fear 
 lest, by describing the mode of throwing at 
 cocks, I should deserve the censure of 
 Boerhaave on another occasion : ' To 
 
 teach the arts of cruelty is equivalent to 
 committing them ' " 
 
 At Bromfield, in Cumberland, there was 
 a remarkable usage at Shrovetide, thus 
 related by Mr. Hutchinson m his history 
 of that county : 
 
 " Till within the last twency or thirty 
 years, it has been a custom, time out of 
 mind, for the scholars of the free-school 
 of Bromfield, about the beginning of Lent, 
 or in the more expressive phraseology of 
 the country, at Fasting's Even, to ' bar 
 out' the master ; i. e. to depose and ex- 
 clude him from his school, and keep him 
 out for three days. During the period of 
 this expulsion, the doors of the citadel, 
 the school, were strongly barricadoed 
 within : and the boys, who defended it 
 like a besieged city, were armed; in general, 
 with 'bore tree,' or elder, pop-guns. The 
 master, meanwhile, made various efforts, 
 both by force and stratagem, to regain his 
 lost authority. If he succeeded, heavy 
 tasks were imposed, and the business of 
 the school was resumed and submitted to ; 
 but it more commonly happened that he 
 was repulsed and defeated. After three 
 days' siege, terms of capitulation were 
 proposed by the master, and accepted by 
 the boys. These terms were summed up 
 in an old formula of Latin Leonine verses, 
 stipulating what hours and times should, 
 for the year ensuing, bs allotted to study, 
 and what to relaxation and play. Securi- 
 ties were provided by each side, for the 
 due performance of these stipulations ; 
 and the paper was then solemnly signed 
 both by master and scholars. 
 
 " One of the articles always stipulated 
 for, and granted, was the privilege of 
 immediately celebrating certain games of 
 long standing; viz., a foot-ball match, 
 and a cock-fight. Captains, as they were 
 called, were then chosen to manage and 
 preside over these games : one from that 
 part of the parish which lay to the west- 
 ward of the school; the other from the 
 east. Cocks and foot-ball players were 
 sought for with great diligence. The 
 party whose cocks won the most battles 
 was victorious in the cock-pit; and the 
 prize, a small silver bell, suspended to the, 
 button of the victor's hat, and worn for 
 three successive Sundays; After the cook- 
 fight was ended, the foot-ball was thrown 
 down in the church-yard, and the point 
 then to be contested was, which party 
 could carry it to the house of his respective 
 
153 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY ». 
 
 1S4 
 
 captain ; to Du-ndraw, perhaps, oi Wesl- 
 Niewton, a distance of two or three miles : 
 every inch of which ground was keenly 
 disputed. All the honor accruing to the 
 conqueror at foot-ball was that of possess- 
 ing the ball. Details of these matches 
 were the general topics of conversation 
 among the villager*, and were dwelt on 
 with hardly less satisfaction than their 
 ancestors enjoyed in relating their feats in 
 the border wars. 
 
 "Our Bromfield Sports were sometimes 
 celebrated in indigenous songs : one verse 
 only of one of them we happen to re- 
 member : 
 
 ' At Scales, great Tom Barwise gat the ba' 
 in his hand. 
 
 And t' wives aw ran out, and shouted, and 
 bann'd 
 
 Tom Cowan then pulch'd and flang him 
 'mang t' whins. 
 
 And he bledder'd, Od-white-te, ton's brok- 
 en my sh'iis'. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 February 3. Day breaks . . S 27 
 
 Sun rises ... 7 23 
 
 sets ... 4 37 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 33 
 Common yellow, and cloth of gold cro- 
 cuses flower in the house. 
 
 Ash Wednesday. 
 
 This is the next day after Shrove Tues- 
 day. It is in some places called " Pulver 
 Wednesday," that is " Dies pulveris." 
 
 Ash Wednesday is the first day of the 
 great forty days fast called Lent, which is 
 strictly observed in the Romish church ; 
 although, it appears from bishop Hall's 
 " Triumphs of Rome," the Romish casuists 
 say " that beggars, which are ready to 
 affamish for want, may in Lent time eat 
 what they can get." 
 
 The Romish " Festyvall" enjoins, that 
 " Ye shall begyn your faste upon Ashe 
 Wednesdaye. That daye must ye come 
 to holy chirche and take ashes of the 
 Preestes hondes, and thynke on the wordes 
 well that he sayeth over your hedes, 
 'Memento, homo, quia cinis es; et in 
 cinerem reverteris ;' have mynde, thou 
 man, of ashes thou art comen, and to ashes 
 thou shalte toume agayne." 
 
 An original proclamation, black letter, 
 dated 26th Feb. 30 Henry VIII. (1540), 
 ordains, as respects the' church of England, 
 
 then separated from Rome, " On Ashe 
 Wednesday it shall be declared that 
 these ashes be gyven, to put every Chris- 
 tian man in remembraunce of penaunce 
 at the beginning of Lent, and that he is 
 but erthe and ashes." It appears, also, 
 seven years afterwards, from Stow's An- 
 nals, by Howe (sub anno 1547-8), that on 
 " Ash Wednesday, the use of giving ashes 
 in the church was also left, throughout the 
 whole citie of Londor." 
 
 To fteep a true Lent. 
 
 Is this a fast, to keep > 
 
 . The larder leane. 
 And cleane. 
 From fat of veales and sheep 1 
 
 Is it to quit the dish 
 Of fiesh, yet stlU 
 To fill 
 The platter high with fish I 
 
 Is it to faste an houre. 
 Or rag'd to go. 
 Or show 
 A downcast look and sowre 1 
 
 No ; 'tis a fast to dole 
 Thy sheaf of wheat. 
 And meat. 
 Unto the hungry soule. 
 
 It is to fast from strife. 
 From old debate. 
 And hate. 
 To circumcise thy life. 
 
 To show a heart grief-rent 
 To starve thy sin. 
 Not bin ; 
 And that's to keep thy Lent. 
 
 Herrick. 
 
 Aubanus mentions that " There is a 
 strange custom used in many places of 
 Germany upon Ash Wednesday; for then 
 the young youth get all the maides toge- 
 ther, which have practised dauncing all 
 the year before, and carrying them in a 
 carte or tumbrell (which they draw them- 
 selves instead of ho^es), and a minstrell 
 standing a top of it playing all the way, 
 they draw them into some lake or river 
 and there wash them well favouredly."* 
 
 
 
 fa. m. 
 
 February 4. 
 
 Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 26 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 7 22 
 
 
 — sets .' . 
 
 . 4 38 
 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 34 
 
 Great jonquil, and daffodils blow in the 
 
 house. 
 
 
 
 * Brand. 
 
155 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 5. 
 
 15 
 
 jF^jbtuavs 5. 
 
 1816. Februarys. Died at Richmond 
 in Surrey, Richard Viscount Fitzwilliam, 
 of Ireland. This nobleman left to the 
 University of Cambridge (his Alma Ma- 
 ter) his splendid library, pictures, draw- 
 ings, and engravings, together with 
 £60,000, for the erection of a museum for 
 their reception and exhibition. In this 
 valuable collection there are more than 
 10,000 proof prints by the first artists; a 
 very extensive library of rare and costly 
 works, among which are nearly 300 Ro- 
 man missals finely illuminated. There is 
 also a very scarce and curious collection 
 of the best ancient music, containing the 
 original Virginal book of queen Eliza- 
 beth, and many of the works of Handel, 
 in the hand writing of that great master,* 
 
 Mr. Novello, the composer and organist, 
 has recently gratified the musical world 
 with a publication, sanctioned by the 
 University, of some of the most valuable 
 xaanuscript pieces in the "Fitzwilliam 
 collection of music." On this important 
 work Mr. Novello intensely and anxiously 
 laboured at Cambridge, and bestowed 
 great expense, in order to render it worthy 
 of the esteem it has acquiredamong profes- 
 sors and eminent amateurs of the science. 
 
 On the 5lh of February, 1751, were 
 interred, at Stevenage, in Hertfordshire, 
 the coffin and remains of a farmer of that 
 place, who had died on the 1st of Febru- 
 ary 1721, seventy years before, and be- 
 queathed his estate, worth £400 a-year, 
 to his two brothers, and, if they should 
 die, to his nephew, to be enjoyed by them 
 for thirty years, at the expiration of which 
 time he expected to return to life, when 
 the estate was to. return to him. He pro- 
 vided for his re-appearance, by ordering 
 his coffin to be affixed on a beam in his 
 barn, locked, and the key enclosed, that 
 lie might let himself out. He was allowed 
 four days' grace beyond the time limited, 
 and not presenting himself, was then 
 honoured with christian burial.f 
 
 Remarkable Narrative. - 
 A more wonderful account than that 
 concerning' Elizabeth Woodcock,! ^^ sub- 
 joined upon indisputable authority. 
 
 * Butler's Chronological ExerciscSk 
 
 t Gents. Mag. 
 
 } Related in the Every Day Book, ii, 175. 
 
 On the i9th of March, 1755, a small 
 cluster of houses at a place called Berge- 
 motetto, near Demonte, in the upper valley 
 of Stura, was entirely overwhelmed by 
 two vast bodies of snow that tumbled 
 down from a neighbouring mountain. All 
 the inhabitants were then within doors, 
 except one Joseph Rochia, and his son, a 
 lad of fifteen, who were on the roof of 
 their house, clearing away the snow which 
 had fallen during three days, incessantly. 
 A priest going by to mass, having just 
 before observed a body of snow tumbling 
 from the mountain towards them, had 
 advised them to come down. The man 
 descended with great precipitation, and 
 lied with his son; but scarcely had he 
 gone forty steps, before his son, who fol- 
 lowed him, fell down : on which, looking 
 back, he saw his own and his neighbours' 
 houses, in which were twenty-two persons 
 in all, covered with a high mountain of 
 snow. He lifted up his son, and refleetitig 
 that his wife, his sister, two children, and 
 all his effects were thus buried, he fainted 
 away; but, soon recovering, got safe to 
 his friend's house at some distance. 
 
 Five days afterwards, Joseph, being 
 perfectly recovered, got upon the snow 
 with his son, and two of his wife's brothers 
 to try if he could find the exact place 
 where his house stood ; but, after many 
 openings made in the snow, they could 
 not discovet it. The month of April 
 proving hot, and the snow beginning to 
 soften, he again used his utmost endea- 
 vours to recover his effects, and to bury, 
 as he thought, the remains of his family. 
 He made new openings, and threw in 
 earth to melt the snow, which on the 
 24th of April was greatly diminished. 
 He broke through ice six English feet 
 thick with iron bars, thrust down a long 
 pole, and touched the ground; but, evening 
 coming on, he desisted. 
 
 His wife's brother, who lived at De- 
 monte, dreamed that night that his sister 
 was still alive, and begged him to help 
 her : the man, affected by his drean', rose 
 early in the morning, and went to Ber- 
 gemotetto, where Joseph was ; and, after 
 resting himself a little, went with him to 
 work. Upon opening the snow which 
 covered the house, they in vain searched 
 for the bodies in its ruins; they then 
 sought for the stable, which was about 
 240 English feet distant, and, to their 
 astonishment, heard a cry of " help, my 
 brother" They laboured with all dili- 
 gence till they made a large opening, 
 
157 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 5. 
 
 158 
 
 through which the brother, who had the 
 dream, immediately went down, where 
 the sister, with an agonizing and feeble 
 voice, told him, " I have always trusted 
 in God and you, that you would not for- 
 sake me." The other brother and the 
 husband then went down, and found, 
 still alive, the wife, about forty-five, the 
 sister, about thirty-five, and a daughter 
 about thirteen years old. These they 
 raised on their shoulders, to men above, 
 who pulled them up, as if from the grave, 
 and carried them to a neighbouring house ; 
 they were unable to walk, and so wasted 
 that they appeared like mere skeletons. 
 They were immediately put to bed, and 
 gruel of rye-flower and a little butter was 
 given to recover them. Some days after- 
 wards the intendant went to see them, 
 and found the wife still unable to rise 
 from her bed, or use her feet, from the 
 intense cold she had endured, and the 
 uneasy posture she had been in. The 
 sister, whose legs had been bathed with 
 hot wine, could walk with some difficulty. 
 The daughter needed no further remedies. 
 On the intendant's interrogating the 
 women, they told him that on the 19th of 
 March they were in the stable with a boy 
 of six years old, and a girl of about thir- 
 teen. In the same stable were six goatsj 
 one of which, having brought forth two 
 dead kids the night before, they went to 
 carry her a small vessel of rye-flower 
 gruel. There were also an ass and five 
 or six fowls ; they were sheltering them- 
 selves in a warm corner of the stable till 
 the church-bells should ring, intending to 
 attend the service, but the wife going out 
 of the stable to kindle a fire in the house 
 for her husband, who was cleaning the 
 snow away from the top of- it, she per- 
 ceived an avalanche breaking down 
 towards the east, upon which she ran 
 buck into the stable, shut the door, told 
 her sister of it, and, in less than three 
 minutes the mass descended, and they 
 heard the roof break over their heads, and 
 also part of the ceiling. They got into 
 the rack and manger. The manger was 
 under the main prop of the stable, and 
 resisted the weight of the snow above. 
 Their first care was to know what they 
 liad to eat : the sister said she had fifteen 
 chesnuts in her pocket: the children said 
 they had breakfasted, and should want no 
 more that day. They remembered that 
 there were thirty or forty cakes in a place 
 near the stable, and endeavoured to get at 
 them, but were not ablfe to penetrate the 
 snow. They called often for help, but 
 
 received no answer. The sister gave two 
 chesnuts to the wife, and ate two herself, 
 and they drank some snow-water. The 
 ass was restless, and the goat kept bleating- 
 for some days, after which they heard no 
 more of thera. Two of the goats being 
 left alive, and near the manger, they ex- 
 pected to have young about the middle of 
 April ; the other gave milk, and with this 
 they preserved their lives. During all 
 this time they saw not one ray of light ; 
 yet for about twenty days they had some 
 notice of Bight and day from the crowing 
 of the fowls, till they died. 
 
 The second day, when very hungry, 
 they ate all the chestnuts, and drank what 
 milk the goat yielded, being very nearly 
 two pounds a day at first, but it soon 
 decreased. The third day they attempted 
 again, but in vain, to get at the cakes. 
 They resolved to take all possible care to 
 feed the goats ; but just above the manger 
 was a hay-loft, whence, through a hole, 
 the sister pulled down hay into the rack, 
 and gave it to the goat, as long as she 
 could reach it ; and then, when it was 
 }]eyond her reach, the goats cliuibed upoi 
 her shoulder, and reached it themselves. 
 On the sixth day tlie boy sickened, and 
 six days after desired his mother, who all 
 this time had held him in her lap, to lay 
 him at his length in the manger ; she did 
 so, and, taking him by the hand, felt it 
 was cold ; she then put her hand to his 
 mouth, and, finding that cold likewise, she 
 gave him a little milk; the boy then cried 
 " O, my father is in the snow ! O father, 
 father?" — and then expired. 
 
 In the mean while the goat's milk di- 
 minished daily, and, the fowls dying soon 
 after, they could no longer distinguish 
 night from day. Upon the approackof 
 the time when they expected the other 
 goat to kid, they killed her, to save the 
 milk for their own subsistence. This 
 necessity was painful in the extreme, for 
 whenever they called this goat it would 
 come and lick their faces and hands. It 
 had given them every day two pounds of 
 milk, and tliey bore the poor creature 
 great affection. 
 
 They said that, during the entire time 
 of their confinement, hunger gave them 
 but little uneasiness, except for the first 
 five or six days. Their greatest pain was 
 from the extreme coldness of the melted 
 snow-water which fell on them, atid frOm 
 the effluvia of the dead ass, goats, fowls, 
 &c. They likewise suffered great bodily 
 inconvenience from the very uneasy 
 posture they were confined to; for the' 
 
159 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 6. 
 
 160 
 
 inanger in which they sat, crouching 
 against the wall, was no more than three 
 feet four inches broad. The mother said 
 she had never slept, but the sister and 
 daughter said they had slept as usual. 
 They were buried in the snow for five 
 weeks. The particulars related were ob- 
 tained and attested on the 16th of May, 
 1755, by the intendant authorised to take 
 the examination. 
 
 The Season. 
 The sunbeams on tlie hedges lie. 
 
 The south wind murmurs summer soft ; 
 The maids hang out white clothes to dry 
 
 Around the elder-skirted croft : 
 A calm of pleasure listens round. 
 
 And almost whispers Winter by ; 
 While Faney dreams of Summer's sound. 
 
 And quiet rapture fills the eye. 
 
 Thus Nature of the Spring will dream 
 
 While south winds thaw ; but soon again 
 Frost breathes upon the stiff'ning stream, 
 
 And numbs it into ice : the plain 
 Soon wears its mourning garb of white ; 
 
 And icicles, that fret at noon. 
 Will eke their icy tails at night 
 
 Beneath the chilly stars and moon. 
 
 ^fature soon sickens of her joys. 
 
 And all is sad and dumb again. 
 Save merry shouts of sliding boys 
 
 About the frozen furrow'd plain. 
 The foddering-boy forgets his song 
 
 And silent goes with folded arms * 
 
 And croodling shepherds bend along. 
 
 Crouching to the whizzing storms. 
 
 Clare's Shepherd' t Calendar, 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Fabruary 5. Day breaks . . 5 25 
 Sun rises ... 7 21 
 
 sets ... 4 39 
 
 Twilight ends. . 6 35 
 A few crocuses are usually in flower on 
 warm banks, and in sunny places. 
 
 •1686. February 6th. King Charles II. 
 died, aged 54. On the 2nd he was seized 
 in bed with an apoplectic fit, of which he 
 had instantly died had not Dr. King in- 
 curred the penalty of the law by bleeding 
 him in the very paroxysm, without await- 
 ing the coming of the other physicians. 
 For this service the privy council ordered 
 the doctor £1000, which was never paid 
 to him.* 
 
 When the king's life was despaired of, 
 
 • Evelyn. Granger. 
 
 two bishops came to exercise their function 
 by reading the appointed forms of prayer. 
 When they read to the part exhorting a. 
 sick person to make a confession of his 
 sins, one of them, Kenn, bishop of Bath 
 and Wells, told Charles " it was not an 
 obligation," and enquired if he was sorry 
 for his sins ; Charles said he was, and the 
 bishop pionounced the absolution. He 
 then asked the king if he pleased to receive 
 the. sacrament, but he made no reply; 
 and, being pressed by the bishop several 
 tiTnes, only gave for answer, that it was 
 time enough, or that he would think of it, 
 His brother, and successor to the throne, 
 the duke of York, stood by the bedside, 
 desired the company to stand away, and 
 then asked the king whether he should 
 send for a priest, to which he replied, 
 " For God's sake, brother, do, and lose 
 no time." The bishops were dismissed ; 
 father Huddleston was quickly brought up 
 a back stair-case ; and from him the head 
 of the church of England received the 
 host, and was " houselled" according to 
 the ritual of the church of Rome. He 
 recommended the care of his natural chil- 
 dren to the duke of York, with the excep- 
 tion of the duke of Monmouth, who was 
 then under his displeasure, in Holland. 
 " He entreated the queen to pardon him," 
 says Evelyn, " not without caOse:" but 
 the anxieties he expressed on his death 
 bed were chiefly in behalf of abandoned 
 females, whom his profligacy had drawn to 
 his licentious court. 
 
 " Thus," says Evelyn, " died king 
 Charles II. ;" and, a week after the pro- 
 clamation at Whitehall, of James II. be 
 adds — " I can never forget the inexpres- 
 sible luxury and profaneness, gaming, 
 and all disstjluteness, as it were total 
 forgetfulness of God (it being Sunday 
 evening) which this day se'nnight I was 
 witness of; the king (Charles II.) sitting 
 and toying with his concubines, Ports- 
 mouth, Cleveland, and Mazarine, &c., a 
 French boy singing love songs in that 
 glorious gallery, whilst about twenty of 
 the great courtiers and other dissolute 
 persons were at basset round a large fable, 
 a bank of at least £2000 in gold before 
 them; upon which two gentlemen, who 
 were with me; made reflections with asto- 
 nishment. Six days after all was in the 
 dust! — God was incensed to make his 
 reign very troublesome and unprosperous, 
 by wars, plagues, fires, loss of reputation, 
 by an universal neglect of the public, for 
 the love of a voluptuous and sensual life.'' 
 
161 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— FEBRUARY 6. 
 
 ](,2 
 
 KING ARTHUR'S ROUND TABLE. 
 
 Where Venta's Norman castle still upreara 
 Its rafter'd hall, — ^that o'er the grassy foss, 
 And scatter'd flinty fragments, clad iu moss, 
 
 On yonder steep in netked state appears, — 
 
 High-hung remains, the pride of warlike years, 
 Old Arthur's Board : on the capacious round 
 Some British pen has sketch'd the names renown'd, 
 
 In marks obscure, of his immortal peers. 
 
 Though joined, by magpie skill, with many a rime, 
 The Druid- frame, unhonor'd, falls a prey 
 
 To the slow vengeance of the wizard, Time, 
 And fade the British characters away ; 
 
 Yet Spenser's page, that chants in verse sublime 
 Those chiefs, shall live, unconscious of decay. 
 
 WartotL 
 
 It is an ancient legend that the castle of 
 Winchester was built by the renowned 
 king Arthur, in 523 ; but Dr. Milner as- 
 certains that it was constructed in the 
 reign of the Normpn conqueror. In its 
 old chapel, now termed the county hall, 
 
 Vol. I.— 6. 
 
 is Arthur's Round Table. It hangs at the 
 ea^t end, and consists of stout oaJc plank, 
 perforated with many bullets, supposed 
 to have been shot by Cromwell's soldiers. 
 It is painted with a figure to represent 
 king Arthur, and with the names of his 
 
 G 
 
163 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 6, 
 
 164 
 
 twenty-four kuights, as they are stated in 
 the romances of the fourteenth and fifteenth 
 centuries. It is represented by the above 
 engraving. 
 
 King Arthur's' round table was believed 
 to have been actually made, and placed 
 in Winchester castle by himself; and 
 was exhibited, as his veritable table, 
 by king Henry VIII., to the emperor 
 Charles V. Hence Drayton sings — 
 
 And so great Arthur's seat ould Winchester 
 prefers. 
 
 Whose ould round table yet she vaunteth to 
 be hers. 
 It is certain that among the learned, at 
 the beginning of the sixteenth century, it 
 was not generally credited that this had 
 really and truly been the table of the re* 
 nowned king Arthur. There is now evi- 
 dence that it was introduced into this 
 country by king Stephen. In the twelfth 
 and succeeding centuries, knights who 
 were accustomed to perform feats of 
 chivalry used to assemble at a table of this 
 form to avoid disputes for precedency. 
 From this usage, the tournaments them- 
 selves obtained the name of the Round 
 Table, and are so called in the records of 
 the times.* 
 
 Arthur's round table was mentioned 
 two centuries and a-half ago, by Paulus 
 Jovius, who relates the emperor's visit to 
 it, and states that many marks of its 
 antiquity had been destroyed, that the 
 names of the knights were then just written 
 afresh, and the table, with its ornaments, 
 newly repaired .+ 
 
 It is agreed that this vestige of former 
 times is of a date quite as early as Stephen, 
 earl of Bologn, and Mortaigne, who, in 
 1135, achieved the chivalrous feat of 
 seizing the crown of England, which had 
 been settled on the empress Maud, as 
 sole descendant of Henry I. The round 
 table at Winchester, therefore, is at least 
 seven hundred years old. 
 
 The reign of Arthur, the celebrated 
 " British king," seems to have been taken 
 on the authority of the no less celebrated 
 Geoffrey of Monmouth, the monkish his- 
 torian, in the reign of king Stephen. On 
 this occasion it is sufficient to add, that, 
 besides the old romance, there is a ballad, 
 called " The Noble Acts of King Arthur, 
 and the Knights of the Round Table ; 
 with the Valiant Atchievements of Sir 
 
 • Milner's History of Winchester, 
 t Hist, of Winchester, by Warton. 
 
 Lancelot du Lake : to the tune of Flying 
 Fame." The ballad commences thus :~ 
 When Arthur first in court began. 
 
 And was approved king ; 
 By force of arms great victories won. 
 
 And conquest home did bring : 
 Then into Britain straight he came. 
 
 Where fifty good and able 
 Knights then repaired unto him^ 
 
 Which were of the Round Table.* 
 
 CHARLES II. 
 
 In the diary of Mr. Pepys, who in the 
 reign of Charles II., as secretary to the 
 navy and military secretary, was constantly 
 at Whitehall, and well acquainted with its 
 affairs, there are numerous traits of the 
 king's public and private conduct, and 
 the manners of the court. 
 
 Extracts from Pepys's Diary. 
 
 1663. May 15. " The king desires 
 nothing but pleasures, and hates the very 
 sight or thought of business. If any of 
 the sober counsellors give him good ad- 
 vice, and move him in any thing that is to 
 his good and honor, the other part, which 
 are his counsellors of pleasure, take him 
 when he is with my lady Castlemaine, and 
 in a humour of delight, and then persuade 
 him that he ought not to hear nor listen 
 to the advice of those old dotards or coun- 
 sellors that were heretofore his enemies, 
 when, God knows, it is they that now-a- 
 days do most study his honor." 
 
 1666. December 8. " Mr. Cowley 
 heard Tom Killigrew publicly tell the 
 king that his matters were coming into a 
 very 111 state, but that yet there was a way 
 to help all. Says he, ' There is a good, 
 honest, able man, that I could name, that 
 if your majesty would employ, and com- 
 mand to see all well executed, all things 
 would soon be mended; and this is one 
 Charles Stuart, who now spends his time 
 in employing his lips about the court, and 
 hath no other employment ; but, if you 
 would give him this employment, he were 
 the fittest! man in the world to perform it.' 
 The king do not profit by any of this, hut 
 lays all aside, and remembers nothing, 
 but to his pleasures again; which is a 
 sorrowful consolation." 
 
 14. « Met my good friend, 
 
 Mr. Evelyn, and walked with him a good 
 while, lamenting our condition for want 
 
 * Collection of Old Ballads, 1726, u. 21 
 
165 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 6. 
 
 166 
 
 of good council, and the king's minding 
 of his business and servants." 
 
 19. For the want of pay to 
 
 the household " many of the music are 
 ready to starve, they being five ycai-s 
 behind hand : nay, ' Evans, the famous 
 tnan upon the harp, having not his equal 
 in the world, did the other day die for 
 mere want, and was fain to be buried at 
 the alms of the parish, and carried to his 
 grave in the darli, at night, without one 
 link, but that Mr. Kingston met it by 
 chance, and did give l2d to buy two or 
 three." 
 
 1667. April 26. " Took a turn with 
 Mr. Evelyn, with whom I walked two 
 hours, talking of the badness of the go- 
 vernment, where nothing but wickedness, 
 and wicked men and women, commanded 
 the king : it is not in his nature to gain- 
 say any thing that relates to his pleasures. 
 Mr. Evelyn tells me of several of the 
 menial servants of the court lacking bread, 
 that have not received a farthing w^es 
 since the king's coming in. Want of 
 paper at the council the other day ; Wooly 
 being to have found it, and, being called, 
 did tell the king to his face the reason of 
 it." 
 
 June 23. " Mr. Povey tells me 
 
 his opinion that it is out of possibility for 
 us to escape being undone, there being 
 nothing in our power to do that is neces- 
 sary for the saving us : a lazy prince, no 
 councils, no money, no reputation at 
 home or abroad. The king hath taken 
 ten times more care and pains in making 
 friends between lady Castlemaine and 
 Mrs. Stewart, when they have fallen out, 
 than ever he did to save the kingdom ; 
 nay, upon any felling out between my 
 lady Castlemaine's nurse and her woman, 
 my lady C. hath often said she would 
 make the king to make them friends and be 
 quiet, which the king hath been fain to do." 
 
 July 27. " Went to visit Sir G. 
 
 Cartwright. He tells me that the court 
 is in a f^r way to ruin all for their plea- 
 sures ; and that he himself hath taken the 
 liberty to tell the king the necessity of 
 having, at least, a show of religion in the 
 government, and sobriety ; and that it was 
 that that did set up and keep up Oliver." 
 
 29. " The king made a short, 
 
 and no very pleasing speech to the house 
 of commons, not at all giving them thanks 
 for their readiness to come up to town at 
 this busy time ; but told them that he did 
 think he should have had occasion for them, 
 but had none, and therefore he did dismiss 
 
 them till October; and that he did wonder 
 any should offer to bring in a suspicion 
 that he intended to rule by an army, and 
 so bade them go and settle the minds of 
 the country in tliat particular. Thus they 
 are dismissed, to their general great dis- 
 taste, to see themselves so fooled, and the 
 nation certain of ruin ; while the king, 
 they see, is only governed by his women, 
 and rogues about him. They do all give 
 up the kingdom for lost that I speak to ; 
 .and do hear what the king says, how he 
 and the duke of York do do what they 
 can to get up an army, that they may 
 need no more parliaments ; and how my 
 lady Castlemaine hath said to the king, 
 that he must rule by an army, or all 
 would be lost. The kingdom nevnr in so 
 troubled a condition in this world as now. 
 To Whitehall, and looking out of the 
 window into the garden, I saw the king, 
 whom I have not had any desire to see 
 since the Dutch came upon the wars to 
 Sheerness, for shame that I should see 
 him, or he me, afler such a dishonour 
 With him, in the garden, two or three 
 idle lords; and instantly after him, in 
 another walk, my lady Castlemaine — how 
 imperious this woman is, and hectors the 
 king to whatever she will. She is come 
 to-day, when, one would think, his mind 
 should be full of some other cares, having 
 but this morning broken up such a parlia 
 ment, with so much discontent, and so 
 many wants upon him. There is not an 
 ofiScer in the house, almost, but curses him 
 for letting them starve, and there is not a 
 farthing of money to be raised for the 
 buying them bread." 
 
 1667-8. Feb. 13. « Tom Killigrew 
 hath a fee out of the wardrobe for cap 
 and bells, under the title of the king's 
 fool or jester ; and may revile or jeer any 
 body, the greatest person, without offence, 
 by the privilege of his place." 
 
 Dec. 3. « To Whitebait— saw 
 
 all the ladies, and heard the silly discourse 
 of the I king with Kis people about him, 
 telling a story of my lord Rochester." 
 
 1668-9. Feb. 17. " The king, dininf: 
 yesterday at the Dutch ambassador's, afler 
 dinner they drank, and were pretty merry : 
 among the king's company was that worthy 
 fellow my lord of Rochester, and Tom 
 Killigrew, whose mirth and raillery offend- 
 ed the former so much that he did give 
 Tom Killigrew a box on the ear, in the 
 king's presence; which do give much 
 offence to the people here, to see how 
 cheap the king makes himself, and the 
 G2 
 
167 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY f, 
 
 i6ft 
 
 more for that the king hath not only 
 passed by the thing, and pardoned it to 
 Rochester already, but this very morning 
 the king did publicly walk up and down, 
 and Rochester I saw with him as free as 
 ever, to the king's everlasting shame to 
 have so idle a rogue his companion." 
 
 1667. Sept. 3. " I dined with Sir 
 G.Carteret (vice-chamberlain); after dinner 
 I was witness of a horrid rating which 
 Mr. Ashburnham, as one of the grooms 
 of the king's bed-chamber, did give Mr, 
 Townshend (officer of the wardrobe), for 
 want of linen for the king's person, which 
 he swore was not to be endured, and that 
 the king would not endure it, and that his 
 father would liave hanged his wardrobe 
 man, should he have been served so ; the 
 king having at this day no handker- 
 chiefs, and but three bands to his neck. 
 Mr. Townshend pleaded want of money, 
 and the owing of the linen-draper £5000; 
 but still this old man (Mr. Ashburnham), 
 like an old loving servant, did cry out for 
 the king's person to be so neglected. — 
 When he was gone, Mr. Townshend told 
 me that it is the grooms' taking away the 
 king's linen at the quarter's end, as their 
 fees, which makes this great want; for 
 whether the king can get it or no, they 
 will run away at the quarter's end with 
 what he hath had, let the king get more 
 as he can." 
 
 Waller, in a letter to St. Evreraond, 
 mentions Charles's vexation under the 
 pillage he suffered from his ill-paid 
 household. 
 
 " Last night," says Waller, " I supped 
 at lord R.'s with a select party. The 
 most perfect good-humour was supported 
 through the whole evening; nor was it in 
 the least disturbed, when, unexpectedly, 
 towards the end of it, the king came in. 
 ' Something has vexed him,' said Roches- 
 ter ; ' he never does me this honor, but 
 when he is in an ill humor. ' " The fol- 
 lowing dialogue, or something very like 
 it, then ensued : 
 
 " The king. How the devil have I got 
 here ? The knaves have sold every cloak 
 in the wardrobe. 
 
 " Rochester. Those knaves are fools. 
 That is a part of dress, which, for their 
 own sakes, your majesty ought never to be 
 without. 
 
 " The king. Pshaw ! — I'm vexed ! 
 
 " Rochester. I hate still life— I'm glad 
 of it. Your majesty is never so enter- 
 taining as when 
 
 ' The king. Ridiculous ! — I believe the 
 English are the most untractable people 
 upon earth. 
 
 " Rochester. I most humbly beg your 
 majesty's pardon, if I presume in that 
 respect. 
 
 " The king. You would find thera so 
 were you in my place, and obliged to 
 govern. 
 
 " Rochester. Were I in your majesty's 
 place I would not govern at all." 
 
 The dialogue proceeded, and Rochester 
 retorted, by alluding to the king's habits, 
 and referring him to a prelate. 
 
 " Rochester. let the bishop ol 
 
 Salisbury deny it if he can. 
 
 " The king. He died last night ; have 
 you a mind to succeed him ? 
 
 " Rochester. On condition that I shall 
 neither be called upon to preach on the 
 thirtieth of January, nor on the twenty- 
 ninth of May. 
 
 " The king. Those conditions are curi- 
 ous. You object to the first, I suppose, 
 because it would be a melancholy sub- 
 ject; but the other 
 
 " Rochester. Would be a melancholy 
 subject too." 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Granger, the most chari- 
 table, and least prejudiced of biographical 
 historians, says, that " Charles II., though 
 a genius, acted in direct opposition to 
 every principle of sound policy ; and, in 
 appearance, without propensity to tyranny, 
 made no scruple of embracing such mea 
 sures as were destructive to the civil and 
 religious liberties of , his . people. . He 
 chose rather to be a pensioner to France, 
 than the arbiter of Europe ; and to sacri- 
 fice the independence of his kingdom, and 
 the happiness of his subjects, than to 
 resist his attachment to indolence and 
 pleasure. He, under the veil of openness 
 and candour, concealed the deepest and 
 most dangerous dissimulation. Though 
 he was a slave to love, he appears to have 
 been an entire stranger to the softer senti- 
 ments of pity and compassion. He vtas 
 gay, affable, and polite ; and knew how 
 to win the hearts, when he could no longer 
 gain the esteem of mankind." 
 
 A cheerful Glass. 
 
 On the proclamation of James II., in 
 the market place of Bromley, by the 
 Sheriff of Kent, the commander of the 
 Kentish troop, two of the king's trumpets. 
 
169 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. FEBRUARY 6 
 
 iro 
 
 and other officers, they drank the king's 
 health in a flint glass of a yard long,* 
 
 On Dress, temp. Chaeles II. 
 
 The Monmouth, or military cock of 
 the hat, was much worn in this reign, and 
 continued a considerable time in fashion. 
 
 The periwig, which had been long used 
 in France, was introduced into England 
 soon after the Restoration. 
 
 There is a tradition that the large 
 black wig which Dr. R. Rawlinson be- 
 queathed, among other things of much 
 less consideration, to the Bodleian Li- 
 brary, was worn by Charles II. 
 
 Some were greatly scandalized at this 
 article of dress, as equally indecent with 
 long hair ; and more culpable, because 
 more unnatural. Many preachers in- 
 veighed against it in their sermons, and 
 cut their hair shorter, to express their ab- 
 horrence of the reigning mode. 
 
 It was observed that a periwig pro- 
 cured many persons a respect, and even 
 veneration, which they were strangers to 
 before, and to which they had not the 
 - least claim from their personal merit. 
 Thejudgesand physicians, who thoroughly 
 understood this magic of the wig, gave i' 
 all the advantage of length, as well as 
 size. 
 
 The extravagant fondess of some men 
 for this unnatural ornament is scarcely 
 credible. It is related, of a country gen- 
 tleman, that he employed a painter to 
 place periwigs upon the heads of several 
 of Vandyck's portraits. 
 
 Anthony Wood informs us that Nath. 
 Vincent, D. D., chaplain in ordinary to 
 the king, preached before him at New- 
 market, ia a long periwig, and Holland 
 sleeves, according, to the then fashion for 
 gentlemen; and that his majesty was so 
 offended at it, that he commanded the 
 duke of Monmouth, chancellor to the 
 university of Cambridge, to see the statutes 
 concerning decency of apparel put in ex- 
 ecution ; which was done accordingly. 
 
 The lace neckcloth became in fashion in 
 this, and continued to be worn in the two 
 following reigns. 
 
 Open sleeves, pantaloons, and shoulder 
 knots, were also worn at this period, 
 which was the sera of shoe-buckles : but 
 ordinary people, and such as affected 
 plainness in their garb, continued for a 
 
 » Evelyn's Diary, Feb. 10. 1686. 
 
 long time after to wear strings in their 
 shoes. 
 
 The clerical habit seems not to have 
 been worn in its present form, before this 
 reign. 
 
 Thiers, in his "Treatise of Perukes," 
 informs us that no ecclesiastic wore a 
 band before the middle of the' last cen- 
 tury, or a peruke before the Restoration; 
 The clerical band, which was first worn 
 with broad lappets, apparently had its 
 origin from the falling band, which is di- 
 vided under the chin. 
 
 The ladies' hair was curled and frizzled 
 with the nicest art, and they frequently 
 set it off with " heartbreakers" — artificial 
 curls. Sometimes a string of pearls, or 
 an ornament of riband, was worn on the 
 head; and, in the latter part of this reign, 
 hoods of various kinds were in fashion. 
 
 Patching and painting the face, than 
 which nothing was more common in 
 France, was also too common among the 
 ladies in England. But, what was much 
 worse, they affected a mean betwixt dress 
 and nakedness, which occasioned the 
 publication of a book entitled "A just 
 and seasonable reprehension of naked 
 Breasts and Shoulders, with a Preface by 
 Richard Baxter." 
 
 It appears, from the "Memoires de 
 Grammont," that "green stockings were 
 worn by one of the greatest beauties of 
 the English court.* 
 
 In Pepys's very minute and ever interest- 
 ing Diary, there are many curious parti- 
 culars relating to dress. He notes down 
 of his wearing of great skirts, and a white 
 suit with silver lace to the coat ; and that 
 he had come home a black " camlett 
 cloak with gold buttons, and a silk suit." 
 On a Sunday he called at his father's to 
 change his long black cloak for a short 
 one, "long cloaks being quite out ;" ana 
 he tells us of his brother bringing him his 
 "jackanapes coat with silver buttons." 
 This was before 1662, in the March of 
 which year he writes, " By and by comes 
 La Belle Pierce to see my wife, and to 
 bring her a pair of perukes of hair, as the 
 fashion is for ladies to wear ; which are 
 pretty, and of my wife's own hair." Next 
 month he says, "Went with my wife by 
 coach to the New (Exeter) Exchange, to 
 buy her some things ; where we saw some 
 new-fashion petticoats of sarsnet, with a 
 
 * Granger. 
 
171 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 6. 
 
 172 
 
 black broad lace printed round the bottom 
 and before, very handsome." In May he 
 makes this memorandum : — "My wife and 
 I, in the Privy Garden, savf the finest 
 'she-shirts' and linen petticoats of my 
 lady Castlemaine, laced with rich laces at 
 the bottom, that ever I saw." In the 
 same month he walked in the park "where," 
 he says, " I saw the king now out of 
 mourning, in a suit laced with gold and 
 silver, which it is said was out of fashion." 
 In October he put on a new band, which 
 pleased him so much, that he writes, " I 
 am resolved my great expense shall be 
 lace-bands, and it will set off any thing 
 the more." The notes in his Diary, after 
 1662, of prevailing modes and changes in 
 dress, become more descriptive, and also 
 deserve to be transcribed. 
 
 Extracts. 
 1663, July 13. The king rode in the 
 park with the queen, who wore "a white 
 laced waistcoat and a crimson short petti- 
 coat, and her hair dressed d la negligence, 
 mighty pretty. The king rode hand in 
 hand with her, attended by the ladies of 
 honor. Lady Castlemaine rode among the 
 rest of the ladies, and had a yellow plume 
 in her hat. But above all,"Mrs. Stuart, 
 with her hat cocked and a red plume, is 
 now the greatest beauty I think I ever 
 saw in my life." 
 
 October 30. "£43, worse than I 
 
 was last month. But it hath chiefly 
 arisen from my laying out in clothes for 
 myself and wife; viz. for her about £12 
 and for myself £55 or thereabout ; having 
 made myself a velvet cloak, two new cloth 
 skirts, black, plain, both ; a new shag 
 gown, trimmed with gold buttons and 
 twist, with a new hat, and silk tops for 
 my legs — two perriwigs, one whereof 
 -cost me £3, and the other 40s. I have 
 worn neither yet, but I will begin next 
 month, God willing." 
 
 November 30. « Put on my best 
 
 black cloth suit, tri-nmed witb scarlet 
 ribbons, very neat, with my cloak lined 
 with velvet, and a new beaver, which 
 altogether is very noble, with my black, 
 silk knit canons I bought a month ago." 
 
 1663-4, February 1. "I did give my 
 wife's brother a close-bodied light-colored 
 coat that I had by me, with a gold edging 
 in each seam, that was the lace of my 
 wife's best petticoat that she hM on when 
 I married her. He is gone into Holland 
 to seek his fortune." 
 
 15. "The duke (of York) 
 
 first put on a perriwig to-day ; but me- 
 thought his hair cut short, in order thereto, 
 did look very pretty of itself, before he 
 put on his perriwig." 
 
 -^- April 18. « To Hide Park, where 
 I have not been since last year : where I 
 saw the king with his perriwig, but not 
 altered at all ; and my lady Castlemaine 
 in a coach by herself, in yellow satin and 
 a pinner on." 
 
 1664, June 24. "To the park, and 
 there met the queen coming from chapel, 
 with her inaids of honor, all in silver lace- 
 gowns again ; which is new to me, and 
 that which I did not think would have 
 been brought up again." 
 
 November 1 1 . Put on my new 
 
 shaggy gown with gold buttons and loop 
 lace." 
 
 1664-5, March 6. " To St. James's— 
 did business with the duke. Great pre- 
 parations for his speedy return to sea. I 
 saw him try on his buff coat and hat-piece 
 covered over with black velvet." 
 
 1665, May 14. " To church, it being 
 Whit-Sunday; ray wife very fine in a 
 new yellow bird's-eye hood, as the fashion 
 is now." 
 
 June 1 . " Afler dinner I put on 
 
 my new camelott suit ; the best that 
 ever I wore in my life, the suit costing 
 me above £24. In this I went to Gold- 
 smith's Hall, to the burial of Sir Thomas 
 Viner [sheriff of London 1648 — Lord 
 Mayor 1654]; which hall, and Haber- 
 dasher's also, was so full of people, that 
 we were fain, for ease and coolness, to 
 go forth to Paternoster Row, to choose 
 me a silk to make me. a plain ordinary 
 suit." 
 
 June 11. " Walking in the gal- 
 leries at Whitehall, I find the ladies of 
 honor dressed in their riding garbs, with 
 coats and doublets with deep skirts, just 
 for all the world like mine, and their 
 doublets buttoned up the breast, with 
 perriwigs and with hats ; so that, only for 
 a long petticoat dragging under their 
 men's coats, nobody would take them for 
 women in any point whatever; which 
 was an odd sight, and a sight that did not 
 please me." 
 
 July 31. "In my new colored 
 
 silk suit, and coat trimmed with gold 
 buttons, and gold broad lace round my 
 hands, very rich and fine." 
 
 September 3. " Put on mv co- 
 lored silk suit, very fine, and my new 
 perriwig bought a good while since, but 
 durst not wear it because the plague was 
 
173 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 6. 
 
 ITA 
 
 in Westminster when I bought it; and it 
 is a wonder what will be the fashion after 
 the plague is done, as to perriwigs, for 
 nobody will dare to buy any hair, for fear 
 that it had been cut off of the heads of 
 people dead with the plague." 
 
 1666, October 8. "The king hath 
 yesterday in council declared his resolu- 
 tion of setting a fashion for clothes which 
 he will never alter." 
 
 13. "To Whitehall; and 
 
 there the duke of York was just come in 
 from hunting. So I stood and saw him , 
 dress himself, and try ou his vest, which 
 is the king's new fashion, and he will be 
 in it for good and all on Monday next, 
 and the whole court : it is a fashion the 
 king says he will never change." 
 
 IS. " This day the king 
 
 begun to put on his vest, and I did see 
 several persons of the House of Lords, 
 and commons too, great courtiers who are 
 in it ; beirg a long cassock close to the 
 body, of black cloth, and pinked with 
 white silk under it, and a coat over it, 
 and the legs ruffled with black riband 
 like a pigeon's leg ; and upon the whole 
 I wish the king may keep it, for it is a 
 very fine and handsome garment." 
 
 " Lady Carteret tells me the ladies are 
 to go into a new fashion shortly, and that 
 is, to wear short coats above their ancles ; 
 which she and I do not like; but con- 
 clude this long train to be mighty graceful. 
 
 17th. "The court is full of 
 
 vests, only my lord St. Albans not pinked, 
 but plain black; and they say the king 
 says, the pinking upon white makes them 
 look too much like magpies, and hath 
 bespoken one of plain velvet." 
 
 , . 20th. " They talk that the 
 
 queen hath a great mind to have the feet 
 seen, which she loves mightily." 
 
 November 2, "To the ball at 
 
 night at court, it being the queen's birth- 
 day, and now the house grew full, and 
 the candles light, and the king and queen, 
 and all the ladies, sat; and it was indeed 
 a glorious sight to see Mrs. Stewart in 
 black and white lace, and her head and 
 shoulders dressed with diamonds, and the 
 like many great ladies more, only the 
 queen none; and the king in his rich 
 vest of some rich silk and silver trim- 
 ming, as the duke of York and all the 
 dancers were, some of cloth of silver, 
 and others of other sorts, exceeding rich 
 — the ladies all most excellently dressed 
 in rich petticoats and gowns, and dia- 
 monds and pearls,'' 
 
 November 22. " Mr. Batilier 
 
 t«lls me the king of France hath, in defi- 
 ance to the king of England, caused all 
 his footmen to be put into vests, and that 
 the noblemen of France will do the like ; 
 which, if true, is the greatest indignity 
 ever done by one prince to another, and 
 would excite a stone to be revenged ; and 
 I hope OUT king will, if it be so." 
 
 1666-7, February 4. "My wife and 
 I out to the duke's playhouse — very full 
 of great company; among others, Mrs. 
 Stewart, very fine, with her locks done 
 up with puffs, as my wife calls them; 
 and several other ladies had their hair so, 
 though I do not like it; "but my wife do 
 mightily ; but it is only because she sees 
 •it is the fashion." 
 
 1667, March 29. "To a perriwig 
 maker's, and there bought two perriwigs, 
 itiighty fine indeed, too fine, I thought, 
 for me, but he persuaded me, and I did 
 buy them for £4. 10s. the two. 31st. To 
 church, and with my mourning, very 
 handsome, and new perriwig, make a 
 great show." 
 
 December 8. "To Whitehall, 
 
 where I saw the duchess of York in a 
 fine dress of second mourning for her 
 mother, being black, edged with ermine, 
 go to make her first visit to the queen 
 since the duke of York's being sick." 
 
 1668, March 26th. " To the duke of 
 York's house to see the new play, called 
 'The Man is the Master;' when the 
 house was (for the hour), it being not one 
 o'clock, very full. My wife extraordinary 
 fine in her flower-tabby suit, and every 
 body in love with it; and indeed she is 
 very handsome in it.'' 
 
 ri;ere is a curious trait in the personal 
 character of Charles IL " He took de- 
 light," says Mr. Evelyn, "in- having a 
 number of little spaniels follow him, and 
 lie down in the bed chamber, where he 
 often suffered the bitches to puppy and 
 give suck, which rendered it very offen- 
 sive, and indeed made the whole court 
 nasty and stinking." 
 
 Wilful Livers. 
 
 The mark they shoot at, the end they 
 look for, the heaven they desire, is only 
 their own present pleasure and private 
 profit; whereby they plainly declare of 
 whose school, of what religion they be : 
 that is, epicures in living, and a;^coc in 
 doctrine. Ascham, 
 
175 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY T. 
 
 176 
 
 ' a. m. 
 
 Fehnuiry 6. Day breaks . . 3 23, 
 
 Sun rises . . . 7 19 
 
 — sets ... 4 41 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 37 
 
 Butcher's-broom flowers. 
 
 A Walk in Winter 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Healthy and hearty, and strong of limb, 
 on a sharp cold frosty morning, I clap 
 on my hat, button up my coat, draw on 
 my gloves, and am off with a friend for a 
 walk 
 
 Over the hills and far away. 
 
 We foot it, and crush the snow right 
 merrily together. How winter-like is 
 yonder farm-yard! That solitary me- 
 lancholy Jacques — a jackass, with his ears 
 down, and his knees trembling, is the 
 very picture of cold. That drake looks 
 as though his blood were congealed, and 
 he wanted a friendly handling to thaw it, 
 as they do his brother's at Naples on the 
 day of St. Januarius. Yonder goose on 
 one leg seems weighing the difficulty of 
 putting down the other. The fowls 
 cheerlessly huddle together. Ignorant of 
 the kite soaring beautifully above them, 
 whetting his beak on the keen wind. — 
 Wheugh ! what a clatter 1 He has plumped 
 into the midst of the poultry, seized a 
 fine hen, and is flying down the wind 
 with his screaming prey. 
 
 Along the lane where, in summer, the 
 hedgerows and banks are deliciously green, 
 and the ear is charmed with the songs of 
 birds,thebranchesare nowbareof leaves,and 
 the short herbage covered with the drifted 
 snow, except close to the thickly growing 
 roots of the blackthorn. Yon fowler with 
 his nets has captured a lark. Poor bird ! 
 never again will he rise and take flight in 
 the boundless air, 
 
 At heaven's gate singing — 
 
 He is destined to a narrow cage, and a 
 turf less wide than his wings. Yonder, 
 too, is a sportsman with his gun and 
 sideling looks, in search of birds, whom 
 hunger may wing within reach of shot — 
 he is perplexed by a whirling snipe at too 
 great a distance. There is a skater on 
 ihe pool, and the fish below are doubtless 
 wondering at the rumbling and tumbling 
 above. That sparrow hawk is hurrying 
 after a fieldfare. — Look! he-is above his 
 
 object, see how he hovers ; he stoops— a 
 shot from the sportsman— down comes 
 the hawk, not in the beauty of a fierce 
 swoop, but fluttering in death's agony ; 
 and the scared fieldfare hastens away, low 
 to ground. 
 
 Well, our walk out is a long 
 
 one. We'll go into this little inn. After 
 stamping the snow from our feet, we enter 
 the nicely sanded passage, find a snug 
 parlour with a good clear fire, and in a few 
 minutes our host places before us a prime 
 piece of well corned beef, and we lessen 
 Its weight by at least two pounds; and 
 the home-brewed is capital. Scarcely 
 two m'onths more, and we shall have the 
 nightingale, with his pipe and jug, in the 
 adjoining thickets. 
 
 S.R.J 
 
 Court Jocularity in Cold Weather. 
 
 King Henry II. lived on terms of fami- 
 liarity and merriment with his great offi- 
 cers of state. In cold and stormy weather, 
 as he was riding through the streets of 
 London, with his chancellor, Thomas & 
 Becket, afterwards archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, the king saw coming towards them 
 a poor old man, in a thin coat, worn to 
 tatters. " Would it not be a great charity," 
 said he to the chancellor, " to give this 
 naked wrelch, who is so needy and infirm, 
 a good warm cloak?" "Certainly," 
 answered the minister ; • " and you do the 
 duty of a king, in turning your eyes and 
 thoughts to such subjects." While they 
 were thus talking, the man came nearer; 
 the king asked him if he wished to have a 
 good cloak, and, turning to the chancellor, 
 said, " You shall have the merit of this 
 good deed of charity;" then, suddenly 
 laying hold on a fine new scarlet cloak, 
 lined with fur, which Becket had on, he 
 tried to pull it from him, and, after a 
 struggle, in which they had both nearly 
 fallen from their horses, the king prevailed, 
 the poor man had the cloak, and the cour- 
 tiers laughed, like good courtiers, at the 
 pleasantry of the king.* 
 
 Februan/ 
 
 7. Daybreaks ., 
 
 . 5 
 
 22 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 7 
 
 17 
 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 4 
 
 43 
 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 
 
 38 
 
 White 
 
 Alysson flowers. 
 
 
 
 * Littletoa*s Life of Henry II 
 
177 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 7. 
 
 178 
 
 A CASTLE. 
 
 According to Dr. Johnson, a castle is 
 " a strong house fortified ;" but this gives 
 little more information than the saying, 
 according to law, " Every man's house 
 is his castle ;" or, than the line of a song, 
 •which says. 
 
 Our house is our castellum. 
 
 A castle is a fortress, or fortification of 
 stone, surrounded by high and thick walls 
 of defence, with different works, as repre- 
 sented in the engraving, on which are 
 figures to denote. 
 
 1. The.barbacan. 
 
 2. Ditch, or moat. 
 
 3. Wall of the outer ballium. 
 
 4. Outer ballium. 
 
 5. Artificial mount. 
 
 6. Wall of the inner ballium. 
 
 7. Inner ballium. 
 
 8. Keep, or dungeon. 
 
 1 . The barbacan was a ww^ch-tower for 
 the purpose of descrying a distant enemy. 
 It seems to have had no positive place, 
 except that it was always an outwork, and 
 frequently advanced beyond the ditch, to 
 which it was joined by a drawbridge, and 
 formed the entrance into the castle. 
 
 2. The ditch, which was also called the 
 
 mote, tosse, or gra , was either wet or 
 dry, according to the circumstances of the 
 situation ; when dry, there were some- 
 times subterranean passages, through 
 which the cavalry could pass. 
 
 3. The wall of the outer ballium was 
 within the ditch, on the castle side. This 
 wall was usually high, flanked with towers, 
 and had a parapet, embattled, crenellated, 
 or garretted,"for mounting it. 
 
 4. The outer ballium was the space, or 
 yard, within the outer wall. In the bal 
 lium were lodgings, or barracks, for the 
 garrison, and artificers ; wells for water ; 
 and sometimes a monastery. 
 
 5. An artificial mount, commanding the 
 adjacent country, was often thrown up in 
 the ballium. 
 
 6 The wall of the inner ballium sepa- 
 rated it from the outer ballium. 
 
 7. The inner ballium was a second en- 
 closed space, or yard. When a castle-had 
 an inner ballium, which was not always 
 the case, it contained the buildings, &c., 
 before-mentioned (4) as being within the 
 ballium. 
 
 8. The keep, or dungeon, commonly, 
 though not -always, stood on an eminence 
 in the centre ; sometimes it was emphati- 
 
179 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 8. 
 
 180 
 
 cally called the tower. It was the citadel, 
 or last retreat of the garrison, and was 
 generally a high square tower of four or 
 five stories, having turrets at each angle, 
 with stair-cases in the turrets. The walls 
 of this edifice were always of an extraor- 
 dinary thickness, which enabled them to 
 exist longer than other buildings, and they 
 are now almost the only remains of our 
 ancient castles. In the keep, or dungeon, 
 the lord, or governor, had his state rooms, 
 which were little better than gloomy cells, 
 with chinks, or embrasures, diminishing 
 inwards, through which arrows, from long 
 and cross-bows, might be discharged 
 against besiegers. Some keeps, especially 
 those of small castles, had not even these 
 conveniences, but were solely lighted by 
 a small perforation in the top. The dif- 
 ferent stories were frequently vaulted ; 
 sometimes they were only separated by 
 joists. On the top of the keep was usually 
 a platform, with an embattled parapet, 
 whence the garrison could see and com- 
 mand the exterior works. 
 
 ■ Castles were designed for residence as 
 well as defence. According to some 
 writers the ancient Britons had castles of 
 stone ; but they were few in number, and 
 either decayed, or so much destroyed, 
 through neglect or invasions, that, at the 
 lime of the Norman conquest, little more 
 than their ruins remained ; and this is as- 
 signed as a reason for the facility with 
 which the Normans mastered the country, 
 The conqueror erected and restored many 
 castles, and on the lands parcelled out to his 
 followers they erected castles all over the 
 country. These edifices greatly multi- 
 plied in the turbulent and unsettled state 
 of the kingdom under other sovereigns: 
 towards the end of the reign of Stephen 
 they amounted to the almost incredible 
 number of eleven hundred and fifteen. 
 
 As the feudal system strengthened, cas- 
 tles became the heads of baronies. Each 
 castle became a manor, and the castellaiii, 
 owner, or governor, the lord of that manor. 
 Markets and fairs were held there to pre- 
 vent frauds in the king's duties, or customs; 
 and there his laws were enforced until the 
 lords usurped the regal power, not only 
 within their castles, but the environs, 
 and exercised civil and criminal jurisdic- 
 tion, coined money, and even seized forage 
 and provision for their garrisons. Their 
 oppression grew so high, that, according to 
 William of Newbury, "there were as 
 many kmgs, or rather tyrants, as lords ol 
 
 castles ;'' and Matthew Paris styles them 
 " very nests of devils, and dens of thieves." 
 The licentiousness of the lords, and the 
 number of their castles, were diminished 
 by king Stephen, and particularly by his 
 successor Henry II., who prohibited the 
 building of new castles without special 
 licence.* His creation of burghs for the 
 encouragement of trade and industry was 
 an inroad upon the power of the lords, by 
 which it was finally subverted. 
 
 St. Magnus' Okgan. 
 
 1712, February 8. The "Spectator" 
 contains the following notice — 
 
 " Whereas Mr. Abraham Jordan, sen. 
 and jun., have, with their own hands 
 (joynery excepted), made and erected a 
 very large organ in St. Magnus church at 
 the foot of London Bridge, consisting of 
 four sets of keys, one of which is adapted 
 to the art of emitting sounds by swelling 
 notes, which was never in any organ 
 before ; this instrument will be publiekly " 
 opened on Sunday next, the performance 
 by Mr. John Robinson. The above said 
 Abraham Jordan gives notice to all mas- 
 ters and performers that he will attend 
 every day next week at the said church 
 to accommodate all those gentlemen who 
 shall have any curiosity to hear it." 
 
 In 1825 the church of St. Magnus the 
 Martyr, by London Bridge, was " repaiiv 
 ed and beautified" at a very considerable 
 expence. During the reparation the east 
 window, which had been closed, was re- 
 stored, and the interior of the fabric con- 
 formed to the state in which it was left by 
 its great architect, Sir Christopher Wren. 
 The magnificent organ referred to in the 
 Spectator; was taken down and rebuilt by 
 Mr. Parsons, and re-opened, with the 
 church, on the 12th of February, 1826, 
 
 Organ Buhders. 
 Bernard Smith, or more properly 
 Schmidt, a native of Germany, came to 
 England with his nephews Gerard and 
 Bernard, and, to distinguish him from 
 them, obtained the name of "Father 
 Smith." He was the rival of the Harris's 
 from France, and built an organ at 
 Whitehall too precipitately, to gain the 
 
 * Grose. 
 
181 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 8. 
 
 182 
 
 start of them, as they had arrived nearly 
 at the same time in England. Emulation 
 was powerfully exerted. Dallans joined 
 Smith, but died in 1672 ; and Renatus 
 Harris, son of the elder Harris, made 
 great improvements. The contest became 
 still warmer. The citizens of London, 
 profiting by the rivalship of these ex> 
 cellent artists, erected organs in their 
 churches ; and the city, the court, and 
 even the lavjyers, were divided in judg- 
 ment as to the superiority. In order to 
 decide the matter, the famous contest 
 took place in the Temple Church, 
 upon their respective organs, played by 
 eminent performers, before eminent 
 judges, one of whom was the too cele- 
 brated Chancellor Jefferies. Blow and 
 Purcell played for Smith, and LuUy, 
 organist to queen Catherine, for Harris. 
 In the course of the contest, Harris chal- 
 lenged Father Smith to make, by a given 
 time, the additional stops of the vox hu- 
 mana j the cremona, or viol stop ; the dou- 
 ble courtel, oi bass flute, &c. ; which was 
 accepted, and eacK exerted his abilities to 
 the utmost. Jefferies at length decided 
 in iavor of Smith, and Harris's organ was 
 withdrawn. Father Smith maintained 
 his reputation, and was appointed organ- 
 builder to queen Ann. His nephews 
 worked in the country, rather as repairers 
 than builders of organs, and-Harris went 
 to Bristol. Christopher Schrider, one of 
 Father Smith's workmen, married his 
 daughter, and succeeded to his business; 
 as Renatus Harris's son, John, did to 
 his. But Swarbrick and Turner, of 
 Cambridge, had part of the Harris's 
 trade, till Jordan, a distiller, and self- 
 taught organ-builder, whose advertisement 
 concerning the organ at St. Magnus's 
 church appears above, rivalled these men. 
 Abraham, the son of old Jordan, ex- 
 ceeded his father in execution, and bad 
 the greater part of the business. It was 
 afterwards shared by Byfield and Bridge.* 
 
 A CHARACTER. 
 John Chappel, 
 Church Clerk of Morley, Yorkshire. 
 Extracted from the " History of Morley, in the 
 parish of Batley, and West Riding of York- 
 shire ; &c.. By Norrisson Scatcherd, Esq., 
 Leeds, 1830." Octavo. 
 Old John Chappel lived in a house 
 near the vestry chamber, where his mother, 
 
 * Hawkins's History of Music ; cited in 
 V^oble's CoQtinuatioa to Granger, 
 
 an old school-mistress, taught me my 
 alphabet. John was the village carrier to 
 Leeds, a remarkably honest, sober man, 
 but quite an original of his kind. Music, 
 to him, was every thing; especially if 
 it belonged to Handel, Boyce, Green, or 
 Kent. He was an old bachelor; and, 
 seated in his arm chair, with a number of 
 fine fat tabby cats, his music books, and 
 violoncello, a king might have envied him 
 his happiness. At a very early age John 
 had got so well drilled in the science of 
 " sol-fa-ing," that he could catch up his 
 distances very correctly, when singing in 
 parts and attempting a new piece, and he 
 was outrageously violent with those who 
 possessed not the same talent. Being 
 " cock of the walk," in the gallery of the 
 old chapel, he, unfortunately, intimidated 
 so many of his pupils, that they sought 
 harmqpy, less intermingled with discords, 
 at the Calvinistic chapel, and we lost an 
 excellent singer (Ananiah Illingworth) 
 from that cause alone. But old John re- 
 paid, by his zeal and fidelity, the injury 
 which he did us by his petulence — year after 
 year, and Sabbath after Sabbath, morning 
 and afternoon, in the coldest and most 
 inclement weather, yea, up to the knees 
 in snow, would old "Cheetham" trudge 
 with his beloved violoocello, carrying it 
 with all the care and tenderness that a 
 woman does her babe. But, oh I to see 
 him with his bantling between his knees, 
 the music books elevated, his spectacles 
 mounted on a fine bowing nose (between 
 the Roman and the Aquiline), surrounded 
 by John Bilbrough, with his left-handed 
 fiddle (a man who played a wretched 
 flute), and a set of young lads yelping 
 about him, was a sight for a painter. On 
 the other hand, to have heard him, on his 
 return from Leeds, with his heavy cart 
 and old black horse, singing one of 
 Dr. Boyce's airs— r" softly rise, southern 
 breeze" — with a voice between a tenor 
 and a counter-tenor, would have de- 
 lighted even the doctor himself. Ah I 
 those days when modest worth, rural 
 innocence, and unostentatious piety, were 
 seen in the village, in many a living ex- 
 ample, I can scarcely think on without a 
 tear. First, on a Sunday morning, came 
 the excellent " Natty," as humble, pious, 
 and moral a man as I ever knew ; then * 
 followed old John, with his regiment; 
 and, next, the venerable pastor, in his 
 clerical hat and large cauliflower, or full- 
 bottoraed, wig — tall, erect, dignified, and 
 serious, with an appearance which would 
 
183 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 9. 
 
 184 
 
 Ivave suited the cathedral at York, and a 
 countenance which might have stood in 
 the place of a sermon. But I must not 
 indulge myself upon this subject.* 
 
 The Season. 
 
 The owl may sometimes be heard to 
 hoot about this day. 
 
 The owl is vulgarly called the " Scotch 
 nightingale." In June, 1656, Mr. Evelyn 
 enters in his diary — " came to visit the 
 old marquess of Argyle (since executed), 
 Lord Lothian, and some other Scotch 
 noblemen, all strangers to me. Note. — 
 The marquess took the turtle doves in the 
 • viary for owls." 
 
 tion, and gained many adherents, they 
 assumed a character to which they had no 
 pretension. Unlike the Vend€ans, who 
 could not bear nocturnal fighting, the 
 chouans made all their attacks by, night. 
 It was never their aim, by taking towns 
 or hazarding a battle, to strike any de- 
 cisive blow. They never deserved 'the 
 name of soldiers ; they were smugglers 
 transformed into banditti.* 
 
 Chouans. 
 
 This denomination of a band of insur- 
 gents, during the first French revolution, is 
 riot in general better understood than the 
 dstinction made between the " Chouans'' 
 and the " Vendeans." Under the gabel 
 law of the old government, there was 
 much smuggling and a great contraband 
 trade in salt. The salt smugglers used to 
 go about in parties at night, when they 
 made use of a noise imitating the scream 
 of the chouette, or little owl, as a signal 
 to each other to escape the revenue 
 officers if the party was not strong, or to 
 assemble if they felt themselves in suffi- 
 cient force for resistance. Among the 
 insurgents in the departments of the Mor- 
 bihan, of Ille et Vilaine, and of the Lower 
 Loire, there was a great number of these 
 smugglers, who, going about as formerly 
 on marauding parties at night, made use 
 of the same signal to call each other to- 
 gether. This occasioned the republicans 
 to give them the name of chouettes, as an 
 appellation -of contempt ; which, by a 
 transition familiar to the French lan- 
 guage, afterwards changed to chouans. 
 For example, in proper names, Anne is 
 called Nannette, or Nannon ; Jeanne is 
 called Jeannette, or Jeanneton ; Marie, 
 Miette, or Myon. The easy transition, 
 therefore, of chouettes to chouans is ob- 
 vious. 
 
 The chouans were the refuse of the 
 Vendeans, who united with troops of 
 .marauders; and, having no principle of 
 their own, but seeing that the attachment 
 evinced by the Vend6ans to the cause of 
 royalty had acquired them much reputa- 
 
 » Scatchcrd's History of Mpvley, p. 138. 
 
 h. m. 
 Februaiy 8. Daybreaks . . 5 20 
 Sun rises ... 7 15 
 — sets ... 4 45 
 Twilight ends . 6 40 
 The long flowers of the hazel begin to 
 be seen hanging in the hedges. 
 Owls hoot 
 
 Cold Weather. 
 
 AnimalculcB in Frozen Grass. 
 
 — The extreme clearness and tranquillity 
 of the morning had carried me out on my 
 accustomed walk somewhat earlier than 
 usual. The grass was spangled with ten 
 thousand frozen dew drops, which, as the 
 sun-beams slanted against them, reflected 
 all the colors of the rainbow, and repre- 
 sented a pavement covered with brilliants. 
 
 At a sheltered corner of a frozen pond 
 there appeared a pleasing regularity in 
 the rime upon the surface of the ice. I 
 carefully packed a portion of this ice, 
 with the rime upon it, between two par- 
 cels of the frozen grass, and hastened 
 home to examine it. 
 
 What I had intended as the business of 
 the inquiry was, whether the beautifully 
 ramose figures into which the rime had 
 concreted were similar to any of the 
 known figures in flakes of snow. To 
 ascertain this, I cut oft a small portion of 
 the ice, with its ramifications on it, and 
 laid it on a plate of glass before a power 
 ful microscope. My purpose was frus 
 trated. I had the caution to make the 
 observation in a room without a fire; but 
 the air was so warm, that the delicate 
 fibres of the icy efflorescence melted to 
 water before I could adapt the glasses 
 for the observation : the more solid ice 
 that had been their base soon thawed, 
 and the whole became a half-round drop 
 of clear fluid on the plate. 
 
 I was withdrawing my eye, when I 
 
 * Miss riumtrc's Travels in France. 
 
185 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 10 
 
 accidentally discovered motion in the 
 water, and could discern some opaque 
 and moveable spots in it. I adapted 
 magnifiers of greater power, and could 
 then distinctly observe that the water, 
 which had become a sea for my observa- 
 tions, swarmed with living inhabitants. 
 Th'e extreme minuteness and delicate 
 frame of these tender animalculse, one 
 would imagine, must have rendered them 
 liable to destruction from the slightest 
 injuries; but, on the contrary, that they 
 were hardy beyond imagination, has been 
 proved. The heat of boiling water will 
 not destroy the tender frames of those 
 minute eels found in the blight of corn ; 
 and here I had proof that animalculae of 
 vastly minuter structure, and finer, are 
 not to be hurt by being frozen up and 
 embodied in solid ice for whole nights, 
 and probably for whole weeks together. 
 
 I put on yet more powerful glasses, 
 which, at the same time that they disco- 
 vered to the eye the amazing structure of 
 the first-mentioned animalculae, produced 
 to view myriads of smaller ones of dif- 
 ferent forms and kinds, which had been 
 invisible under the former inagnifiers, but 
 which were now seen sporting and wheel- 
 ing in a thousand intricate meanders. 
 
 I was examining the larger first-dis- 
 covered animalculas, which appeared co- 
 lossal to the rest, and were rolling their 
 vast forms about like whales in the ocean, 
 when one of them, expanding the extre- 
 mity of its tail into six times its former 
 circumference, and thrusting out, all 
 around it, an innumerable series of hairs, 
 applied it closely and evenly to the sur- 
 face of the plate, and by this means 
 attached itself firmly. In an instant the 
 whole mass of the circumjacent fluid, 
 and all within it, was in motion about the 
 head of the creature. The cause was 
 evident : the animal had thnist out, as it 
 ivere, two heads in the place of one, and 
 each of these was furnished with a won- 
 derful apparatus, which, by an incessant 
 rotary motion, made a current, and 
 brought the water in successive quantities, ' 
 fiill of the lesser animals, under a mouth 
 which was between the two seeming heads, 
 so that it took in what it liked of the 
 imaller creatures for its food. The mo- 
 tion and the current continued till the 
 insect had satisfied its hunger, when the 
 >vhole became quiet ; the head-like pro- 
 tuberances were then drawn back, and 
 disappeared, the real head assumed its 
 wonted form, the tail loosened from the 
 
 186 
 
 plate, and recovered its pointed shape; 
 and the animal rolled about as wantonly 
 as the rest of its brethren. 
 
 While my eye was upon this object, 
 other animalculse of the same species 
 , performed the same wonderful operation, 
 which seemed like that of a pair of 
 wheels, such as those of a water-mill, 
 forming a successive current by continual 
 motion : a strict examination explained 
 the apparatus, and showed that it con- 
 sisted of six pairs of arms, capable of 
 expansion and contraction in their breadth, 
 and of very swift movement, which, 
 being kept in continual motion, like that 
 of opening and shutting the human hand, 
 naturally de.scribed a. part of a circle; 
 and, as the creature always expanded 
 them to their full breadth, so, as it shut 
 and contracted them to their utmost nar- 
 rowness again, this contraction drove the 
 water forcibly before them, and they were 
 brought back to their open state without 
 much disturbance to the current. 
 
 This wonderful apparatus was for the 
 service of a creature, a thousand of which 
 would not together be equal to a grain of 
 sand in bigness 1 It is erroneously called 
 the wheel-animal.* 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 '.vrmry 9. Daybreaks . 
 
 . 5 19 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . r 13 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 4 4r 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 41 
 
 Ravens build. 
 
 
 In February, 1766, died, at the extreme 
 age of 110 years, eight months, and four- 
 teen days, in the full enjoyment of every 
 faculty, except strength and quickness of 
 hearing. Cardinal de Salis, Archbishop of 
 Seville. He was of a noble house in the 
 province of Andalusia, and the last sur- 
 viving son of Don Antonio de Salis, his- 
 toriographer to Philip IV. and author of 
 the Conquest of Mexico. — The Cardinal 
 used to tell his friends, when asked what 
 regimen he observed, " By being old 
 when I was young, I find myself young 
 now I am old. I led a sober, studious, 
 but not a lazy or sedentary life. My diet 
 was sparing, thoygh delicate ; my liquors 
 the best wines of Xeres and La Manche 
 
 • Sir John Hill. 
 
187 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 11. 
 
 188 
 
 of which I never excpeded a. pint at g,ny 
 meal, except in cold weather, when I al- 
 lowed, myself a third more. I rode 
 or walked every day, except in rainy wea- 
 ther, when I exercised for a couple of 
 hours. So far I took care of the body j 
 and, as to the mind, I endeavoured to pre- 
 serve it in due temper by a scrupulous 
 obedience to the divine commands, and 
 keeping, as the apostle directs, a con- 
 science void of offence towards God and 
 man. By these innocent means I have 
 arrived at the age of a patriarch with less 
 injury to my health and constitution than 
 many experience at forty. I am now, 
 like the ripe corn, ready for the sickle of 
 death, and, by the mercy of my Redeemer, 
 have strong hopes of being translated into 
 his garner.* 
 
 Age. 
 
 The greatest vice the sages observe in 
 us is, " that our desires incessantly grow 
 young again ; we are always beginning 
 again to live.'' Our studies and desires 
 should sometimes be sensible of old age ; 
 we have one foot in the grave, and yet our 
 appetites and pursuits spring up every 
 day. If we must study, let us follow (hat 
 study which is suitable to our present con- 
 dition, that we may be able to answer as • 
 he did, who, being asked to what end he 
 studied in his decrepid age, answered, 
 " That I may go the better off the stage, 
 at greater ease." — Montaigne. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Vebruary \0. Daybreaks . . 5 17 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 11 
 
 — sets ... 4 49 
 
 Twiligljt ends . 6 43 
 
 Frogs breed, and croak. 
 
 dFttVMHW! 11. 
 
 1763. February 11. William Shen- 
 stone, the poet of" the Leasowes" in War- 
 wickshire, and author of "the School- 
 mistress," died, aged 49, broken-spirited, 
 and, perhaps, broken-hearted. He wrote 
 pastoral poetry for fame, which was not 
 awarded to him by his contemporaries, — 
 received promises of political patronage, 
 which were not fulfilled,— omitted, from 
 prudential motives, to marry a lady whom 
 he loved,— was seduced Jn to a passion for 
 landscape gardening— and ruined his do- 
 
 mestic affairs. He retired into the country, 
 and could not bear solitude, — expended 
 his means on planting^ his grounds, — la- 
 mented that his house was not fit to 
 receive " polite friends," were they dis- 
 posed 16 visit him, — and courted, as he 
 tells us, the society of "persons who will 
 despise you for the want of a good set of 
 chairs, or an uncouth fire-shovel, at the 
 same time that they cannot taste any excel- 
 lence in a mind that overlooks those 
 things." He forgot that a mind which 
 overlooks those things must also afford 
 to overlook such persons, or its prospect 
 of happiness is a dream. He writes of 
 himself an irrefutable truth : — « One loses 
 much of one's acquisitions in virtue by an 
 hour's converse with such as judge of 
 merit by money ; " and, he adds, " I am 
 now and then impelled by the social pas- 
 sion to sit half-an-hour in my own 
 kitchen." Johnson says, " his death was 
 probably occasioned by his anxieties. He 
 was a lamp that spent its oil in blazing." 
 It has been said of Shenstone, that " he 
 should have burnt most of what he wrote, 
 and printed most of what he spoke." 
 From such a conflagration, Charles Lamb 
 and Crabbe, would have snatched Shen- 
 stone's " Schoolmistress." 
 
 Gents, Mag. 
 
 Economy, arid Ificurism. 
 In a letter from lady Luxborough to 
 her friend Shenstone, concerning the poet's 
 money affairs, there is a capital anecdote 
 of king George I. She says, " Had 
 Shakspeare had to gather rents, he would 
 rot have said. 
 
 For who so firm that cannot be seduced ? 
 since your half day in endeavouring to 
 seduce your tenant into paying you for 
 half-a-year was ineffectual, and as my 
 labors that way are as vain. My success 
 in recovering money is very similar to 
 yours ; and, if what you say about the 
 butter-dish and sluice is true, as to you, 
 it is no less so as to me. The parallel 
 between us may be carried farther: for 
 I am as backward as you, at wringing 
 from the hard hands of peasants their vile 
 trash ; nor could I ever be forced, even 
 by experience, into a proper veneration 
 for sixpence; or have the foresight to 
 nurse fortune ; but, however, to eat one's 
 cake when one is a hungered is most 
 sweet. The late king George was fond of 
 peaches stewed in brandy, in a particular 
 manner, which he had tasted at my 
 father's ; and ever after, till his death, mv 
 
189 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 12. 
 
 190 
 
 mamma furnished him with a sufficient 
 quantity to last the year round — he eating 
 two every night. This little present he 
 took kindly ; but one season proved fatal 
 to fruit-trees, and she could present his 
 majesty but with half the usual quantity, 
 desiring him to use economy, for they 
 would barely serve him the year at one 
 each night. Being thus forced by neces- 
 sity to retrench, he said he would then 
 eat two every other night, and valued 
 himself upon having mortified himself 
 less than if he had yielded to their 
 regulation of one each night; which, I 
 suppose, may be called a compromise 
 between economy and epicurism," 
 
 h. m. 
 
 February \\. Daybreaks . . 5 15 
 
 Sun rises ..710 
 
 — sets ... 4 50 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 45 
 
 Rooks build 
 
 ^jBtuan> 12. 
 
 FONTHILL. 
 
 As relating to this day, a newspaper of 
 1793 contains the following paragraph : 
 
 " Feb. 12, 1775— Fonthill burnt, with 
 a loss, on the lowest computation, of 
 £30,000 sterling. — ^When old Beckford, 
 who was an odd compound of penury and 
 profusion, immediately, — with as little 
 emotion as the duke of Norfolk at Work- 
 sop, — ordered it to be rebuilt with mag- 
 nificence, more expensive than before ; — 
 and yet the same person, when he had 
 the gout, and though he had studied 
 medicine under Boerhaave, literally suf- 
 fered his case to fail, through parsimonious 
 self-denial^ in mere Madeira wine ! 
 
 Kesolve me — which is worse. 
 
 Want with a full, or with an empty purse V 
 
 Chemistby. 
 
 • [For the Year Book.] 
 
 The priihitive meaning and origin of 
 the word chemistry are not known. Some 
 conjecture it to have been derived from 
 the name of one of the first professors of 
 this interesting science, Cham, an eminent 
 Egyptian. The word, we find from 
 Suidas, was used by the Greeks very soon 
 after the death of our Saviour. 
 
 As respects the science, Tubal-^ain, 
 who found out the art of working in 
 
 brass, must have been an able cheiriist; 
 for it is impossible to work on this metal 
 without first knowing the art of refining it. 
 The physicians who were ordered to 
 embalm the body of the patriarch Jacob 
 were skilled in medicinal chemistry. 
 
 Cleopatra proved to the royal Anthony 
 herknowledge of the science by dissolving 
 a pearl of great value in his presence. 
 
 We are informed by Pliny, that Caius, 
 the emperor, extracted gold from orpiment. 
 An author of the fourth century speaks 
 of the science of alchemy as understood at 
 that time. — The learned " Baron Roths- 
 child " appears to be one of the greatest 
 followers of this delightful employment 
 in our days. 
 
 The attempt to make gold was prohi- 
 bited by pope John XXII. If we may 
 judge from certain episcopal manipula- 
 tions, it is not in our days considered cul' 
 pable. 
 
 Hippocrates was assiduous in his culti- 
 ation of chemistry. 
 
 Helen (how I should love the science 
 if it had such followers now !)is introduced 
 by Homer as administering to Telemachus 
 a medical preparation of opium. 
 
 Gcber in the seventh century wrote se- 
 veral chemical works. 
 
 Roger Bacon in the thirteenth century 
 cultivated chemistry with great success. 
 Why does not Hogg follow in the foot- 
 steps of his " great ancestor ?" 
 
 It is said that the Hottentots know how 
 to melt copper and iron ; a curious fact, 
 if true, as it indicates more civilization in 
 science than in manners. 
 
 The science was introduced by the 
 Spanish Moors of Spain into Europe. 
 
 John Becher laid the foundation of the 
 present system. 
 
 Miss Benger tells of a professor in a 
 Northern university who, in making a 
 chemical experimeiit, held a phial which 
 blew into a hundred pieces. " Gentlemen," 
 said the doctor, " I have made this expe- 
 riment often with this very same phial, 
 and it never broke in this manner before." 
 A chemical operation serves the turn of 
 Butler in his Hudibras : — 
 Love is a fire that bums and sparkles 
 In men as nat'rally as in charcoals^ 
 Which sooty chemists stop in holes 
 When out of wood they extract coals ; 
 So lovers should their passions choke, 
 That though they burn they may not smoke. 
 
 Chemistry received a noble compli- 
 ment from M. Le Sage, who makes the 
 devil upon two sticks inform Don Cleofas 
 
191 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 13. 
 
 132 
 
 that he is the god Cupid, and the intro- 
 ducer of chemistry into the world. ^ 
 
 Ladies who deign to read so far — blight 
 eyes 1 — I cry you mercy : I have done. 
 
 February \'i. Daybreaks . 
 Sun rises 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 The toad makes a noise. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 5 14 
 7 8 
 4 52 
 
 6 46 
 
 dF^tntaty 13. 
 
 The Season. 
 
 About this time all nature begins to 
 revivify. . ' 
 
 The green woodpecker is heard in the 
 woods. 
 
 The woodlark, one of our earliest and 
 sweetest songsters, renews his note. 
 
 Rooks begin to pair. 
 
 Missel-thrushes pair. 
 
 The thrush sings. 
 
 The yellowhammer is heard. 
 
 The chaffinch sings. 
 
 Turkeycocks strutt and gobble. 
 
 Partridges begin to pair. 
 
 The house-pigeon has young. 
 
 Field-crickets open their holes. 
 
 Moles are busy below the earth. 
 
 Gnats play about, and insects swarm 
 under sunny hedges. 
 
 the heavier, and he broke down under it. 
 That which helps one man may hmder 
 another. . 
 
 Be cautious in giving advice ; and con- 
 sider before you adopt advice. 
 
 Indolence is a stream which flows 
 slowly on, but yet undermines the founda- 
 tion of evqry virtue. — Spectator; 
 
 Eet us manage our time as well as we 
 can, there will yet remain a great deal that 
 will be idle and ill employed. — Montaigne. 
 
 A necessary part of good manners is a 
 punctual observance of time, at our own 
 dwellings, or those of others,' or at third 
 places : whether upon matters of civility, 
 business, or diversion. If you duly ob- 
 serve time, for the service of another, it 
 doubles the obligation : if upon your own 
 account, it would be manifest folly, as well 
 as ingratitude, to neglect it: if both are 
 concerned, to make your equal or inferior 
 to attend on you, to his own disadvantage, 
 is pride and injustice. — Swift. 
 
 Lord Coke wrote the subjoined distich, 
 which he religiously observed in the di>- 
 'tribution of his time : 
 
 Six hours to sleep — to law's grave study six ; 
 Four spend in prayer — the rest to nature fix. 
 
 Sir William Jones, a wiser economist of 
 the fleeting hours of life, amended the 
 sentiment in the following lines : — 
 
 Seven hours to law — to soothing slumber seven ; 
 Ten to the world allot : and ALL to heaven. 
 
 NOTE.— 
 
 Knowledge is treasure, but judgment is 
 the treasury. 
 
 Want of knowledge, and due consider- 
 ation, cause all the unhappiness a man 
 brings upon himself. 
 
 A man void of sense ponders all night 
 long, and his mind wanders without 
 ceasing : but he is weary at the point of 
 day, and is no wiser than he was over- 
 night. — 'Runic. 
 
 Form is good, but not formality. — Venn. 
 
 Pause, before you follow example. A 
 mule laden with salt, and an ass laden 
 with wool, went over a brook together. 
 By chance the mule's pack became wetted, 
 the salt melted, and his burden became 
 lighter. After they had passed, the mule 
 told his good fortune to the ass, who, 
 thinking to speed as well, wetted his pack 
 M the next water ; but his load became 
 
 Keep an exact account of your daily 
 expenses, and, at the end of every week, 
 consider what you can save the next. 
 
 Send your son into the world with good 
 principles, a good temper, a good educa- 
 tion, and habits of industry and order, 
 and he will work his way. 
 
 Nature supplies what it absolutely 
 needs. Socrates, seeing a heap of trea- 
 sure, jewels, and costly furniture, carried 
 in pomp through the city, said, " How 
 manythings dol not desire!" — Montaigne. 
 
 February 13. 
 
 ■ ; v-i^ 
 
 h. in. 
 
 5 12 
 
 r 6 
 
 4 54 
 
 6 48 
 
 Day breaks . 
 Sun rises 
 — sets ; . 
 Twilight ends 
 Scotch crocus flowers, with pale whitish 
 petals striped with purple. 
 
 Polyanthus flowers, if mild. The many 
 hundred vaiieties of this plant are sup- 
 posed to come from the common prim- 
 rose, or from that and the cowslip. 
 
193 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— FEBRUARY 13. 
 
 194 
 
 OLD GROTTO IN. THE CITY OF LONDON. 
 
 On information tViat some curious sub- 
 terranean remains existed in the premises 
 of Messrs. Kelt and Rolls, at their whole- 
 sale grindery and nail warehouse, No. 1, 
 Old Fish Street, permission was asked 
 there, to inspect the place, and obligingly 
 allowed. 
 
 The house forms the south-west corner 
 of the street. In the floor of the shop is 
 a trap-door, which, on being pulled up, 
 allowed a friend who is an artist to de- 
 scend with me, by a step ladder, into a 
 large cellar, through which we went with 
 lighted candles, southerly, to another 
 cellar about fourteen feet wide, brick - 
 arched from the ground, and used as a 
 depository for old packing cases and 
 other lumber, but artificially groined and 
 ornamented from the bottom to the roof 
 with old shell work, discolored by damp 
 and the dust of age. At the end we came 
 to a doorway, to which a door had at one 
 lime been attached, and entered the 
 
 Vol. I.— 7. 
 
 apartment which is represented in the 
 above engraving, from a drawing takeii 
 on the spot by my friend while we re- 
 mained. 
 
 The legend concerning the apartment 
 shown by the print is, that in the catholic 
 times it was used for a place of worship ; 
 and, though now below the surface of the 
 earth, was level with the grass or lawn of 
 a garden, which is at this time covered 
 with old buildings. 
 
 On going into the apartment f.-om the 
 only entrance, which is behind the figure 
 holding the torch, and could not be shown 
 in the engraving, it appeared to be a 
 handsome grotto with a recess on both 
 the right and left hand side. The en- 
 trance to the recess on the right is shown 
 in the print on the right hand of the torch- 
 bearer. These recesses withinside widen 
 to the width of the grotto. The back of 
 the grotto is occupied by a projecting 
 kind of arched shrine work, covered with 
 
 H 
 
195 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 196 
 
 different shells. Th'e space under and 
 wilhin the sides of the canopy is curiously 
 inlaid with small shells, cowries, and 
 others of different kinds, and small peb- 
 bles ; a formal ornament of this kind in 
 the centre is supposed to represent a 
 crucifix, but the arms of the cross are ill 
 defined, and not clear to make out. The 
 apartment thus fitted up is about eight 
 feet square and six feet high, and i3 co- 
 vered at the sides and top entirely with 
 shells fancifully disposed. In different 
 parts there are several niches, and a few 
 small indented circles, similar to that 
 between the entrance to the right hand 
 recess and the wall, as shown in the 
 print: these circles probably contained 
 looking-glasses. There are rich bosses of 
 shell-work, in the form of clusters of 
 grapes, tastefully depending from different 
 parts of the ceiling, and so firmly at- 
 tached to it as not to be detached without 
 great force. The place is surprisingly 
 perfect : by cleaning, and a few needful 
 reparations, it might be restored to its 
 original appearance. 
 
 It is hot easy to determine the precise 
 age of this very interesting structure. 
 There is scarcely room to believe that 
 such a place escaped the ravages of the 
 great fire of London in 1666 ; yet its ap- 
 pearance is of earlier date : and, if the 
 story be true that its floor was on a 
 level with a grass plat, such a garden 
 could only have existed before, that 
 period, and the ground must afterwards 
 have been raised to the level of the houses 
 now erected, which render the grotto 
 subterranean. It is worthy of remark 
 that, at one part, water oozes, and forms 
 stalactytes, or icicle-shaped petrifactions : 
 one or two in an incipient state crumbled 
 between the fingers. 
 
 As a mere artificial curiosity, though 
 not perhaps as a work of antiquity, this 
 grotto, in the heart of the city, seemed so 
 remarkable as to deserve the present ac- 
 count. Being upon private business- 
 premises it cannot be inspected, and 
 therefore the/public must rest satisfied 
 with this notice of its existenee. 
 
 Mr. Leigh Hunt's paper in the " In- 
 dicator " contains the following verses by 
 Drayton — 
 
 To his Valentine. 
 
 Muse, bid the morn awake. 
 
 Sad winter now declines. 
 Each bird doth cboose a mate. 
 
 This day's St. Valentine's ; 
 For that good bishop's sake 
 Get up, and let ua see. 
 What beauty it shall be, 
 That fortune us assigns. 
 
 But lo, in happy hour. 
 
 The place wherein she lies, 
 In yonder climbing tow'r. 
 
 Gilt by the glittering rise ; 
 O Jove ! that in a show'r. 
 As' once that thund'rer did, 
 When he in drops lay hid. 
 That 1 could her surprise. 
 
 Her canopy I'll draw. 
 
 With spangled plumes bedight. 
 No mortal ever saw 
 
 So ravishing a sight ; 
 That it the gods might awe. 
 And pow'rfully transpierce 
 The globy universe. 
 
 Out-shooting ev'ry light. 
 
 My lips I'll softly lay 
 
 Upon her hcav'nly cheek, 
 Dy'd like the dawning day. 
 
 As polish'd ivory sleek ; 
 And in her ear I'll say, 
 
 " O thou bright morning-star, 
 'Tis t that come so far. 
 My valentine to seek. 
 
 " Each little bird, this tide. 
 
 Doth choose her loved pheer. 
 Which constantly abide 
 
 In wedlock all the year. 
 As nature is their guide : 
 So may we two be true. 
 This year, nor change for new. 
 As turtles coupled were. — 
 
 " Let's laugh at them that choose 
 
 Their valentines by lot. 
 To wear their names that use. 
 
 Whom idly they have got : 
 Such poor choice we refuse. 
 Saint Valentine befriend ; 
 We thus this morn may spend. 
 Else, Muse, awake her not." 
 
 dFcfiruarg 14. 
 
 Valentine's Day. 
 
 Relative to the origin and usages of 
 St. Valentine's day, there is so much in 
 the Every Day Book, that little of that 
 kind remains to add. 
 
 The earliest poetical valentines are by 
 Charles, duke of Orleans, who *as taken 
 prisoner atthebattlcof Agincourt,in 1415. 
 The poems were chiefly. written in En- 
 gland, and during his confinement in the 
 Tower of London. They are contained 
 in a large, splendid, folio MS., among the 
 
i9r 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 198 
 
 king's MSS. at the British Museum. 
 Some of these compositions are rondeaus 
 
 in the English language, which the duke 
 
 had su£Bcient leisure to acquaint himself 
 with during his captivity. A translation 
 of one of his pieces, although not a 
 valentine, is introduced as suited to the 
 season. 
 
 Well thou showest, gracious spring. 
 What fair works thy hand can bring ; 
 Winter makes all spirits weary. 
 Thine it is to make them merry : 
 At thy coming, instant he 
 And his spiteful followers flee. 
 Forced to quit their rude uncheering 
 At thy bright appearing. 
 
 Fields and trees will £^ed grow. 
 Winter-dad, with beards of snow. 
 And so rough, so rainy he. 
 We must to the fireside flea ; 
 There, in dread of out-door weather, 
 Sculk, like moulting birds, together : 
 But thou com'st — all nature cheering 
 By thy bright appearing. 
 
 Winter yon bright sun enshrouds 
 With his mantle of dark clouds ; 
 But, kind Heaven be praised, once more 
 Bursts forth thine enlightening power. 
 Gladdening, brightening all the scene. 
 Proving how vain his work hath been, — 
 Flying at the influence cheering 
 Of thy bright appearing.* 
 
 Mr. Pepys enters in his Diary, that on 
 the 22nd of February, 1661, his wife went 
 to Sir W. Batten's, " and there sat a 
 while," he havirg the day before sent to 
 her "half-a-dozen pair of gloves, and a 
 pair of silk stockings and garters, for her 
 valentines." 
 
 On Valentine's Day 1667, Mr. Pepys 
 says, " This morning came up to my 
 wife's bedside, I being up dressing my- 
 self, little Will Mercer to her valentine, 
 and brought her name written upon blue 
 paper in gold letters, done by himself, 
 very pretty; and we were both well 
 pleased with it. But I am also this year 
 my wife's valentine, and it will cost me 
 £5 ; but that I must have laid out if we 
 had not been valentines." It does not 
 appear, by the by, how Pepys became his 
 " wife's valentine." On the morning fol- 
 lowing he writes down "Pegg Penn is 
 married this day privately," which is a cir- 
 cumstance alluded to the day afterwards : 
 — "I find that Mrs. Pierce's little girl is ray 
 valentine, she having drawn me; which I 
 
 * Lays of the Minnesingers, 286. 
 
 was not sorry for, it easing me of some- 
 thing more that I must have given to 
 others. But here I do first observe the 
 fashion of drawing of mottos as well as 
 names ; so that Pierce, who drew my 
 wife, did draw also a motto, and this girl*^ 
 drew another for me. What mine was I 
 forgot; but my wife's was 'Most cour- 
 teous and most fair ;' which, as it may 
 be used, or an anagram upon each name, 
 might be very pretty. One wonder I ob- 
 served to-day, that there was no music in 
 the morning to call up our new-married 
 people ; wtiich is very mean methinks." 
 
 Mr. Pepys, in the same year, noticing 
 Mrs. Stuart's jewels, says — " The duke of 
 York, being once her valentine, did give 
 her a jewel of about £800 ; and my lord 
 Mandeville, her valentine this year, a 
 ring of about £300." 
 
 In the February of the following year, 
 Mr. Pepys notes down — " This evening 
 my wife did with great pleasure show me 
 her stock of jewels, increased by the ring 
 she hath made lately, as my valentine's 
 gift this year, a Turkey-stone set with 
 diamonds : — with this, and what she had, 
 she reckons that she hath above £150 
 worth of jewels of one kind or other; and 
 I am glad of it, for it is fit the vn-etch 
 should have something to content herself 
 with." The word "wretch " is, here used 
 as a terra of familiar endearment towards • 
 nis wife, for whom he entertained the 
 kindest affection. 
 
 Some verses follow by the earl of 
 Egremont, who was son of Sir William 
 Wyndham, minister to queen Anne. 
 
 The Fair Thief. 
 
 Before the urchin well could go. 
 She stole the whiteness of the snow ; 
 And, more that whiteness to adorn. 
 She stole the blushes of the morn,— 
 Stole all the sweets that ether sheds 
 On primrose buds or violet beds. 
 
 Still, to reveal her artful wiles. 
 She stole the Grraces' silken smiles ; 
 She stole Aurora's balmy breath. 
 And pilfer'd orient pearl for teeth : 
 The cherry, dipt in morning dew. 
 Gave moisture to her lips, and hue. 
 These were her infant spoils, — a store 
 To which in time she added more. 
 At twelve, she stole from Cyprus' queen 
 Her air and love-commanding mien. 
 Stole Juno's dignity, and stole. 
 From Pallas, sense to charm the soul. 
 H 2 
 
190 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 200 
 
 4polIo's wit was next her prey ; 
 Her next, the beam that lights the day. 
 She sung ; — amazed, the Syrens heard 
 And, to assert their voice, appeared. 
 She play'd j — the Muses from the hill 
 Wimder'd who thus had stol'n their skill. 
 Great Jove approv'd her crimes and art. 
 And t'other day she stole my heart ! 
 If lovers, Cupid, are thy care. 
 Exert thy vengeance on this fair. 
 To trial bring her stolen charms. 
 And let her prison be my arms. 
 
 St. Valentine in Scotland. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 In a small village, in the south of Scot- 
 land, I was highly amused with the in- 
 teresting manner in which the young folks 
 celebrate St. Valentine's Day. 
 
 A few years ago, on the afternoon of 
 this day, a slight fall of snow bleached 
 -he landscape with pure white, a severe 
 frost set in, and the sun had dropped be- 
 hind the hills ; the sky was cloudless and 
 deliciously clear. I broke from a hos- 
 pitable roof with a friend for a vigorous 
 walk — 
 
 The moon was bright, and the stars shed a 
 light. 
 
 We found ourselves in an unknown part: 
 — -from a ridge of hills we descended into 
 a wide valley, and an unexpected turn of 
 the footpath brought us suddenly within 
 sigKt of a comfortable-looking lonely 
 cottage, with a very neat plot in front, 
 abounding with kail and winter leeks for 
 ihe barley broth. The roof of rushes, 
 oated with snow, vied with the well 
 white-washed wall. From the lower 
 window a cheerful gleam of bright candle- 
 light was now and then intercepted by 
 stirring inmates. As we drew near, we 
 heard loud peals of laughter, and were 
 curious to know the cause, and anxious to 
 partake of the merriment. We knocked, 
 and announced ourselves as lost strangers 
 and craved hospitality. The " good 
 man " heard our story, welcomed us 
 to a seat beside a blazing Rre of wood 
 and turf, and appeared delighted with 
 our coming. We found ourselves in the 
 house of rendezyous for the lads and 
 lasses of a neighbouring village to cele- 
 brate St. Valentine's Eve. 
 
 Our entrance had damped the plea- 
 santry; and inquisitive eyes wert di- 
 rected towards us. It wa,s our business 
 
 to become familiar with our new ac 
 quaintances, and the pastimes were re- 
 newed. Our sudden appearance had 
 disturbed the progress of the village 
 schoolmaster, who had finished writing on 
 small slips of paper the names of each of 
 the blooming lasses of the village. — Each 
 lad had dictated the name of her he lovecf. 
 These precious slips of paper were now 
 put into a bag and well mixed together, 
 and each youth drew out a ticket, with 
 hope that it might, and fear lest it should 
 not, be the name of his sweet-heart. This 
 was "repeated three times ; the third time 
 was the conclusion of this part of the 
 sport. Some drew beloved names the 
 third time with rapturous joy ; others 
 drew names of certain respectable widows 
 and old ladies of the village, introduced 
 by the art of the schoolmaster, and tlie 
 victims mourned their unpitied derided 
 sufferings. 
 
 After the lasses, the names of the young 
 men were written and drawn by the girU 
 in the same manner, and a threefold suc- 
 cess was secretly hailed as a suretyship 
 of bearing the name of tlie fortunate 
 youth. The drawing of this lottery was 
 succeeded by the essence of amusement, 
 for the "valentines" were to be "relieved." 
 
 The " relieving of the valentine " was a 
 scene of high amusement. Each young 
 man had a right to kiss the girl whose 
 name he drew, and at the same time deliver 
 to her the slip of paper. The mirth of 
 this ceremony was excessive. Those who 
 were drawn, and not present, were to 
 be " relieved " with a gift of inconsider- 
 able value, as a token of regard. 
 
 The evening passed in cheerful revelry 
 till, a late hour. My friend and I had 
 been allowed and pressed to draw, and it 
 was my good fortune to draw three se- 
 veral times the name of one of the party 
 who was " the pride of the village." Of 
 course it was my duty and prerogative to 
 see her home. She was a beautiful girl, 
 and I escorted her with as much gallantry 
 as I could assume. My attentions were 
 pleasing to her, but raised among as- 
 pirants to her favor a jealous dislike to- 
 wards the unknown intruder. 
 
 This custom in the Scottish villages of 
 drawing for valentines, so very similar to 
 the drawing for Twelfth Day King and 
 queen, prevails among a kind and simple- 
 hearted people. May the inhabitants of 
 this village be as happy on St. Valentine's 
 Day a hundred years hence ! 
 
 F. B. 
 
201 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 202 
 
 Valentine's Day. 
 [Communicated by a Lady.j 
 On the fourteenth of February it is 
 customai-y, in many parts of Hertfordshire, 
 for the poor and middling classes of 
 children to assemble together in some 
 part of the town or village where they 
 live, whence they proceed in a body 
 to the house of the chief personage of the 
 place, who throws them wreaths and true 
 lovers' knots from the window, with which 
 they entirely adorn themselves. Two or 
 three of the girls then select one of the 
 youngest amongst them (generally a boy), 
 whom they deck out more gaily than the 
 rest, and, placing him at their head, march 
 forward in the greatest state imaginable, 
 at the same time playfully singing. 
 
 Good morrow to yoa, Valentine ; 
 Curl your locks as I do mine. 
 Two before and three behind. 
 Good morrow to you, Valentine. 
 
 This they repeat under the windows of all 
 the houses they pass, and the inhabitant 
 is seldom known to refuse a mite towards 
 the merry solicitings of these juvenile 
 serenaders. I have experienced much 
 pleasure from witnessing their mirth. 
 They begin as early as six o'clock in the 
 morning. 
 
 On a Valentine's day, being at Uswick, 
 about six miles from Bishop's Stortford, I 
 was awakened from sleep by the laughing 
 voices of a troop of these children. I 
 hastily dressed myself, and threw open the 
 window: it was rather sharp and frosty: 
 the yet sleepless trees were thickly covered 
 with rime, beautifully sparkling in the 
 faint sunbeams, which made their way 
 through the reeking vapours of the moist 
 atmosphere. " To-morrow is come," 
 lisped one of the little ones who stood 
 foremost in the throng ; " to-morrow is 
 come," said he, as soon as I appeared ; 
 and then, joyfully clapping his hands, all 
 joined in the good morrow, which they 
 continued to repeat till their attention 
 was called off by the welcome sound of 
 the falling halfpence on the crisp frozen 
 grass-plot before the house. Away ran 
 some of them under the trees, some down 
 the walks, while others, who appeared to 
 be of a less lively temper, or, perhaps, less 
 avariciously inclined, remained timidly 
 smiling in their old station, and blushing 
 when I urged fhera to follow the rest, 
 who were collecting the scattered dole 
 under the old apple tree. Some were on 
 their knees, others absolutely lying down 
 
 with out-stretched hands, and faces on 
 which were depicted as much earnestness 
 as if the riches of the Valley of Diamonds, 
 which Sinbad tells of, were before them ; 
 while the biggest girls were running round 
 and round, hallooing with all their might, 
 and in vain attempting to beat off the 
 boys, who were greedy graspers of the 
 money. They all returned with flushed 
 faces towards the house, and repeated 
 their "to-morrow is come;" and, once 
 more, I was going to say the " golden" 
 drops saluted their delighted ears : again 
 they scrambled, and again I threw, till 
 my stock of half-pence being exhausted, 
 and having nothing further to beh"ld, I 
 closed the window, and attended the 
 welcome summons of my maid, who just 
 then entered the room with the agreeable 
 news " the breakfast is ready, rniss, and 
 there is a nice fire in the parlour." 
 " Farewell then, pretty children," I cried, 
 " and the next year, and the next, may 
 you still have the same smiling faces, and 
 the same innocent gaiety ^of heart; and 
 may I, on the morning of the next four- 
 teenth of February, be half as pleasantly 
 employed as in listening to your cheerfu , 
 ' good-morrows.' " M. A. 
 
 The Valentine Wreath. 
 
 Rosy red the hills appear 
 
 With the light of morning, 
 
 Beauteous clouds, in aether clear. 
 
 All the east adorning ; 
 
 White through mist the meadows shine . 
 
 Wake, my love, my Valentine \ 
 
 For thy locks of raven hue. 
 
 Flowers of hoar-frost pearly. 
 
 Crocus-cups of gold and blue. 
 
 Snow-drops drooping early. 
 
 With Mezereon sprigs combing 
 
 Rise, my love, my Valentine '. 
 
 O'er the margin of the flood. 
 
 Pluck the daisy peeping ; 
 
 Through the covert of the wood. 
 
 Hunt the sorrel creeping ; 
 
 With the little celandine 
 
 Crown my love, my Valentine. 
 
 Pansies, on theirlowly stems 
 
 Scatter'd o'er the fallows ; 
 
 Hazel-buds -with crimson gems. 
 
 Green and glossy sallows ; 
 
 Tufted moss and ivy-twine. 
 
 Deck my love, my Valentine. 
 
 Few and simple flow'rets these ; 
 
 Yet, to me, less glorious 
 
 Garden-beds and orchard-trees 1 
 
 Since this wreath victorious 
 
 Binds you now for ever mine, 
 
 O my Love, my Valentine. 
 
 Mimlgomery. 
 
203 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 204 
 
 February 14. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 5 10 
 7 4 
 4 56 
 
 6 50 
 there are 
 
 Day breaks . 
 Sun rises 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 Noble liverwort flowers ; 
 three varieties ; the blue, the purple, and 
 the white. 
 
 Common yellow crocuses flower aDun 
 dantly. 
 
 ;iFffiniatp 15. 
 
 A BUSINESS LETTER. 
 
 The following original epistle, which 
 
 has not before appeared in any work, is 
 
 communicated from a correspondenJ, wlio 
 
 is curious in his researches and collections. 
 
 [Address on the back. J 
 
 « For 
 
 Mr. John Stokes. No. 5 in 
 Hind's Court Fleet Street 
 
 Single ' London 
 
 And Post Paid. 15. Feb. 1809. 
 [Contents.] 
 '■ St. Asaph iQ Wales, Feb, 15, 1809. 
 " Mr. Stokes, Sir 
 
 " On the receipt of this, please to call and 
 get nine shillings, a balance due to me 
 from Mr. Warner, at 16. Cornhill Lottery 
 office, which he will give you, and for 
 which send constantly, every week, 18 
 of the Mirror Newspapers, directed fair 
 and well, in good writing, to Mr. Kinley, 
 of Crossack, Ballasalla, Isle of Mann. 
 
 " Mrs. Kinley likes your newspaper the 
 best of any, because you often insert 
 accounts of shocking accidents, murders, 
 and other terrible destructions, which so 
 lamentably happen to mankind. As such. 
 Your newspaper is a warning voice, and 
 an admonition for people to watch for 
 their own welfare, and to be aware. All 
 newspapers who are filled with dirty, 
 foolish, sinfull accounts of mean, ill, un- 
 profitable things, which stuff the minds of 
 readers with devilish wickedness, ought 
 to be avoided as devilish, and as soul-de- 
 stroying doctrine. But a newspaper ought 
 to be next unto the blessed godly gospel 
 of our holy Lord and master, Jesus Christ 
 himself, who continually taught and esta- 
 blished the word and works of grace and 
 eternal life, through the holy sanctification 
 of the Holy Ghost, the most holy, blessed, 
 gift of God, the Almighty Abba Father of 
 
 our holy Lord Jesus Christ. When I 
 was in the Isle of Mann, I paid three- 
 pence a-week for one of your papers ; 
 and I let Mrs. Kinleys have it, and, as 
 she has several young sons, your paper 
 would be a blessing to them. And I beg, 
 on Saturday next, you will not fail to 
 begin and send a newspaper every week, 
 and dont miss in any one week, for I want 
 to have them filed, and to have a complete 
 set of them, as I have a great number of 
 the Mirror papers, and I hope to be a 
 constant customer; as such, I beg you 
 will, next Saturday, begin and send a 
 Mirror newspaper every week, and give a 
 good direction on them, and set Mr. 
 Kinley's name quite plain upon the frank, 
 as they are bad, and very bad, readers of 
 writing, at the house where the letters and 
 papers are left at Ballasalla. 
 
 " And, when I get back to the Island, I 
 will take one of your papers for myself, 
 and will send yon more cash in due time. 
 But, at present time, begin 6n next Satur- 
 day, and don't fail, and direct quite plain, 
 in good writing,_/br Mr. Kinley, of Cros- 
 sack, Ballasalla, Isle of Mann. 
 
 N. B. Set two nn's in the word Mann, 
 else they send it to the Isle of Mar, in a 
 mistake. 
 
 "Observe well, you must begin this week, 
 and never miss at all, to send a Mirror 
 paper every week, to the Isle of Mann. 
 Don't miss in any week at all. I have 
 paid the postage of this single letter, and 
 I particularly entreat you to get the nine 
 shillings from Mr. Warner, for which 
 please to begin on next Saturday, and 
 don't neglect to send eighteen successive 
 Mirror newspapers, with a very good di- 
 rection to Mr. Kinley, of Crossack, Hal- 
 lasal/a. Isle of Mann, and I will send 
 cash to you, from the Isle; in due time, 
 for myself for more papers, at the end of 
 the time. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 " E. T. Hadwen, Engineer, &c." 
 
 [Annexed.] 
 
 " St. Asaph in Wales, Feb. 15, 1809- 
 
 « Mr. Warner, of 16 Cornhill. 
 " Esteemed and dear friend. Your'i of 
 1st inst. I got when I came here, with a 
 share in it. I find you to be very honest, 
 honourable, upright, and just, and you 
 have used me better than any other lottery 
 office ever yet did before. Please to give 
 the sum of nine shillings, the balance due 
 to me, unto Mr. John Stokes, the pub- 
 
205 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15- 
 
 20t> 
 
 lisher of the Mirror newspriper, as I want 
 him to send eighteen newspapers to the 
 Isle of Mann for it; and so I beg you 
 will let Mr. Stokes have that balance when 
 he calls or sends ; and so, wishing you 
 every blessing for ever and ever, for our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, his blessed, his holy 
 blessed sake, I am, dear Mr. Warner, your 
 entire, and eternal true honest friend, 
 " E. T. Hadwen, Engineer. 
 
 " I could like to have a share of No. 103, 
 one-sixteenth of it. If you have it, I beg 
 you will save one-sixteenth of it for me, 
 as I expect to be in London before the 
 drawing is over, and I will take it when I 
 come. You need not write to me about 
 it, as I actually mean to call when I come, 
 &c. And so I wish you a good farewell 
 i»t the present time." 
 
 Old Letters — 
 
 I know of nothing more calculated to 
 bring back the nearly-faded dreams of 
 our youth, the almost-obliterated scenes 
 and passions of our boyhood, and to 
 recal the brightest and best associations 
 of those days 
 
 When the young blood ran riot in the veins, 
 and 
 
 Boyhood made us sanguine — 
 
 nothing more readily conjures up the al- 
 ternate joys and sorrows of maturer years, 
 the fluctuating visions that have floated 
 before the restless imagination in times 
 gone by, and the breathiug forms and in- 
 animate objects that wound themselves 
 around our hearts and became almost 
 necessary to our existence, than the perusal 
 of old letters. They are the memorials 
 of attachment, the records of affection, 
 the speaking-trumpets through which 
 those whom we esteem hail us from afar; 
 they seem hallowed by the brother's grasp, 
 the sister's kiss, the father's blessing, and 
 the mother's love. When we look on 
 them, the friends, whom dreary seas and 
 distant leagues divide from us, are again 
 in our presence; we see their cordial 
 looks, and hear their gladdening voices 
 once more. The paper has a tongue in 
 every character, it contains a language in 
 iis very silentness. They speak to the 
 souls of men like a voice from the grave, 
 and are the links of that chain which con- 
 nects with the hearts and sympathies of 
 the living an evergreen remembrance of 
 the dead. I have one at this moment 
 before me, which (although tiroe has in a 
 
 degree softened the regret I felt at the 
 loss of him who penned it) I dare scarcely 
 look upon. It calls back too forcibly to 
 my remembrance its noble-minded au- 
 thor — the treasured friend of my earliest 
 and happiest days— the sharer of my pu- 
 er.le but innocent joys. I think of him 
 as he then was, the free — the spirited — 
 the gay — the welcome guest in every 
 circle where kind feeling had its weight, 
 or frankness and honesty had influence; 
 and in an instant comes the thought of 
 what he now is, and pale and ghastly 
 images of death are hovering round me. 
 1 see him whom I loved, and prized, and 
 honored, shrunk into poor and wasting 
 ashes. I mark a stranger closing his lids 
 — a stranger following him to the grave — 
 and I cannot trust myself again to open 
 his last letter. It was written but a short 
 time before he fell a victim to the yellow 
 fever, in the West Indies, and told me, in 
 the feeling language of Moore, that 
 
 Far beyond the western sea 
 
 Was one whose heart remember'd me. 
 
 On hearing of his death I wrote some 
 stanzas which I have preserved — not out 
 of any pride in the verses themselves, but 
 as a token of esteem for him to whom 
 they were addressed, and as a true tran- 
 script of my feelings at the time they were 
 composed. To those wno have never 
 loved nor lost a friend, they will appear 
 trivial and of little worth ; but those who 
 have cherished and been bereft of some 
 object of tenderness will recur to their own 
 feelings ; and, although they may not be 
 able to praise the poetry, will sympathise 
 with and, do justice to the sincerity of my 
 attachment and affiictioUi 
 Stanzas, 
 
 Farewell ! farewell ! for thee arise 
 
 The bitter thoughts that pass not o'er ; 
 
 And friendship's tears, and friendship's sighs. 
 Can never reach thee more ; 
 
 For thou art dead , and all are vain 
 
 To call thee back to earth again ; 
 
 And thou hast died where stranger's feet 
 Alone towards thy grave could bend ; 
 
 And that last duty, sad, but sweet. 
 Has not been destined for thy friend : 
 
 He was net near to calm thy smart. 
 
 And press thee to his bleeding heart. 
 
 He was not near, in that dark hour 
 When licasbn fled her ruined shrine. 
 
 To soothe with Pity's gentle power. 
 And mingle his faint sighs with thine •, 
 
 And pour the parting tear to thee. 
 
 As pledge of his fidelity. 
 
207 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 208 
 
 He was not near when thou wert borne 
 
 By others to thy parent earth. 
 To think of former days, and mourn. 
 
 In silence, o'er departed worth ; 
 And seek thy cold and cheerless bed. 
 And breathe a blessing for the dead. 
 Destroying Death ! thou hast one link 
 
 That hound me in this world's frail chain : 
 And now I stand on life's rough brink. 
 
 Like one whose heart is cleft in iwain ;. 
 Save that, at times, a thought will steal 
 To tell me that it still can feel. 
 Oh ! what delights, what pleasant hours 
 
 In which all joys were wont to blend. 
 Have faded now— and all Hope's flowers 
 
 Have withered with my youthful friend. 
 Thou feel'st no pain within the tomb — 
 'Tis theirs alone who weep thy doom. 
 Long wilt thou be the cherished theme 
 
 Of all their fondness — all their praise ; 
 In daily thought and nightly dream. 
 
 In crowded halls and lonely ways ; 
 And they will hallow every scene 
 Where thou in joyous youth hast been. 
 
 Theirs is the grief that cannot die. 
 And in their heart will be the strife 
 
 That must remain with memory. 
 Uncancelled from the book of life. 
 
 Their breasts will be the mournful urns 
 
 Where sorrow's incense ever bums. 
 
 But there are other letters, the perusal 
 of which makes us feel as if reverting 
 from the winter of the present to the 
 spring-time of the past. "These are from 
 friends whom we have long known and 
 whose society we still enjoy. There is a 
 charm in contrasting the sentiments of 
 their youth with those of a riper age, or, 
 rather, in tracing the course of their 
 ideas to their full development ; for it is 
 seldom that the feelings we entertain in 
 the early part of our lives entirely change 
 — they merely expand, as the full-grown 
 tree proceeds from the shoot, or the flower 
 from the bud. We love to turn from the 
 formalities and cold politeness of the 
 world to the " Dear Tom " or " Dear 
 Dick" at the head of such letters. There 
 is something touching about it — some- 
 thing that awakens a friendly warmth in 
 the heart. It is shaking the hand by 
 proxy — a vicarious " good morrow." I 
 have a whole packet of letters from my 
 
 friend G , and there is scarcely a 
 
 dash or a comma in them that is not cha- 
 racteristic of the man. Every word bears 
 the impress of freedom — the true currente 
 calamo stamp. He is the most convivial 
 of letter-writers — the heartiest of epistlers. 
 Then there is N ^ who always seems 
 
 to bear in mind that it is "belter to be 
 brief than tedious ;" for it must indeed be 
 an important subject that would elicit 
 from him more than three lines : nor hath 
 his rib a whit more of the cacoelhes scribendi 
 abouther — one would almost suppose they 
 were the hero and heroine of an anecdote 
 1 remember somewhere to have heard, of a 
 gentleman wlio, by mere chance, strolled 
 into a coffee-house, where he met with a 
 captain of his acquaintance on the poinf 
 of sailing to New York, and from whom 
 lie received an invitation to accompany 
 him. This he accepted, taking care, 
 however, to inform his wife of it, which he 
 did in these terms : — 
 
 " Dear Wife, 
 
 I am going to America. 
 
 Yours truly,t 
 
 Her answer was not at all inferior 
 either in laconism or tenderness : — 
 
 " Dear Husband, 
 
 A pleasant voyage. 
 
 Yours, &c." 
 
 There are, again, other letters, differing 
 in character from all I have mentioned — 
 fragments saved from the wreck of esrly 
 love— reliques of spirit-buoying hopes — 
 remembrancers of joy. They, perchance, 
 remind us that love has set in tears— that 
 hopes were cruelly blighted — that our 
 joy is fled for ever. When we look on 
 them we seera to feel that 
 
 ' ^No time 
 
 Can ransom us from sorrow. 
 
 We fancy ourselves the adopted of 
 Misery — Care's lone inheritors. The 
 bloom has passed away from our lives.* 
 
 h. m» 
 February 15. Day breaks ..59 
 Sun rises ..72 
 — sets ... 4 58 
 Twilight ends . 6 51 
 Cloth of gold crocus flowers, with 
 petals of a deep orange-yellow inside, 
 and stripes of shining deep reddish-brown 
 outside. 
 
 Snow-drops and crocuses are by this 
 time abundant ; and with the hellebores, 
 hepaticas, and polyanthuses, contribute 
 greatly to enliven the garden. 
 
 » The Gondola. 
 
209 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 210 
 
 PHEBE HASSEL, aged 106. 
 
 In looking over the drawings of Mr. 
 Chatfield, the artist,* I found a fine full- 
 sized portrait of Phebe Hassel, which 
 that gentleman sketched at Brighton in 
 her lifetime, and has obligingly copied for 
 tte engraving before the reader. 
 
 This remarkable female was well known 
 in Brighton, where she sold fruit at a stall 
 in the street, and, when more than a 
 century old, frequently afforded • proof, to 
 any who offended her, of the determined 
 spirit which animated her to extraordinary 
 adventures in youth. The annexed ex- 
 tract from a private MS. Journal relates 
 an interesting interview with her in her 
 last illness. 
 
 " Brighton, Sep. 22, 1821 . I have seen 
 to-day an extraordinary character in the 
 
 * No. 66, Judd Street, Brunswick Square. 
 
 person of Phebe Hassei, a poor woman 
 stated to be 106 years of age. It appears 
 that she was born in March 1715, and, at 
 fifteen, formed a strong attachment to 
 Samuel Golding, a private in the regi- 
 ment called Kirk's Lambs, which was 
 ordered to the West Indies. She deter- 
 mined to follow her lover, enlisted into the 
 5th regiment foot, commanded by general 
 Pearce, and embarked after him. She 
 served there five years without discovering 
 herself to any one. At length they were 
 ordered to Gibraltar. She was likewise 
 at Montserrat, and would have been in 
 action, but her regiment did not reach the 
 place till the battle was decided. — Her 
 lover was wounded at Gibraltar and sent 
 to Plymouth J she then waited on the ge- 
 neral's lady at Gibraltar, disclosed her 
 sex, told her story, and was immediately 
 sent home. On her arrival, Phebe went 
 
211 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.- -FEBRUARY 16. 
 
 213 
 
 to Samuel Goldiiig- in the hospital, nursed 
 him there, and, when he came out, mar- 
 ried and lived with him for twenty years : 
 he had a pension from Chelsea. — After 
 Golding's death, she married Hassel, has 
 had many children, and has been many 
 years a widow. Her eldest son was a 
 sailor with admiral Norris : he afterwards 
 went to the East Indies, and, if he is now 
 alive, must be nearly seventy years of age. 
 The rest of her family are dead. At an 
 advanced age she earned a scanty liveli- 
 hood at Brighton by selling apples and 
 gingerbread on the Marine Parade. 
 
 " I saw this woman to-day in her bed, to 
 which she is confined from having lost the 
 use of her limbs. She has even now, old 
 and withered as she is, a fine character of 
 countenance, and I should judge, from her 
 Ijresent appearance, must have had a fine 
 though perhaps a masculine style of head 
 when young. — I have seen many a woman, 
 at the age of sixty or seventy, look older 
 than she does under the load of 106 years 
 of human life. Her cheeks are round 
 and seem firm, though ploughed with 
 many a small wrinkle. Her eyes, though 
 their sight is gone, are large and well- 
 formed. As soon as it was announced 
 that somebody had come to see her, she ^ 
 broke the silence of her solitary thoughts 
 and spoke. She began in a complaining 
 tone, as if the remains of a strong and 
 restless spirit were impatient of the 
 prison of a decaying and weak body. 
 " Other people die and I cannot," she 
 said. Upon exciting the recollection of 
 her former days, her energy seemed 
 loused, and she spoke with emphasis. 
 Her voice was strong for an old person ; 
 and I could easily believe her when, upon 
 being asked if her sex was not in danger 
 of being detected by her voice, she replied 
 that she always had a strong and manly 
 voice. She appeared to take a pride in hav- 
 ing kept her secret, declaring that she tojd 
 it to no man, woman, or child, during the 
 time she was in the army ; " for you know. 
 Sir, a drunken man and a child always 
 tell the truth.— But," said she, "I told my 
 secret to the ground. I dug a hole that 
 would hold a gallon, and whispered it 
 there." While I was with her the flies 
 annoyed her extremely : she drove them 
 away with a fan, and said they seemed to 
 smell her out as one that was going to the 
 grave. She showed me a wound she had 
 received in her elbow^by a bayonet. She 
 lamented the error of her former ways, 
 but excused it by saying, " when you are 
 
 at Rome, you must do as Rome does." 
 When she could not distinctly hear what 
 was said, she raised herself in the bed 
 and thrust her head forward with im- 
 patient energy. She said, when the king 
 saw her, he called her "a jolly old fellow." 
 Though, blind, she could discern a glim- 
 mering light, and I was toJd would fre- 
 quently state the time of day by the effect 
 of light." 
 
 It was the late king, George IV., who 
 spoke of her as " a jolly old fellow." 
 Phebe was one of his Brighton favorites, 
 he allowed her eighteen pounds a-year, 
 and at her death he ordered a stone in- 
 scribed to her memory to be placed at 
 her grave in Brighton church-yard. She 
 was well known to all the inhabitants of 
 the town, and by most visitors. Many 
 of these testify that she did not always 
 conform to the rules laid down in an old 
 didactic treatise, " On the Government of 
 the Tongue," and that she sometimes 
 indulged in unlicensed potations af- 
 forded by licensed houses. In truth, 
 Phebe Hassel's manners and mind were 
 masculine. She had good natural sense 
 and wit, and was what is commonly 
 called "a character." 
 
 ^e'bvunvp 16. 
 
 1754. Feb. 16. Died, at the age of 81, 
 Dr. Richard Mead, the medical rival of Dr. 
 RatclifFe, and pre-eminently his superior 
 in manners ; for Mead was well-bred and 
 elegant, and Ratcliffe capricious and surly. 
 Dr. Mead introduced the practice of 
 inoculation for the small-pox, and, to 
 prove its efficacy, caused seven criminals 
 to be inoculated. He was a man of taste, 
 and formed expensive collections of coins, 
 medals, sculpture, pictures, prints, and 
 drawings, with a fin;e library of choice 
 books, which were sold after his decease. 
 The catalogue of his pictures, with the 
 prices they produced, is in the British 
 Museum^ 
 
 Pkysiciaks. 
 
 Montaigne says it was an Egyptian 
 law, that the physician, for the first three 
 days, should take charge of his patient at 
 the patient's own peril ; but afterwards at 
 his own. He mentions that, in his time, 
 physicians gave their pills in odd numbers, 
 appointed remarkable days in the year for 
 taking medicine, gathered their simples at 
 certain hours, assumed austere, and even 
 
213 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 17-10. 
 
 214 
 
 severe looks, and prescribed, among their 
 choice drugs, the left foot of a tortoise, 
 the liver of a mole, and blood drawn from 
 under the wing of a white pigeon. 
 
 Februmy 16. Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 
 h. m. 
 5 7 
 7 
 
 — sets ... 5 
 Twilight ends . 6 53 
 The leaves of daffodils, narcissi, and 
 other plants that blow next month, appear 
 above ground. 
 
 1758. Feb. 17. Died, at Bristol, aged 
 78, John Watkins, commonly called 
 Black John. He had supported himself 
 by begging, and frequently lodged at 
 night in a glass-house, although he had a 
 room at a house in Temple Street, where, 
 after his death, was found upwards of two 
 hundred weight of halfpence and silver, 
 besides a quantity of gold, which he had 
 amassed as a public beggar. He came 
 from a respectable family in Gloucester- 
 shire, and was said to have been heir to a 
 considerable estate, but, the possession of 
 it being denied to him, he vowed he would 
 never sha\e till he enjoyed it, and kept 
 his promise to the day of his death. It 
 was easier to keep such a vow, than the 
 resolution of that spendthrift, who, after 
 dissipating his paternal estate, resolved, 
 in the depth of poverty, to regain it; and, 
 by unaided efforts of industry, accom- 
 plished his purpose. The story is in Mr. 
 Foster's eisay " On decision of character," 
 from which an irresolute person may 
 derive large prtfit. 
 
 A perton of undecisive character won* 
 ders how all the embarrassments in the 
 world happened to meet exactly in his 
 way. He thinks what a determined course 
 he would have nm, if his talents, his 
 health, his age, had been different : thus 
 he is occupied, instead of catching with 
 a vigilant eye, and seizing with a strong 
 hand, all the possibilities of his situation. 
 Foster's Essays. 
 
 hi ID, 
 
 February 17. Day breaks ..55 
 
 Siin rises . . 6 58 
 
 — sets ... 5 2 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 55 
 
 The bee begins to appear abroad when 
 
 mild. 
 
 4Fe6ruatfi 18. 
 
 1546. Feb. 18. Martin Luther died, 
 at the age of 63. His life is the history 
 of the age in which he lived j for his career 
 shook the papacy, and agitated every 
 state in Europe. The date of his decease 
 is mentioned, merely to introduce a pas- 
 sage concerning the immutability of truth, 
 which should be for ever kept in the 
 memory, as " a nail in a sure place." — 
 " The important point which Luther in- 
 cessantly labored to establish was, the 
 right of private judgment in matters of 
 faith. To the defence of this proposition, 
 he was at all times ready to devote his 
 learning, his talents, his repose, his cha- 
 racter, and his life ; and the great and 
 imperishable merit of this reformer con- 
 sists in his having demonstrated it by such 
 arguments as neither the efforts of his 
 adversaries, nor his own subsequent 
 conduct, have been able either to refute 
 or invalidate."* 
 
 1639. Feb. 18. Died, at SOyears of age, 
 Thomas Carew, a distinguished poet. 
 He was educated at Corpus Christi Col- 
 lege, Oxford, afterwards greatly improved 
 himself by travel, and Charles L appointed 
 him gentleman of the privy chamber, and 
 sewer in ordinary. He lived in intimacy 
 with most of the poets and wits of his 
 day, particularly with Jonson, Donne, 
 and Suckling. One of his poems imme- 
 diately follows, as a specimen of his 
 manner : 
 
 Persuasions to Love. 
 
 Think not, 'cause men Battering say, 
 Y'are fresh as Aprill, sweet as May, 
 Bright as is the morning-starre, 
 That you are so j or, though you are. 
 Be not therefor^ proud, and deeme 
 All men unworthy your esteeme i 
 Nor let brittle beauty make 
 You your wiser thoughts forsake j 
 For that lovely face will faile ; 
 Beauty's sweet, but beauty's fraile,— -- 
 'Tis sooner past, 'tis sooner done. 
 Than summer's rain, or winter's sun ; 
 Most fleeting when it is most deare ^ 
 'Tis gone while we but say 'tis here. 
 These curious locks, so aptly twin'd. 
 Whose every hair a soul doth bind. 
 Will change their abroun hue, and grow 
 White with cold as winter's snow. 
 That eye, which now is Cupid's nest. 
 Will prove his grave, and all the rest 
 
 * Ruscoe's Leo X., 4to, iv. 47. 
 
215 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 19. 
 
 i216 
 
 Will follow ; in the cheek, chin, nose. 
 Nor lilly shall be found, nor rose ; 
 And v/bat will then become of all 
 Those whom now ^ou servants call 1 
 Like swallows, when your summer's done 
 They'le fly, and seek some warmer sun. 
 Then wisely choose one to your friend 
 Whose love may (when your beauties end) 
 Remain still £i-m ; bo provident, 
 And think, before the summer's spent. 
 Of following winter ; like the ant. 
 In plenty hoard for time of scant. 
 For when the storms of time have mov'd 
 Waves on that cheeke which was belov'd ; 
 When a fair lady's face is pin'd. 
 The yellow spread where red once shin'd ; 
 When beauty, youth, and all sweets leave 
 
 her. 
 Love may return, but lovers never. 
 love me, then, and now begin it. 
 Let us not lose this present minute ; 
 For time and age will worke that wracke. 
 Which time nor age shall nere call back. 
 The snake each yeare fresh skin resumes. 
 And eagles change their aged plumes ; 
 The faded rose each spring receives 
 A fresh red tincture on her leaves : 
 But, if your beauties once decay. 
 You never know a second May. 
 Oh then, be wise, and, whilst your season 
 Affords you days for sport, do reason ; 
 Spend, not in vaine your life's short houre. 
 But crop in time your beauties' flower. 
 Which will away, and doth together 
 Both bud and fade, both blow and wither. 
 
 h. m. 
 February IS. Daybreaks. . 5 3 
 Sun rises . . 6 56 
 — sets ... 5 4 
 Twilight ends . 6 57 
 " February fill dyke," an old proverb, 
 is usually verified about tliis time, by 
 frequent rains, and full streaming ditches. 
 
 In February, 1685-6, Sir John Holt, 
 who had been appointed recorder of 
 liOndon the year before, was knighted by 
 king James II., and. made king's sergeant 
 in 1686, and resigned his recordership in 
 April, 1687. He was one of the men of 
 the robe chosen by the peers at St. 
 .Tames's to assist them in drawing up the 
 conditions on which William III. was 
 admitted to the throne, and in April, 
 1689, was raised to the high oflice of lord 
 chief justice of England. Law and jus- 
 tice were efTectualiy administered when 
 
 he presided in the King's Bench. In the 
 Banbury election case he told the House 
 of Peers that they ought to respect the 
 law which had made them so great, and 
 that he should disregard their decisions. 
 When the speaker of the House of Com- 
 mons, with a select number of members, 
 went in person to the Court of King's 
 Bench to demand his reasons, he an- 
 swered, "I sit here to administer justice; 
 if you had the whole House of Commons 
 in your belly, I should disregard you; and, 
 if you do not immediately retire, I will 
 commit you, Mr. Speaker, and those witli 
 you." Neither his compeers, nor the 
 houses of parliament separately or col- 
 lectively, could intimidate him, and Queen 
 Anne was compelled to dissolve the par7 
 liament to get rid of the question. On a 
 mob assembling before a crimping house, 
 in Holborn, the guards were called out: 
 " Suppose," said he, " the populace will 
 not disperse, what will you do 1" " Fire 
 on them," replied an officer, " as we have 
 orders." " Have you so ! then take no- 
 tice that if one man is killed, and you 
 are tried before me, I will take care that 
 every soldier of your party is hanged." 
 Assembling his tipstaves, and a few con- 
 stables, he explained to the mob the im- 
 propriety of their conduct; promised 
 that justice should be done; and the 
 multitude dispersed. A poor decrepid 
 old woman, charged with witchcraft, was 
 on her trial before him: "she uses a 
 spell," said the witness. "Let me see 
 it." A scrap of parchment was handed 
 to him. "How came you by this?" 
 "A young gentleman, my lord, gave it 
 me, to cure my daughter's ague." " Did 
 it cure her ?" O yes, my lord, and many 
 others." « I am glad of it. — Gentlemen 
 of the Jury, when I was young and 
 thoughtless, and out of money, I, and 
 some companions as unthinking as my- 
 self, went to this woman's house, then a 
 public one ; we had no money to pay our 
 reckoning; I hit upon a stratagem to get 
 off scot free. On seeing her daughter ill, 
 I pretended I had a spell to cure her; I 
 wrote the classic line you see; so that if 
 any one is punishable it is me, not the 
 poor woman the prisoner." She was ac- 
 quitted by the jury and rewarded by the 
 chief justice. He diedMarch 10,1710-1, 
 aged 67; and was buried in the church 
 of Redgrave, in Suffolk.* 
 
 • Noble. 
 
217 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— FEBRUAIIY 20. 
 
 218 
 
 h, m. 
 
 February 19 Day breaks ..51 
 
 Sun rises . . 6 55 
 
 — sets ... 5 5 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 59 
 
 The navelwort, or houndstongae, begins 
 
 to flower. 
 
 4F«Bniatrp 20. 
 
 Henry Taylor, 
 Of North Shields. 
 At North Shields, on Thursday, the 
 20th of February, 1823, Mr. Henry 
 Taylor, a member of the Society of 
 Priends, terminated, at the advanced age 
 of 86, a life of benevolent usefulness to 
 mankind. He was born at Whitby, and 
 in the Earlier portion of his life was 
 of the maritime profession, to which he 
 proved himself an efficient, enlightened, 
 and unwearied friend. As the author 
 alone of a treatise on " the Management 
 of Ships in Peculiar Situations," he will 
 deserve the gratitude of both ship-owners 
 and seamen, its practical application 
 being calculated to save valuable property 
 and invaluable lives. As the man who 
 projected the plan for lighting Harborough 
 gateway, and through much opposition 
 carried it into execution, he earned the 
 honorable title of the " Sailor's Friend." 
 The difficulty and danger of the passage 
 between Shields and London are well 
 known, though much of the latter is now 
 obviated by the chain of lights established 
 by this benevolent and persevering indi- 
 vidual, whose energy of character enabled 
 him to complete his philanthropic under- 
 taking. In its progress a series of dis- 
 heaitening circumstances presented them- 
 selves, without the prospect of those 
 brighter concomitants usually the result 
 of laborious achievement. Neither honor 
 nor emolument was his reward. The 
 consciousness of well doing, and the ap-" 
 probation of "the few," were the only 
 meed of exertions by which unbounded 
 wealth and countless lives have been pre- 
 served. Personally, he may be said to 
 have lost much, as the time and attention 
 requisite for the great objects he per- 
 fected were necessarily abstracted from 
 the extensive commercial pursuits in 
 which he was engaged, and which of 
 course suffered materially ; and thus the 
 only legacy he had the power of be- 
 queathing to his family was an honorable 
 name. His remains received the post- 
 
 humous respect frequently denied to living 
 worth, being followed to the grave by a 
 numerous body of ship-owners, seamen, 
 and friends. 
 
 The Season 
 Bullfinches return to our garoens in 
 February, and, though timid half the 
 year, are now fearless and persevering. 
 The mischief effected by them at this 
 period is trifling. It was supposed that 
 they deprived us of a large portion of the 
 buds of our fruit trees. It is now an as- 
 certained fact that they only select such 
 buds as contain the larva of an insect ; 
 and thus render us a kindness by destroy- 
 ing an embryo, or colony of injurious 
 creatures.* 
 
 The Bullfinch. 
 
 In some places this bird is called the 
 tnickbill, the nope, and the hoop. It has 
 a wild hooping note. 
 
 The head is black, and laige in propor- 
 tion to the body, the breast of a crimsoned 
 scarlet, other parts of a slate, or darker 
 color. The beak parrot-like. 
 
 This bird is very docile, and has no 
 song of its own, but readily learns, and 
 never forgets, whatever it is taught by the 
 whistle or pipe. The ben learns as well as 
 the male, and, though hung among other 
 caged birds, they invariably retain their 
 acquired melodies. They are sometimes 
 taught words of command. Fine-piping, 
 well-taught bullfinches, are frequently 
 sold at high prices. Handsome birds 
 with these qualities have produced from 
 five to ten guineas each. 
 
 The male bullfinch is in bigness equal 
 to the hen, but he has a flatter crown, and 
 excels her in the vividness of the lovely 
 scarlet, or crimson, on the breast; and 
 the feathers on the crown of the head, and 
 those that encompass the bill, are of a 
 brighter black. When seen together, the 
 one may easily be known from the other ; 
 but, while the birds are young, it is more 
 difficult to distinguish them. One of the 
 surest ways is to pull a few feathers from 
 their breasts, when they are about three 
 weeks old ; in about ten or twelve days 
 the feathers that come in the place of those 
 pulled will be of a curious red, if a male 
 bird ; but, if a hen, of a palish brown. 
 
 The bullfinch breeds late, seldom having 
 
 • Dr. Forster. 
 
219 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 21. 
 
 220 
 
 young ones before the end of May, or 
 beginning of June. She builds in an 
 orchard, wood, or park, where there are 
 plenty of trees, or on heaths: her nest seems 
 made with very little art : she lays four or 
 five eggs, of a bluish color, with large 
 dark brown, and faint reddish spots at the 
 large end. 
 
 Young ones, to be reared, should be at 
 least twelve or fourteen days old. They 
 must be kept warm and clean, and fed 
 every two hours, from morning till night, 
 with a little at a time. Their food must be 
 rape-seed, soaked in clean water for eight 
 or ten hours, then scalded, strained, and 
 bruised, mixed with an equal quantity of 
 white bread soaked in water, and boiled 
 with a little milk to a thick consistency. 
 It must be made fresh every day, if sour 
 it will spoil the birds. When they begin 
 to feed themselves, break them from this 
 soft food, and give them rape and canary 
 seed, as to linnets, with more of rape. 
 When ill, put a blade of saffron in the 
 water. They may be tried with wood- 
 lark's meat, or fine hempseed, but plenty 
 of rape, with a little canary, is good diet. 
 
 While young they will soon take tunes 
 which are repeatedly piped or whistled to 
 them, and learn words. 
 
 A full-grown bullfinch weighs about 
 thirteen drams. It is six inches long from 
 the point of the bill to the end of the tail ; 
 the length of which is two inches. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 February 20. Day breaks . . 4 59 
 
 Sun rises . . 6 53 
 
 — sets ... 5 7 
 
 Twilight ends . 7 1 
 
 Mezereon tree begins to blow 
 
 df^vnawi 21. 
 
 1792. On the 21st of February died, 
 after an illness occasioned by too intense 
 an application to professional engage- 
 ments, which terminated in a total de- 
 bility of body, Mr. Jacob Sclinebbelie, 
 draughtsman to the Society of Anti- 
 quaries, to which office he was appointed 
 on the express recommendation of the 
 president the Earl of Leicester, who, in 
 nis park near Hertford, accidentally saw 
 him, for the first time, while sketching a 
 view. The earl employed him in taking 
 picturesque landscapes about Tunbridge 
 Wells, with a view to their publication 
 for his benefit. His father, a native of 
 
 Zurich, in Switzerland, was a lieutenant 
 in the Dutch forces at the siege of Bergen- 
 op-Zoom, and afterwards settled in this 
 country as a confectioner, frequently at- 
 tending in that capacity on king George 
 II., and afterwards settling in a confec- 
 tioner's shop at Rochester. His son 
 Jacob, who was born August 30, 1760 
 in Duke's Court, St. Martin's Lane, fol- 
 lowed that business for some time at 
 Canterbury, and then at Hammersmith. 
 His love of nature, and talent for sketch- 
 ing, occasioned him to close his shop, 
 and he commenced at Westminster, and 
 other public schools, as self-taught teacher 
 of the art of drawing. His proficiency 
 introduced him to the notice of the 
 learned and the great. His quick eye, 
 and a discriminating taste, caught the 
 most beautiful objects in the happiest 
 points of view, and his fidelity and ele- 
 gance of delineation rank him among 
 first-rale artists. The works he put forth 
 on his own account are not numerous. 
 In 1781 he made six drawings of St. 
 Augustine's Monastery, Canterbury, to 
 be engraved by Mr. Rogers, &c., five of 
 which were completed : a smaller view 
 was etched by himself. In 1787 he 
 etched a plate of the Serpentine River, 
 with a distant view of Westminster Ab- 
 bey. In 1788 he published four views 
 of St. Alban's town and abbey, etched by 
 himself, and aquatinted by F. Jukes. 
 Early in 1791, having acquired the art of 
 aquatinting, he began, with great ardor, 
 "the Antiquaries' Museum," of which 
 he had, just before his death, completed 
 the third number ; and he left behind him 
 drawings to make a complete volume in 
 nine succeeding numbers. He associated 
 with Mr. Moore and Mr. Parkyns in the 
 first five numbers of the " Monastic Re- 
 mains," and contributed drawings to "the 
 Gentleman's Magazine." In the "Vetusta 
 Monumenta," and in the second volume 
 of the " Sepulchral Monuments of Great 
 Britain," the far greater part of the plates 
 are after his drawings. He also drew for 
 Mr. Nichols's "History of Leicester- 
 shire," and he completed views of King's 
 College chapel, Cambridge,- in a style 
 worthy that most beautiful and most per- 
 fect of our Gothic buildings. He deeply 
 studied our national antiquities, and the 
 different styles of Gothic architecture 
 and monuments, and he had commenced 
 to compile "Antique Dresses since the 
 Reign of William the Conqueror, col- 
 lected from various works; with their 
 
231 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBIWARY 21. 
 
 Authorities." Few artists produced more 
 specimens of their talents in their paiti- 
 cular departments than Mr. Schnebbelie 
 in the last four years of his life, which 
 was the short space of time that he was 
 seriously occupied in such pursuits. He 
 had the higher quality of great moral 
 worth, and died dee[)ly regretted.* 
 
 The Season. 
 
 Rains often set in and continue se- 
 veral days; and the atmosphere of the 
 month is characterized by humidity and 
 moisture. 
 
 Water, which is vulgarly called " one of 
 the four elements," is not an element, but 
 a compound. Of 100 parts of water, 
 there are about 15 parts of hydrogen, and 
 85 of oxygen. Dr. Priestley first decom- 
 posed water by a very simple process, 
 and the Hon. Mr. Cavendish confirmed 
 (he discovery by elaborate experiments. 
 
 Water not in motion soon corrupts; 
 hence, water received into tanks or other 
 vessels, and left quiet, emits a disagreeable 
 smell, and is unwholesome for kitchen 
 purposes. Water thus obtained may be 
 preserved a long time from putrefaction 
 by briskly stirring it for a few minutes 
 once or twice a day, and frequently 
 cleaning the vessel. By this easy prac- 
 tice rain wa'er may be kept sweet for 
 many weeks ; the more and the oftener it 
 is stirred the better. 
 
 Water teems with life. The multitu- 
 dinous creatures of the sea, from not ex- 
 periencing the "same extremes of heat and 
 told with terrestrial beings, are as prolific 
 under the pole as under the equator. 
 For land animals, if their situation be too 
 hot or too cold, cannot quickly pass to 
 one of a more convenient temperature, 
 because their course is interrupted by 
 rivers, mountains, and seas. On the con- 
 trary, the inhabitants of the ocean can in- 
 stantly plunge fathoms deeper, when they 
 find the degree of heat or cold insupport- 
 able near the surface, and quickly migrate 
 from one place to another. The quantity 
 of beings upon the earth is proportioned 
 to the degree of heat connected with that 
 of moisture ; but the watery tribes are 
 universally disseminated : and hence the 
 land, when compared with the ocean, is 
 
 222 
 
 a mere desert. Man himself is the greatly 
 abounding animal upon the earth. 
 
 Lou Boulidou. 
 In a village called Peyrols, about a 
 league from Montpellier, there is a foss6, 
 which is dry except in seasons of abundant 
 rain. When any rain descends, the 
 water bubbles again out of the ground as 
 if boiling. The same phenomenon is ob- 
 servable on pouring spring-water upon the 
 ground : or, when any quantity of water is 
 collected, it constantly bubbles as if boil- 
 ing though it remains perfectly cold. At 
 these times the people in the country use 
 it as a bath, for relief in rheumatic com- 
 plaints. In the droughts of summer there 
 are often large fissures in the bottom of 
 the foss^, fi^m which a noise is heard as 
 of the distant rushing of waters. The 
 foss^ is called in the country lou boulidou, 
 a word which implies something that 
 bubbles.* 
 
 " Apropos of Rain." 
 
 The first question in a whimsical dia- 
 logue between an English gentleman on 
 his arrival in Ireland, and Terence, his 
 servant, a native of that country, relates 
 to rain, and is therefore — "Apropos of 
 Rain." 
 
 Master. Does it rain ? 
 
 Teriy. No Sir. 
 
 M. I see the sun shines — Post nubila 
 Phabus. 
 
 T. The post has not come in yet. 
 
 M. How long did you live with Mr. T.? 
 
 T. In troth, Sir, I can't tell. I passed 
 my time so pleasantly in his service that 
 I never kept any account of it. I might 
 have lived with him all the days of my 
 life — anda great deal longer, if I pleased. 
 
 M. What made you leave him ? 
 
 T. My young mistress took it into her 
 head to break ray heart; for I was obliged 
 to attend her to church, to the play, and 
 wherever she visited. 
 
 M. Was not your master a proud man? 
 
 T. The proudest man in the kingdom 
 — he would not do a dirty action for the 
 universe. 
 
 M. What age are you now ? 
 
 T. I am just the same age of Paddy 
 Lahy : he and I were born in a week of 
 each other. 
 
 M. How old is he ? 
 
 T. I can't tell ; nur I don't think he 
 can tell himself. 
 
 * Greats. Mag. 
 
 * Miss Plumtrc. 
 
223 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 21. 
 
 224 
 
 M. Were you born in Dublin ? 
 
 T. No, Sir, I might if I had a mind ; 
 but I preferred the country. And please 
 God — if I live and do well — I'll be buried 
 in the same parish I was born in. 
 
 M. You can write I suppose ? 
 
 T. Yes, Sir, as fast as a dog can trot. 
 
 M. Which is the usual mode of tra- 
 velling in this country t 
 
 T. Why, Sir, if you travel by water, 
 you must take a boat; and, if you travel 
 by land, either in a chaise or on horse- 
 back : — those that can't afford either one 
 or t'other are obliged to trudge it on foot. 
 
 M. Which is the pleasantest season for 
 travelling ? 
 
 T. Faith, Sir, I think that season in 
 which a man has most money in his purse. 
 
 M. I believe your roads are passably 
 good. 
 
 r. They are all passable, Sir — if you 
 pay the turnpike. 
 
 M. I am told you have an immense 
 number of black cattle in this country. 
 
 r. Faith, we have, Sir — pletity of every 
 color. ' 
 
 M. But I think it rains too much in 
 Ireland. 
 
 r. So every one says : but Sir Boyle 
 says, he will bring in an act of parliament 
 in favor of fair weather; and I am sure 
 the poor hay-makers and turf-cutters will 
 bless him for it — God bless him : it was 
 he that first proposed that every quart 
 bottle should hold a quart, 
 
 M. AlS you have many fine rivers, I 
 suppose you have abundance of fish. 
 
 T. The best ever water wet — the first 
 fish in the world, except themselves. 
 Why, master, I won't tell you a lie ; if 
 you were at the Boyne, you could get 
 salmon and trout for nothing, and, if you 
 were at Ballyshanny, you'd get them for 
 less. 
 
 M. Were you ever in England ? 
 
 T. No Sir, but I'd like very much to 
 see that fine country. 
 
 M. Your passage to Liverpool, or the 
 Head, would not cost more than half a 
 guinea. 
 
 T. Faith, master, I'd rather walk it, 
 than pay the half of the money.* 
 
 Rustic Natural Puilosopiiy. 
 
 The countryman has his ways of phi- 
 losophising for the common uses of life, 
 as well as your speculative town gentle- 
 
 men. It is true his methods of pro- 
 ceeding are rude and unpolished, but 
 they are such as he is well satisfied with, 
 and as, in many cases, prove very useful 
 to him. Thus he estimates the quantity 
 of rain that has fallen in the night by the 
 height of his " server," the. pond in his 
 yard. His compass is the smoke of his 
 chimney. Besides certain natural infer- 
 ences from the sporting of his sheep, or 
 the flying of the martins and swallows, he 
 has a barometer more artificial ; either a 
 black line graduated on the wall of his 
 house, with a long string stretched across 
 it, or a Florence flask with the mouth 
 downward in a phial of water. His chro- 
 nometer is an hour-glass ; this he regulates 
 once in two or three days by a line which 
 the shadow of his door-post never fails to 
 touch, at such anhour, when the sun shines. 
 He also makes a guess at the lengthening 
 or shortness of the days, concerning which 
 he has a saying, very general all over 
 England, 
 
 At new year's tide. 
 
 The days are lengthea'd a cock's stride. 
 
 Every body knows that this saying in- 
 tends to express the lengthening of the 
 days in a small, but perceptible degree; 
 yet few are aware of the ground and oc- 
 casion of it, for there is something uncom- 
 mon, and seemingly improper, in applying 
 long measure, inches and feet, to time. 
 But the countryman knows what he says, 
 from observing where the shadow of the 
 upper lintel of his door falls at 12 o'clock, 
 and there making a mark. At new year's 
 day (he sun, at the meridian, being higher, 
 its shadow comes nearer the door by four 
 or five inches, which for rhyme's sake he 
 calls a cock's stride ; and so he expresses 
 the sensible increase of the day. Before 
 the style was altered, which was long after 
 this saying came into use, the distance of 
 time was greater by eleven days between 
 the solstice and new year's day, than it is 
 now ; and consequently the difference, 
 as to the sun's altitude, or the length ot 
 the days at those two times, would be 
 more perceptible than it is now. * 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Februan/ 21. Day breaks . • 4 58 
 
 Sun rises . . 6 51 
 
 — sets ... 5 9 
 
 Twilight ends . 7 2 
 
 Leaves of the March flowering plants 
 
 peep out hourly. 
 
 Polyanthea, i. 273. 
 
 *Gcnts. Mag. 1759 
 
325 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 21. 
 
 226 
 
 A CHILD 
 
 I sometimes avail myseit of a friend's 
 invitation to set off at night and sleep a 
 few miles from town in wholesome air_ 
 and glad my eyes in the morning with the 
 fresh green of the grass. On a visit of 
 this sort, last winter, I casually took up a 
 stray volume and carried it to my bed- 
 chamber, and began to read — ^where it is 
 not ray usual practice to begin — at the be- 
 ginning. I became deeply interested, 
 and read till between three and four in the 
 morning. Before day-break I awoke, 
 impatiently awaited the light, resumed 
 my reading, and regretted the call to 
 the breakfast-table. There was another 
 volume of the woik ; I borrowed and 
 pocketed both ; and instead of walking 
 Ijriskly to town for health, as had been 
 my purpose, I cornered myself in the 
 earliest stage, and read till it stopped near 
 my own home. I had business to trans- 
 act, and bustled in doors ; but the book 
 was a spell upon me : I could think o( 
 nothing else, and could do nothing that 
 awaited my doing. To escape observa- 
 tion and interruption I rushed out of the 
 house, stepped into a stage, going I knew 
 not whither, and read till the coachman, 
 having set down all my fellow passengers, 
 inquired where I wished to stop : — " At 
 
 Vol. I.— 8. 
 
 READING, 
 the house where the coach slops." — "Will 
 you be set down at the Plough, Sir V — 
 " Yes " — and, in a cold dreary winter's 
 day, I found myself in the passage of the 
 Plough at Blackwall, a house of summer 
 entertainment. A wondering waiter 
 showed me into an upper room having a 
 long reaching view of the noble river, with 
 " many a rood " of ice floating past large 
 moored ships and floating craft. I flung 
 myself, book in hand, into a chair ; a 
 fire was lighted,, and I read, unconscious 
 of time, and only annoyed by the men 
 coming in now and then to stir the fire, 
 till I had finished the fascinating volumes. 
 That done, I took a hasty dinner, and a 
 place to town in the stage. The work 
 which clutched me was Sir Walter Scott's 
 " Heart of Mid Lothian." While it was 
 in ray hands I was an infant. It is 
 certain that " I have not yet arrived at the 
 period of life which may put me on a 
 level with childhood ;" but I am not wiser 
 than when I was a child :— I only know 
 more. 
 
 Oh ! Spirit of the days gone by — 
 Sweet childhood's fearful ecstasy ! 
 The witching spall of winter night 
 Where are they fled with their delight : 
 1 
 
227 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 22. 
 
 228 
 
 When list'ning on the corner seat, 
 
 The winter evening's length to cheats 
 
 I heard my mother's memory tell 
 
 Tales Superstition loves so well : — 
 
 Things said or sung a thousand .times. 
 
 In simple prose or simpler rhymes ! 
 
 Ah ! where is page of poesy 
 
 So sweet as this was wont to be 1 
 
 The magic wonders that deceived. 
 
 When fictions were as truths believed ; 
 
 The fairy feats that once prevail'd. 
 
 Told to delight, and never fail'd : 
 
 Where are they now, their fears and sighs. 
 
 And tears from founts of happy eyes ? 
 
 I read in books, but find them not. 
 
 For Poesy hath its youth forgot : 
 
 I hear them told to children still. 
 
 But fear numbs not my spirits chill . 
 
 I still see faces pale with dread. 
 
 While mine could laugh at what is said ; 
 
 See tears imagined woes supply. 
 
 While mine with real cares are dry. 
 
 Where are they gone 1 — the joys and fears. 
 
 The links, the life of other years ? 
 
 I thought they twined around my heart 
 
 So close, that we could never part ; 
 
 But Reason, like a winter's day, 
 
 Nipp'd childhood's visions all away. 
 
 Nor left behind one withering flower 
 
 To cherish in a lonely hour. 
 
 ClcM'et 
 
 I love to hea>: little ones talk of the 
 books they admire ; and should like to 
 know, above all things, which were the 
 favourite authors of " Hugh Littlejohn, 
 Esq.," before he was pictured "at his 
 grand-father's gate," with his friend the 
 noble lurcher, keeping watch and ward. 
 When I see a child with a book,' I am 
 restless for a peep at the title page. On 
 looking at the artist's sketch of the little 
 girl, printed on the other side, I said, 
 " What is she reading ?" and I imagined it 
 must be " Mrs. Leicester's School — the 
 history of several young ladies related by 
 themselves" — containing a story of a little 
 girl who had never been out of London 
 all her life, nor seen a bit of green grass, 
 except in the Drapers' garden, near her 
 father's house; with the touching tale of 
 " The Changeling ;" and the narrative of 
 " Susan Yates," who lived with her pa- 
 rents in the Lincolnshire fens, in a lone 
 house, seven miles distant from the 
 nearest village, and had never been to 
 church, nor could she imagine what a 
 church was like. When the wind set in 
 from a particular point, and brought over 
 the moor the sound of the bells from St. 
 Mary's, little Susan conceived it was " a 
 quiet tune," occasioned by birds up in the 
 air, or that it was made by the angels. 
 
 She then tells of the Sunday morning of 
 her first going to church, from her remote 
 home ; of the anxiety and awe she felt, 
 and her child-like wonder at the place, 
 and at what she heard — and ever after- 
 wards, when she listened to the sweet 
 noise of bells, of her thinking of the 
 angels' singing, and remembering the 
 thoughts she had in her uninstructed 
 solitude. — ^These are things which I would 
 wish gentle readers to conceive, with me, 
 may engage the attention of the little girl 
 in the engraving. 
 
 The Sabbath Bells. 
 
 The cheerful sabbath bells, wherever heard. 
 Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the 
 
 voice 
 Of one, who from the far-off bills proclaims 
 Tidings of good to Zion : chiefly when 
 Their piercing tones fall sudden on the ear 
 Of the contemplant, solitary man. 
 Whom thoughts abstruse or high have chanced 
 
 to lure 
 Forth from the walks of men, revolving oft. 
 And oft again, hard matter, which eludes 
 And baffles his pursuit — thought-sick and tired 
 Of controversy, where no end appears, 
 No clue to his research, the lonely man 
 Half wishes for society again. 
 Him, thus engaged, the sabbath bells salute 
 Sudden ! his heart awakes, his ears drink in 
 The cheering music \ his relenting soul 
 Yearns after all the joys of social life. 
 And softens with the love of human kind. 
 
 Charles Lamb, 
 
 ^iF^fimare 22. 
 
 EvERGEEENS. 
 
 At tliis time of year, winter gardens, 
 or those composed of evergreens and 
 adorned with green houses, prove to us 
 the value of planting our grounds for re- 
 creation with shrubs that do not cast their 
 leaves ; for, if clear warm weather happen 
 at this time of year, we may in such 
 gardens enjoy a temporary summer. An 
 annual writer observes : — 
 
 "Although the cheerful scenes of a 
 great city, its glittering shops, passing 
 thousands, and countless attractions of 
 every kind, draw many from the country 
 at this season, there are even now rural 
 sights and rural sounds, which have much 
 to charm the eye, the ear to please, and 
 particularly 
 
 If cow the sun extends his cheering beam, 
 And all the landscape casts a golden gleam ' 
 
229 
 
 Clear is the sky, and calm and soft the air. 
 And througU thin mist each ol^cct loolis more 
 fair. 
 
 Then, where the villa rears its sheltering 
 grove, 
 Along the southern lawn 'tis sweet to rove : 
 There dark green pines, behind, their boughs 
 
 extend. 
 And bright spruce Grs like pyramids ascend. 
 And round their tops, in many a pendent row. 
 Their scaly cones of shining auburn show ; 
 There the broad cedar's level branches spread. 
 And the tall Cyprus lifts its spiry head ; 
 With alatemus ilex interweaves. 
 And laurels mix their glossy oval leaves ; 
 And gilded holly crimson fruit displays. 
 And white viburnum o'er the border strays. 
 
 Where thesefrom storms the spacious green- 
 house screen, 
 Ev'n now the eye beholds a flowry scene ; 
 There crystal hashes ward the injurious cold. 
 And rows of benches fair exotics hold ; 
 Rich plants, that Afric's sunny cape supplies. 
 Or o'er the isles of either India rise. 
 
 While striped geranium shows its tufts of 
 red. 
 And verdant m3rrtlc3 grateful fragrance shed ; 
 A moment 6tay to mark the vivid bloom, 
 A moment stay to catch the high perfume."* 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 22, 
 
 Interview with Mr. Kelkrman. 
 
 230 
 
 An Alchemist in 1828. 
 
 We hear of an alchemist lately, and 
 perhaps still, living in England, near Hit- 
 chin in Hertfordshire. Many inhabitants 
 in that neighbourhood gravely aver that 
 Mr. Kellerman, of LiUey, a village mid- 
 way between Luton and Hitchin, suc- 
 ceeded in discovering the Philosopher's 
 Stone and Universal Solvent. He had 
 been a man of fashion, and largely con- 
 cerned in adventures on the turf.from which 
 he withdrew and devoted himself to al- 
 chemy. While pursuing his new and 
 singular object, he for many years ren- 
 dered himself inaccessible and invisible 
 to the world. He closely shut up and 
 barricaded his house, and protected the 
 walls of his grounds with hurdles, and 
 spring-guns so planted as to resist intru- 
 sion in every direction. Sir Richard 
 Phillips, in " A Personal Tour through the 
 United Kingdom," relates that being at 
 Luton in the Summer of 1828 he was 
 informed of this recluse, and gives the 
 following account of a visit he paid to 
 him, notwithstanding the reported dislike 
 of the philosopher to strangers. 
 
 Dr. Forstcr's Perennial Calendar. 
 
 I had no encouragement to bo to 
 Liliey, but I thought that even the ex- 
 ternal inspection of such premises would 
 repay me for the trouble. At Liliey I 
 enquired for his house of various peop'le 
 and they looked ominous; some smiled' 
 others shook their heads, and all appeared 
 surprised at the approach of an apparent 
 visitor to Mr. Kellerman. 
 
 The appearance of the premises did 
 not behe vulgar report. I could not help 
 shuddering at seeing the high walls of 
 respectable premises lined at the top 
 with double tiers of hurdles, and, on 
 drivmg my chaise to the front of the house, 
 I perceived the whole in a state of hgrrid 
 dilapidation. Contrary however to my 
 expectation, I found a young man who 
 appeared to belong to the out-buildings, 
 and he took charge of my card for his 
 master, and went to the back part of the 
 house to deliver it. The front windows 
 on the ground floor and upper stories were 
 entirely closed by inside shutters, much 
 of the glass was broken, and the premises 
 appeared altogether as if deserted. I was 
 pleased at the words, "My Master will 
 be happy to see you," and in a minute 
 the front door was opened, and Mr. 
 Kellerman presented himself. — I lament 
 that I have not the pencil of Hogarth ; for 
 a more original figure never was seen. 
 He was about six feet high, and of athletic 
 make : on his head was a white night-cap, 
 and his dress consisted of a long great-coat 
 once green, and he had a sort of jockey 
 waistcoat with three tiers of pockets. His 
 manner was extremely polite and graceful, 
 but my attention was chiefly absorbed by 
 his singular physiognomy. His com- 
 plexion was deeply sallow, and his eyes 
 large, black, and rolling. He conducted 
 me into a ve.ry large parlour, with a win- 
 dow looking backward,- arid having locked 
 the door, and put the key in his pocket, 
 he desired me to be seated in one of two 
 large arm chairs covered with sheepskins. 
 The room was a realization of the well- 
 known picture of Teniers' Alchemist. 
 The floor was covered with retorts, 
 crucibles, alembics, jars, bottles in various 
 shapes, intermingled with old books piled 
 upon each other, with a sufficient quantity 
 of dust and cobwebs. Diffierent shelves 
 were filled in the same manner, and on 
 one side stood his bed. In a corner, 
 somewhat shaded from the light, I beheld 
 two heads, white, with dark wigs on them ; 
 1 2 
 
231 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— FEBRUARY 22. 
 
 232 
 
 I entertained no doubt, therefore, that 
 among other fancies he was engaged in 
 re-making the brazen speaking head of 
 Roger Bacon and Albertus. Many per- 
 sons might have felt alarmed at the pecu- 
 liarity of my situation; but being ac- 
 customed to mingle with eccentric cha- 
 racters, and having no fear from any pre- 
 tensions of the black art, I was infinitely 
 gratified by all I saw 
 
 Having stated the reports which I 
 had heard,- relative to his wonderful dis- 
 coveries, I told him frankly that mine was 
 a visit of curiosity, and stated that, if what 
 1 had heard was matter of fact, the re- 
 searches of the ancient chemists had been 
 unjustly derided. He then gave me a 
 history of his studies, mentioned some 
 men whom I had happened to know in 
 London, who he alleged had assured him 
 npt thfey had made gold. That having in 
 consequence examined the works of the 
 ancient alchemists, and discovered the 
 key which they had studiously concealed 
 from the multitude, he had pursued their 
 system under the influence of new lights ; 
 and after suffering numerous disappoint- 
 ments, owing to the ambiguity witli which 
 they described their processes, he had, at 
 length, happily succeeded ; had madegold, 
 and could make as much more as he 
 pleased, even to the extent of paying off 
 the national debt in the coin of llie realm. 
 
 I yielded to the declaration, expressed 
 my satisfaction at so extraordinary a 
 discovery, and asked him to oblige me 
 so far as to show me some of the precjous 
 metal which he had made. 
 
 " Not so," said he; "I will show it to 
 no one. I made Lord Liverpool the offer, 
 that if he would introduce me to the King, 
 I would show it to his Majesty ; but Lord 
 Liverpool insolently declined, on tlie 
 gronnd that there was no precedent ; and 
 I am therefore determined that the secret 
 shall die with me. It is true that, in 
 order to avenge myself of such contempt, 
 I made a communication to the French 
 ambassador, Prince Polignac, and offered 
 to go to France, and transfer to the French 
 government the entire advantages of the 
 discovery J but after- deluding me, and 
 shuffling for some time, I found it neces- 
 sary to treat him with the same contempt 
 as the others." 
 
 I expressed my convictions in re- 
 gard to the double dealing of men in 
 office. 
 
 " O," said he, " as to that, every court 
 in Europe well knows tliat I have made 
 
 the discovery, and they are all " in con- 
 federacy against me; lest, by giving it 
 to any one, I should make that country 
 master of all the rest — the world. Sir," he 
 exclaimed with great emotion, " is in my 
 hands and my power." 
 
 Satisfied with this announcement of 
 the discovery of the philosopher's stone, I 
 now enquired about the sublit"e alkahest 
 or universal solvent, and whether he had 
 succeeded in deciphering the enigmatical 
 descriptions of the ancient writers on that 
 most curious topic. 
 
 " Certainly," he replied : " I succeeded 
 in that several years ago." 
 
 " Then," I proceeded, " have you ef- 
 fected the other great desideratum, the 
 fixing of mercury?" 
 
 " Than that process," said he, " there 
 is nothing more easy : at the same time it 
 is proper I should inform you that there 
 are a class of impostors, who, mistaking 
 the ancient writers, pretend it can be done 
 by heat; but. I can assure you, it can 
 only be effected by water.'' 
 
 I then besought him to do me the 
 favor to show me some of his fixed mer- 
 cury, having once seen some which had 
 been fixed by cold. 
 
 This proposition, however, he declin- 
 ed, because he said he had refijsed others. 
 " That you may however be satisfied that 
 I have made great discoveries, here is a 
 bottle of oil, which I have purified, and 
 rendered as transparent as spiing water. 
 I was offered £10,000 for this discovery; 
 but I am so neglected, and so conspired 
 against, that I am determined it and all 
 my other discoveries shall die with me." 
 
 I now enquired, whether he had heen 
 alarmed by the ignorance of the people 
 in the country, so as to shut himself up 
 in so unusual a manner. 
 
 " No," he replied, " not on their ac- 
 count wholly. They are ignorant and in- 
 solent enough ; but it was to protect my- 
 self against the governments of Europe, 
 who are determined to get possession of 
 my secret by force. I have been," he ex- 
 claimed, " twice fired at in one day 
 through that window, and three times at- 
 tempted to be poisoned. They believed I 
 had written a book containing ray secrets, 
 and to get possession of this book has been 
 their object. To baffle them, I burnt all 
 that I had ever written, and I have so 
 guarded the windows with spring-guns, 
 and have such a collection of cumbustiblas 
 in the range of bottles which stand at your 
 elbow, that I could destroy a whole regi- 
 
233 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 23, 
 
 234 
 
 nient of soldiers if sent against me." He 
 then related tiiat, as a further protection, 
 he lived entirely in that room, and per- 
 mitted no one to come into the house; 
 while he had locked up every room except 
 that vvith patent padlocks, and sealed the 
 keyholes. 
 
 It would be tedious and impossible 
 to follow Mr. Kellerraan through a con- 
 versation of two or three hours, in which 
 he enlarged upon the merits of the an- 
 cient alchemists, and on the blunders and 
 impertiment assumptions of the modern 
 chemists, with whose writings and names 
 it is fair to acknowledge he seemed well 
 acquainted. He quoted the authorities 
 of Roger and Lord Bacon, Paracelsus, 
 Boyle, Boerhaave, Woolfe, and others, to 
 justify his pursuits. As to the term phi- 
 losopher's stone, he alleged that it was a 
 mere figure, to deceive the vulgar. He 
 appeared also to give full credit to the 
 silly story about Dee's assistant, Kelly, 
 finding some of the powder of projection 
 in the tomb of Roger Bacon at Glaston- 
 bury, by means of which, as was said, 
 Kelly for a length of time supported him- 
 self in princely splendor. 
 
 I enquired whether he had discovered 
 the "blacker than black" of Appolonius 
 Tyanus ; and this, he assured me, he had 
 effected : it was itself the powder of pro- 
 jection for producing gold. 
 
 Amidst all this delusion and illusion 
 on these subjects, Mr. Kellerman behaved 
 in other respects with great propriety and 
 politeness ; and, having unlocked the door, 
 he took me to the doors of some of the 
 other rooms, to show me how safely they 
 were padlocked; and, on taking leave, 
 directed me in my course towards Bed- 
 ford. 
 
 In a few minutes, I overtook a man, 
 and, on enquiring what the people thought 
 of Mr. Kellerman, he told me that he had 
 lived with bim for seven years; that he was 
 one of eight assistants, whom he kept for 
 the purpose of superintending his cruci- 
 bles, two at a time relieving each other 
 every six hours ; that Mr. K. exposed some 
 preparations to intense heat for many 
 months at a time, but that all except one 
 crucible had burst, and that he called on 
 him to observe, that it contained the true 
 " blacker than black." The man pro- 
 tested however, that no gold had ever been 
 made, and that no mercury had ever been 
 fixed ; for he was quite sure that, if he 
 had made any discovery, he could not 
 have concealed it from the assistants; 
 
 rmi- 
 experi- 
 
 while, on the contrary, they witnessed 
 his severe disappointments, at the terr 
 nation of his most elaborate 
 raents. 
 
 On my telling the man that I had 
 been in his room, he seemed much as- 
 tonished at my boldness ; for he assured 
 me, that he carried a loaded pistol in 
 every one of his six waistcoat pockets. 
 I learnt also, from this man, that he has or 
 had considerable property in Jamaica; 
 that he has lived in the premises at Lilley 
 about twenty-three years, and during 
 fourteen of them pursued his alchemical 
 researches with unremitting ardor; but 
 for the last few years has shut himself up 
 as a close prisoner, and lived in the man- 
 ner I have described. 
 
 b, m. 
 Febrmiy 22. Day breaks . . 4 56 
 Sun rises . . 6 49 
 — sets ... 5 11 
 Twilight ends . 7 4 
 The daisy, also called herb margaret, 
 begins to flowers and dot the lawns and 
 fields. 
 
 dF^firuarp 23. • 
 
 1792, February 23. Died, full o 
 fame and honors, the great president of 
 the Royal Academy, Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds. He was fellow of the Royal and 
 Antiquarian Societies, and LL. D. of 
 Oxford and Dublin, and moreover a 
 member of the worshipful company of 
 paper-stainers, of the city of London. 
 The latter dignity it may be, in the esti- 
 mation of some, as important to record, as 
 that he wore a pig-tail . 
 
 Sir Joshua was one of the most memo- 
 rable men.tf '.is time. He veiy early 
 distinguished nimself as an artist; and 
 few were so capable of illustrating the 
 theory of the science they professed, 
 by practice and discourse. He assisted 
 Johnson with -three numbers of the 
 " Idler," on the different practice of the 
 Dutch and Italian painters. In taste, and 
 in much of the richness and harmony of 
 coloring, he was equal to the great masters 
 of the renowned ages. His portraits ex- 
 emplify a variety and a dignity derived 
 from the higher branches of art, which, 
 since Vandyke, had never been repre- 
 sented. They ren-ind the spectator of 
 the invention of history, and the amenity 
 of landscape. Although honored by his 
 
235 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 23. 
 
 236 
 
 professional contemporaries, courted by 
 the great, caressed by sovereigns, and ce- 
 lebrated by poets, yet arrogance or pre- 
 sumption was never visible in his con- 
 duct or conversation to the most scruti- 
 nizing eye. His talents of every kind, 
 and his social virtues, rendered him the 
 centre of many agreeable circles. He 
 had too much merit not to excite jealousy, 
 and too much innocence to provoke en- 
 mity. The loss of no man of his time 
 was felt with more general and unmixed 
 sorrow. His remains were deposited in 
 the metropolitan cathedral of St. Paul. 
 No one better deserved honorable sepul- 
 ture than the man who, by precept and 
 example, taught the practice of the art he 
 professed, and who added to a thorough 
 knowledge of it the literature of a scholar, 
 the knowledge of a philosopher, and the 
 manners of a gentleman. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds was the son of 
 the Rev. Samuel Reynolds. He was born 
 it Plympton, in Devonshir«i, July 16, 
 1723. and about the year 1742 placed 
 iinder Hudson, who, though a poor 
 painter, was the best of his time, and 
 had been a pupil to Richardson, who 
 thus appears to have been Sir Joshua's 
 pictori^ grandfather. Reynolds went 
 with admiral (afterwards lord) Keppel, to 
 Minorca, in 1749, and thence accom- 
 panied him to Italy, where he staid till 
 1753. At Rome he painted caricatures 
 of some English gentlemen there, with 
 their own consent, which was much the 
 fashion of the day. He particularly 
 painted sort of parody on Raphael's 
 School of Athens, in which all his English 
 acquaintances at Rome were introduced. 
 This picture contains nearly thirty 
 portraits, with the portrait of the pos- 
 sessor, Joseph Henry, Esq., of Straffan, 
 Ireland. Reynolds returned from 
 
 whole-length picture of lord Keppel, 
 which introduced him at once into the 
 first business in portrait painting. He 
 painted some of the first-rate beauties; 
 the polite world flocked to see the pic- 
 tures, and he soon became the most 
 fashionable painter, not only in England, 
 but in Europe. He then lived in Newport 
 Street, whence he removed to Leicester 
 Fields about 1760. He chiefly employed 
 himself on portraits, because, in a country 
 wnere self-love prefers likenesses of itself, 
 to representations of natural and historic^ 
 truth, the historical department is not 
 equally eligible. Among Reynolds's best 
 deviations from " head dressing," are his 
 
 Eictures of Venus chastising Cupid for 
 aving learned to cast accounts, Dante's 
 Ugolino, a Gipsey telling fortunes. The 
 Infant Jupiter, the calling of Samuel, the 
 Death of Dido, the Nativity, the Cardinal 
 Virtues, &'c., for New college Chapel; 
 Cupid and Psyche, Cyraon and Iphi- 
 genia, Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, 
 and Hercules strangling the Serpents. He 
 also painted a few landscapes. He did 
 not owe any part either of his fame or his 
 fortune to royal favor ; George III. 
 never commissioned him to paint a single 
 picture, nor once sat to him, except in 
 1771, when he gave- his portrait to the 
 Royal Academy. Sir Joshua, Mr. Gar- 
 rick, Mr. Cumberland, Mr. Goldsmith, 
 Mr Burke, and his brother Richard, Mr, 
 William Burke, and Dr. Bernard, after- 
 terwards bishop of Killaloe, had happened 
 to dine together three or four times at tlie 
 St. James's Coffee-house, and an epitaph 
 on Goldsmith, which Garrick produced 
 one day, gave birth to Goldsmith's " Re- 
 taliation." The lines on Sir Joshua 
 R. are worth transcribing, though the 
 character was left unfinished, by Gold- 
 smith's death : — 
 
 ?n 
 
 Italy in 1753 or 1754, and produced a 
 
 " Here Reynolds is laid ; and, to tell you my mind, 
 
 He has not left a wiser or better behind ; 
 
 His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ; 
 
 His manners were gentle, complying, and bland. 
 
 Still bom to improve us in every part, 
 
 His pencil our faces, — ^his manners our heart ; 
 
 To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering ; 
 
 When they judg'd without skill, he was still hard of hearing; 
 
 When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Corregios, and stufi". 
 
 He shifted his trumpet and only took snuft'." 
 
 Sir Joshua was so remarkably deaf as About 1 770 35 guineas 
 
 to be under the necessity of using an ear- From 1779 till he ceased to 
 
 trumpet in company. His prices were, paint 50 ditto 
 
 About 1755, for a head, . 12 Guineas. Half and whole lengths in proportion, 
 boon After, 1760 ... 25 ditto Horace Walpole, earl of Orford, in the 
 
237 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 23 
 
 233 
 
 advertisement preBxed to the fourth vo- 
 lume of his Anecdotes of painting, justly 
 says, — "The prints after the workJs of Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds have spread his fame to 
 Italy, where they have not at present a 
 single painter who can pretend to .rival an 
 imagination so fertile that the attitudes 
 of his portraits are as various as those of 
 history. — Sir Joshua had been accused of 
 plagiarism, for having borrowed attitudes 
 from ancient masters. Not only candor, 
 but criticism, must deny the force of the 
 cliarge. When a single posture is imi- 
 tated from an historic picture, and applied 
 lo a portrait in a different dress, and with 
 new attributes, this is not plagiarism, but 
 quotation ; and a quotation from a great 
 author, with a novel application of the 
 sense, has always been allowed to be an 
 instance of parts and taste, and may have 
 more merit than the original. When the 
 sons of Jacob imposed on their father by 
 a false coat of Joseph, saying, ' Know 
 now whethei; this be thy son's coat or 
 not?' they only asked a deceitful ques- 
 tion—but that interrogation became wit, 
 when Richard I., on the pope reclaiming 
 a bishop whom the king had taken pri- 
 soner in battle, sent him the prelate's 
 coat of mail, and in the words of Scrip- 
 ture asked his Holiness, whether that 
 was the coat of his son or not? — Is not 
 there hqmor and satire in Sir Joshua's re- 
 ducing Holbein's swaggering and colossal 
 haughtiness of Henry VIII. to the boyish 
 jollity of Master Crewe ? Sir Joshua was 
 not a plagiary, but will beget a thousand. 
 The exuberance of his invention will be 
 the grammar of future painters of por- 
 traits. — In what age were paternal despair, 
 and the hoiTors of death, pronounced with 
 more exoressive acceuN than in his pic- 
 
 ture of Ugolino? When were mfantine 
 loveliness, or embryo passions, touched 
 with sweeter truth, than in his portraits of 
 Miss Price and the Baby Jupiter." 
 
 Dr. Johnson says, in the Life of Cow- 
 ley, " Sir Joshua Reynolds, the great 
 painter of the present age, had the first 
 fondness for his art excited by the perusal 
 of Richardson's Treatise." He adds, " I 
 know no mau who has passed through 
 life with more observation than Rey- 
 nolds — whose observations on all subjects 
 of criticism and taste are so ingenious 
 and just, that posterity may be at a loss 
 to determine whether his consummate 
 skill and execution in his own art, or his 
 judgment in that and other kindred arts, 
 were superior." 
 
 A print, engraved by Bartolozzi, was 
 presented to each attendant on Sir Joshua's 
 funeral. The principal figure in it is a 
 beautiful female, clasping an urn ; near 
 her is a boy or genius, holding an extin- 
 guished torch in one hand, and pointing 
 with the other to a tablet on a sarcopha- 
 gus, inscribed Succedit fama, vivusgue per 
 ora feretur,.* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 February 23. Day breaks . . 4 54 
 
 Sun rises . . 6 47 
 
 — sets ... 5 13 
 
 Twilight ends . 7 6 
 
 The apricot begins to show a few blos- 
 soms. 
 
 White butterbur often in full flower if 
 mild ; but there is sometimes a month's 
 diflerence in the blowing of this plant. 
 
 * Greats. Mag 
 
 The Season. 
 
 Now spring the living herbs, -profusely wild, 
 O'er all the deep green earth, beyond the power 
 Of botanist to number up the tribes : 
 Whether he steals along the lonely dale, W 
 
 In silent search ; or through the forest rank. 
 With what the dull incurious weeds account. 
 Bursts his blind way ; or climbs the n.ountain's top, 
 Fired by the nodding verdure of its brow. 
 
 But who their virtues can declare ? who pierce. 
 With vision pure, into those secret stores 
 Of health, and lift, and joy ? 
 
239 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 23. 
 
 24' 
 
 OAK IN THE WALL OF BOXLEY ABBEY. 
 
 The parish of Boxley, in Kent, adjoins and earl of Kent, at whose disgrace^ 
 
 the town of Maidstone on the north-east, about 1084, it became forfeited to tbe 
 
 The manor, at the general survey for crown, with his other possessions. 
 
 Doomsday Book, formed part of the vast In 1146 William d*Ipre, earl of Kent, 
 
 8.51816 of Oflo, the (Treat bishop of Bayeux who afterwards became a monk at Laon, 
 
241 
 
 THE YEAR, BOOK- FEBRUARY 23. 
 
 242 
 
 in Flanders, founded the abbey of Boxley 
 for monks of the Cisterdan order, and 
 dedicated it to the Virgin Mary, as all 
 houses of that order were. In 1189 king 
 Richard I. gave the manor to the abbey, 
 which was aggrandized and variously 
 privileged by successive monarchs. 
 
 Edward I, summoned the abbot of 
 Boxley to parliament. At the dissolution, 
 Boxley shared the common fate of church 
 lands, and Henry VIII, leserved it to the 
 crown, but by indenture exchanged the 
 abbey and manor, excepting the parsonage 
 and advowson, with Sir Thomas Wyatt, 
 of AUyngton, Km., for other premises. 
 Two years afterwards Boxley was again 
 vested in the crown. 
 
 Queen Mary granted the manor to the 
 lady Jane Wyatt, widow of Sir Thomas, 
 and her heirs male in capite, by knight's 
 service. It again reverted to the crown, 
 by attainder of blood, which was restored 
 by act of parliament to George Wyatt, 
 Esq., who, by a grant from the crown, 
 possessed this estate in fee ; and his de- 
 scendant, Richard Wyatt, £sq.,rW^o died 
 in 1753, bequeathed it, with other estates, 
 to Lord Romney. The abbey passed 
 through the families of Silyard and 
 Austen, to John Amhurst, of Rochester, 
 Esq., afterwards of Bensted.* 
 
 A little tract, '' Summer Wanderings in 
 Kent, 1830," which may be considered 
 as almost privately published — for it is 
 printed and sold at Camberwell — mentions 
 the remaiiis of this ancient edifice, and 
 the title page is frontispieced with a view 
 of the old oak growing from the ruined 
 wall, as it is here represented The en- 
 graving is referred to in the annexed ex- 
 tracts from the " Wanderings :" — 
 
 "Over the fields to Boxley 
 
 Abbey, once notorious as the scene of a 
 pious fraud — the notorious ' Rood of 
 Grace,' burnt afterwards at Paul's Cross, 
 which, according to Lambard, could 
 'bow itself, lift up itself, shake and stir 
 the bands and feete, nod the head, roll the 
 eyes, wag the chaps, and beijd the 
 browes,' to admiration. The principal 
 remains [of the abbey] consist of a long 
 bam, a brick gateway and lodge, and the 
 boundary wall thickly overgrown with 
 ivy, in which I observed an oak of con- 
 siderable magnitude and apparently in a 
 flourishing state, notwithstanding the rigid 
 soil in which it grows, the roots in several 
 
 Hasted 
 
 places,. where they ftad displaced parts of 
 the wall, being as thick as a man's leg. 
 The Indian Peepul-tree seems to delight 
 in similar situations, where it attains such 
 a size as frequently to throw down, not 
 only walls, but whole buildings. 
 
 " Passed a spinney, cheered by the 
 fall ' of unseen waters ; and forcing a 
 passage through the hedge which guarded 
 it, arrived at a beautiful cascade, remark* 
 able for encrusting -with a pearly coat any 
 substance immersed in :'t. Towards the 
 hills, where I saw a pair of ravens 
 swinging on a strong breeze over a thick 
 cover, into which they soon dropped, and 
 a hawk breasting the pure air far above 
 them. Gained the summit, and gazed 
 awhile on the varied prospect before me. 
 Saw a stone with this inscription : — 
 Here I was set 
 With labour 
 great, Judg as 
 yov pleas, 'Twos 
 for your ease. (1409 — 1609.) 
 The purpose for which it was erected 
 cannot be determined with any certainty. 
 It has the appearance of a stepping block 
 for enabling horsemen to mount ; or per- 
 haps some worthy friar of the neighbour- 
 ing abbey of ' Boxele,' willing to do a 
 service to kindred minds, caused it to be 
 planted here for the ease of such as might 
 repair to the delightful eminence on 
 which it is set, 'to meditate at even- 
 tide.' 
 
 ' " Shaped my course eastward, 
 
 and obtained a charming view of Boxley 
 church, with its green church-yard finely 
 relieved against a cluster of towering 
 trees, and reposing in a quiet valley, sur- 
 rounded by scenery the most luxuriant 
 and extensive. 
 
 "After forcing a passage through 
 thickets and brakes, 1 came suddenly 
 upon the new pathway cut by Lord 
 Romney in a zig-zag direction down the 
 hill, at a point where the branches of two 
 venerable yew trees meet across it, — 
 
 ■ a pillared shade 
 
 Upon whose grassless floor of red-brown hue 
 By sheddings froto the pilling umbrage tinged 
 Perennially — ^beneath whose sable roof 
 Of boughs, as if for festal purpose decked 
 With nnrejoicing berries, ghosUy shapes 
 May meet at noon-lide. 
 
 " About this walk, the greater part of 
 which is open to the charming landscape 
 below, are planted numerous firs, from 
 whose dusky recesses the new foliage shot 
 
2^3 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 24. 
 
 244 
 
 forth, like spent star^ from a jet of fire 
 dropping through the still twilight. Heard 
 the tinkling of a sheep-bell, and the shrill 
 whistle of a lazy urchin stretched in the 
 shadow of a neighbouring thicket, and 
 soon caught a glimpse of the flock hur- 
 . rying down from the skirts of a copgice 
 to the more open pasture below. A short 
 walk brought us to Boxley. In the 
 church-yard, I noticed a plain memorial 
 for ' Rose Bush,' aged 21 — a fine theme 
 for the punster and the poet."' 
 
 Speech pkom a Tree. 
 
 A prodigal, who was left by his father 
 in possession of a large estate, well-con- 
 ditioned, impaired it by extravagance. He 
 wanted money, and ordered a number of 
 timber trees, near the mansion, to be 
 felled for sale. He stood by, to direct the 
 laborers, when suddenly a hollow mur- 
 muring was heard within the trunk of a 
 venerable oak, and, after several groans, a 
 voice from the tree distinctly said :— 
 
 " My young master, 
 
 " Your great grandfather planted 
 me when he was much about your age, 
 for the use of his posterity. I am the 
 most ancient tree in your forest, and 
 have largely contributed by my products 
 to people it. There is, therefore, some 
 respect due to ray services, if none to my 
 years. I cannot well remember your 
 great grandfather, but I recollect the 
 favor of your grandfather; and your 
 father was not neglectful of me. My 
 shade assisted his rest when he was 
 fatigued by the sultry heat, and these arms 
 have sheltered him from sudden showers. 
 You were his darling, and, if the wrinkles 
 of age have not obliterated them, you may 
 see your name traced in several places by 
 his own hand on my trunk. 
 
 " I could perish without regret, if my 
 fall would do you any real service. Were 
 I destined to repair your mansion, or 
 your tenants' ploughs and carts, and the 
 like, I should fulfil the end for whici. I 
 exist — to be useful to my owner. But to 
 be trucked away for vile gold, to satisfy 
 the demand of honorable cheats, and be 
 rendered subservient to profligate luxury, 
 is more than a tree of any spirit can bear. 
 
 " Your ancestors never thought you 
 would make havoc and waste of the 
 woods they planted. While they lived it 
 was a pleasure to be a tree; the old 
 ones amongst us were honored, and the 
 young ones were encouraged around us. 
 
 Now, we must all fall without distinction, 
 and in a short time the birds will not find 
 a branch to build or voost upon. Yet, 
 why should we complain? Almost all 
 your farms have followed you to London, 
 and, of course, we must take the same 
 journey. 
 
 " An old tree loves to prate, and you 
 will excuse me if I have been too free 
 with my tongue. I hope that advice 
 from an oak may make more impression 
 upon you than the representations of your 
 steward. My ancestors of Dodona were 
 often consulted, and why should a British 
 tree be denied liberty of speech? 
 
 " But you are tired, you wish me to 
 remain dumb. I will not detain you, 
 though you will have too much reason to 
 remember ane when I am gone. I only 
 beg, if I must fall, that you will send me 
 to one of his majesty's dock-yards, where 
 my firmness and integrity may be em- 
 ployed in the service of my country, 
 while you, who are a slave to your wants, 
 only live to enslave it." 
 
 The prodigal could bear no more : he 
 ordered the oak to be dispatched, and the 
 venerable tree fell without a groan 
 
 ^tftVUSLVp 24. 
 
 St. Matthias. 
 
 The name of this apostle in the church 
 calendar denotes this to be a holiday.* 
 
 1655. Feb. 24. Mr. Eve.yn notes h's 
 having seen a curious mechanical con- 
 trivance. " I was shewed a table clock, 
 whose balance was only a chrystal ball 
 sliding on parallel irons without being at 
 all fixed, but rolling from stage to stage tilt 
 falling on a spring concealed from sight, 
 it was thrown up to the utmost channel 
 again, made with an imperceptible decli- 
 vity; in this continual vicissitude of mo- 
 tion prettily entertaining the eye every 
 half minute, and the next half giving pro- 
 gress to the hand that showed the hour, 
 and giving notice by a small bell, so as 
 in 120 half minutes, or periods of the 
 bullets falling on the ejaculatory spring, 
 the clock-part struck. This very extra- 
 ordinary piece (richly adorned) had been 
 presented by some German prince to our 
 
 * For St. Matthias, see Every Day Book, 
 ii. 254. y > ' 
 
245 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 25, 26. 
 
 late king [Charles I.], and was now in the 
 possession of the usurper ""Oliver Crom- 
 well], valued at 200^" 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Febniary 24. Day breaks . 
 
 . 4 52 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 6 45 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 5 15 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 7 8 
 
 While willow flowers. 
 
 
 Particolor crocus flowers. 
 
 
 ^efituatB 25. 
 
 1725. Feb. 25. Sir Christopher Wren 
 died in the ninety-first year of his age. 
 He was born at Knoyle near Hindon, in 
 the neighbourhood of Salisbury, Wiltshire. 
 Besides being the architect and builder of 
 St. Paul's Cathedral, he erected Green- 
 wich Hospital, Chelsea Hospital, the The- 
 atre at Oxford, Trinity College Library, 
 Emanuel College, Cambridge, the Mo- 
 nument in London, and Queen Anne's 
 fifty churches. The recent addition of 
 churches to London may render a list of 
 the expences of Sir Christopher Wren's 
 edifices useful. 
 
 Cost op the London Churches, built by 
 Sir Christopher Wren, including the 
 Monument. 
 
 £. 
 
 St. Paul's Cathedral . . 736,752 
 
 Allhallows- the Great . . 5641 
 
 AUhallows, Bread-street . 3348 
 
 Allhallows, Lombard-street 8058 15 
 
 St. Alban, Wood-street 
 
 St. Anne and Agnes . 
 
 St Andrew, Wardrobe 
 
 St. Andrew, Holbom 
 
 St. Antholin . . . 
 
 St. Austin 3145 3 10 
 
 St. Benet, Gracechurch . 3583 9 5i 
 
 St. Benet, Paul's Wharf . 3328 18 10 
 
 St. Benet, Fink .... 4129 16 10 
 
 St. Bride 11,430 5 11 
 
 St. Bartholomew . . , 
 
 Christ Church . . . 
 
 St. Clement, Eastcheap 
 
 St. Clement Danes . . 
 
 St. Dionis Backchurch 
 
 St. Edmund the King 
 
 St. George, Botolph-lane 
 
 St, James, Garlick-hill 
 
 St. Jajiss, Westminster 
 
 St. Lawrence, Jewry . 
 
 St. Michael, Basinghall 
 
 St. Michael Royal . . 
 
 d. 
 
 ^ 
 
 9 
 2 
 6 
 
 3165 8 
 2448 10 
 7060 16 11 
 9000 
 5685 5 10* 
 
 5077 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 11,778 
 
 9 
 
 6 
 
 4365 
 
 3 
 
 4^ 
 
 8786 
 
 17 
 
 0^ 
 
 5737 
 
 10 
 
 8 
 
 5207 
 
 11 
 
 
 
 4509 
 
 4 
 
 10 
 
 5357 
 
 12 
 
 10 
 
 8500 
 
 
 
 
 
 11,870 
 
 1 
 
 9 
 
 2822 
 
 17 
 
 1 
 
 7455 
 
 7 
 
 9 
 
 St. Michael, Queenhithe . 
 St. Michael, Wood-street 
 St. Michael, Crooked-lane 
 St. Michael, Comhill . . 
 St, Martin, Ludgate . . 
 St Matthew, Friday-street 
 St. Margaret Pattens . . 
 St. Margaret, Lothbury . 
 ■ St. Mary, Abchurch . . 
 St. Mary Magdalen . , 
 St. Mary Somerset . . . 
 St. Mary at Hill . . . 
 St. Mary, Aldermanbury . 
 St. Mary le Bow . . . 
 St. Mary le Steeple . . 
 St. Magnus, London Bridge 9579 
 St. Mildred, Bread-street 3705 
 St. Mildred, Poultry . . 
 St. Nicholas Cole Abbey . 
 St. Olave, Jewry . . . 
 St. Peter, Comhill . . 
 St. Svrithin, Canon-street. 
 St. Stephen, Walbrook . 
 St. Stephen, Coleman-street 4020 
 St. Vedast, Foster-lane , 1853 
 The Monument . . , . 8856 
 
 4354 
 2554 
 4541 
 4686 
 5378 
 2301 
 4986 
 5340 
 4922 
 4291 
 6579 
 3980 
 5237 
 8071 
 7388 
 
 4654 
 5042 
 5580 
 5647 
 4687 
 7652 
 
 246 
 
 3 8 
 2 11 
 5 11 
 
 5 11 
 18 8 
 
 8 2 
 
 10 4 
 
 8 1 
 
 2 4i 
 12 9J 
 18 11 
 
 12 3 
 
 3 6 
 
 18 1 
 
 8 7| 
 
 19 10 
 
 13 6i 
 
 9 7i 
 
 6 11 
 
 4 10 
 8 2 
 4 6 
 
 13 8 
 
 16 6 
 
 15 6 
 
 8 0* 
 
 h. m, 
 February 25. Day breaks . . 5 50 
 Sun rises ... 6 43 
 — sets ... 5 17 
 Twilight ends . 7 10 
 Beetle willow flowers, and is quickly 
 succeeded by most of the tribe. The 
 willow afibrds the " palm," which is still 
 fetched into town on Palm Sunday. 
 
 ^efituatfi 26. 
 
 1723. Feb. 26. Died, "Tom D'Urfey," 
 or, as Noble calls him, Thomas D'Urfey, 
 Esq. He was bred to the bar. With too 
 much wit, and too little diligence, for the 
 law, and too little means to live upon 
 " as a gentleman," he experienced the 
 varied fortunes of men with sparkling 
 talents, who trust to their pens for their 
 support. Little more is known of D' 
 Urfey, than that he was born in Devon- 
 shire. His plays, which are numerous, 
 have not been acted for many years, and 
 his poems are seldom read. He was an 
 accepted wit at court, after the restoration. 
 Charles II. would often lean on his 
 shoulder, and hum a tune with him ; and 
 he frequently entertained qjieen Anne, by 
 
 • Gents. Mag. 1784. 
 
247 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 27. 
 
 248 
 
 singing catches and glees. He was called 
 " Honest Tom," and, being a tory, was 
 beloved by the tories; yet his manners 
 were equally liked by the whigs. The 
 author of the prologue to D'Urfey's last 
 play, says, 
 
 Though Tom the poet writ with ease and 
 
 pleasure. 
 The comic Tom ahounds ia other treasure. 
 
 says Addison, " and I hope they will 
 make him easy, as long as he stays among 
 us. This I will take upon me to say, 
 they cannot do a kindness to a more di- 
 verting companion, or a more cheerful, 
 honest, good-natured man." 
 
 D'Urfey died aged, and was buried in 
 the cemetery of St. James's Church, 
 Westminster. 
 
 D'Urfey, and Bello, a musician, had 
 high words once at Epsom, and swords 
 were resorted to, but with great caution. 
 A brother wit maliciously compared this 
 rencontre with that mentioned in Sir 
 Philip Sidney's Arcadia, between Clinias 
 and Dametas. 
 
 D'Urfey's « Pills to purge Melancholy" 
 
 are usually among the "facetiae" of private 
 
 libraries. Addison was a friend to him, 
 
 and often pleaded with the public in his 
 
 behalf.—" He has made the world merry," 
 
 " I sing of a duel in Epsom befel, 
 'Twixt Fa sol la D'Urfey, and Sol la mi Bell : 
 But why do I mention the scribbling brother. ? 
 ' For, naming the one, you may guess at the other. 
 
 Betwixt them there happen'd a terrible clutter ; 
 Bell set up the loud pipes, and D'Urfey did sputter — 
 ' Draw, Bell, wert thou dragon, I'll spoil thy soft note 
 • For thy squalling,' said t'other, ' I'll cut thy throat.' 
 With a scratch on the finger the duel's dispatch'd; 
 Thy Clinias, O Sidney, was never so match'd." 
 
 " Tom Brown'' was another of the 
 wits, as they were called in a licentious 
 age. His father was a Shropshire farmer, 
 and Tom was educated at Newport school, 
 and Christ Church College, Oxford. 
 Taking advantage of a remittance from an 
 indulgent parent, and thinking he had a 
 sufi5ciency of learning and wit, he left 
 Oxford, for London. He soon saw his 
 last " golden Carolus Secundus" reduced 
 to " fractions,'' and exchanged the gay 
 metropolis for Kingston-upon-Thames, 
 where he became a .schoolmaster; for 
 which situation he was admirably qualified 
 by a competent knowledge of the Latin, 
 Greek, French, Italian, and Spanish lan- 
 guages. But he lacked diligence, became 
 disgusted with keeping a school, returned 
 to London, and the wits laughed. His 
 " Conversion of Mr. Bays," related in 
 dialogue, raised his character with the 
 public, for sense and humor. This was 
 followed by other dialogues, odes, satires, 
 letters, epigrams, and numerous transla- 
 tions. But Tom's tavern bills were long, 
 and he lived solely by a pen, which, as 
 v/ell as his tongue, made him more ene- 
 mies than friends. In company he was a 
 railing buffoon, and he liberally scattered 
 low abuse, especially against the clergy. 
 He became indigent : lord Dorset, pitying 
 his misfortunes, invited him to a Christ- 
 mas dinner, and put a £50 note under his 
 
 plate , and Dryden made him a handsome 
 present. He dissipated abilities and ac- 
 quirements sufiScient to have raised him 
 to a respectable situation in any rank of 
 life, Snd died in great poverty in 1704. 
 His remains were interred near those of 
 his intimate friend, and co-adjutress, 
 Mrs. Behn, in the cloisters of Westminster 
 abbey.* 
 
 
 'h. m. 
 
 February 26. Day breaks . . 
 
 4 48 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 6 41 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 5 19 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 7 12 
 
 Early whitlow grass flowers. 
 
 
 dFef)vuavv! 27. 
 
 Hare hunting ends to day, and this 
 termination is usually celebrated by 
 sportsmen with convivial dinners, and 
 toasts of " success to the next merry meet- 
 ing." 
 
 1734-5, Died Dr. John Arhuthnot, 
 a physician, and a deservedly eminent 
 wit, and man of letters, among the choice 
 spirits of the reign of queen Anne. He 
 was of an ancient and honorable family 
 
 Noble. 
 
249 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 
 
 28. 
 
 250 
 
 in Scotland, one branch of which is en- 
 nobled. His father was an episcopal cler- 
 gyman, and he was born at Arbuthnot, 
 in Kincardineshire. After receiving an 
 education at Aberdeen, he came to Eng- 
 land with the degree of doctor, but with- 
 out money or friends ; for his father being 
 a nonjuror^ and living upon a small patri- 
 mony, was incapable of providing for his 
 children. The doctor went to practice 
 pbysic at Dorchester, but the salubrity of 
 the air was unfriendly to his success, and 
 he took horse for London. A neighbour, 
 meeting him on full gallop, asked him 
 where he was going ? " To leave your 
 confounded place, where I can neither 
 live nor die." Mr. William Pate, " the 
 learned woollen draper," • gave him. an 
 asylum at his house in the metropolis, 
 where he taught mathematics, without 
 venturing on medicine. Objections which 
 he urged, without his name, against 
 Dr. Woodward's Account of the Deluge, 
 raised him into esteem, and he resumed 
 his profession, in which he soon ob- 
 tained celebrity. His wit and plea- 
 santry some time assisted his prescriptions, 
 and in some cases superseded the neces- 
 sity of prescribing. Queen Anne and 
 her consort appoiiTted him their physician ; 
 the Royal Society elected him a member, 
 and the college of Physicians followed. 
 He gained the admiration of Swift, Pope, 
 and Gray, and 'With them he wrote and 
 laughed. No man had more friends, or 
 fewer enemies ; yet he did not want energy 
 of character ; he diverged from the laugh- 
 ter-loving mood to tear away the mask 
 from the infamous " Charitable Corpora- 
 tion." He could do all things well but 
 walk. His health declined, while his mind 
 remained sound to the last. He long 
 wished for death to release him from a 
 complication of disorders, and declared 
 himself tired with " keeping so much bad 
 company." A few weeks before his de- 
 cease he wrote, " I am as well as a man 
 can be who is gasping for breath, and has 
 a house full of men and women unprovided 
 for." Leaving Hampstead, he breathed 
 his last at his residence in Cork street, 
 Burlington Gardens. Dr. Arbuthnot was 
 a man of great humanity and benevolence. 
 Swift said to Pope, — " O that the world 
 had hut a dozen Arbuthnots in it, I would 
 burn my travels." Pope no less passion- 
 ately lamented him, and said of him ; — 
 " He was a man of humor, whose mind 
 seemed to be always pregnant with comic 
 ideas."Arbuthnot was, indeed, seldom seri- 
 
 ous, except in his attacks upon great enor- 
 mities, and then his pen was masterly. 
 The condemnation of the play of « Three 
 Hours after Marriage," written by him. 
 Pope, and Gay, was published by Wilkes, 
 in his prologue to the " Sultaness." 
 
 " Such were the wags, who boldly did adven- 
 ture 
 
 To club a farce by tripartite indenture ; 
 
 But let them share their dividend of praise. 
 
 And wear their own fool's cap instead of 
 bayts." 
 
 Arbuthnot amply retorted, in " Gulliver 
 decyphered." Satire was his chief wea- 
 pon, but the wound he inflicted on folly 
 soon healed : he was always playful, un- 
 less he added weight to keenness for the 
 chastisement of crime. His miscellaneous 
 works were printed in two volumes, but 
 the genuineneness of part of the contents 
 has been doubted. He wrote papers for the 
 Royal Society, a work on Aliments, 'and 
 Tables of Ancient Coins, Weights, and 
 Measures.* 
 
 February 27. 
 
 Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 — sets . 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 
 4 47 
 
 6 39 
 
 5 2 
 
 7 3 
 
 Gorse, upon heaths and wastes, i. flc wer . 
 
 ^ttvuavp 28. 
 
 In the February of 1798 died at Car- 
 lisle, aged sixty-six, Mr. J. Strong, who, 
 though blind from his infancy, distin- 
 guished himself by a- wonderful profi- 
 ciency in mechanics. At an early age he 
 constructed an organ, his only knowledge 
 of such an instrument having been pre- 
 viously obtained by once secreting himself 
 in the cathedral after the evening service, 
 and thereby getting an opportunity of ex- 
 amining the instrument. Having dis- 
 posed of his first organ, he made another, 
 upon which he was accustomed to play 
 during his life. At twenty years of age 
 he could make himself almost every ar- 
 ticle of dress, and was often heard to say 
 that the first pair of shoes which he made 
 Vvere for the purpose of walking to Lon- 
 don, to " visit the celebrated Mr. Stanley, 
 organist of the Temple church." This 
 visit he actually paid, and was much gra- 
 tified with the journey. He indulged hi» 
 fancy in making a great variety of minia- 
 
 * Noble, &c. 
 
251 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 29, 
 
 252 
 
 ture figures and machines, beside almost 
 every article of household fuiniture. He 
 married at the age of twenty-five, and had 
 several children. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 February 28. Day breaks . . 4 45 
 
 Sun rises . . 6 37 
 
 — sets . . 5 23 
 
 Twilight ends . 7 15 
 
 Lent lily flowers. 
 
 Primroses increase in flowering. 
 
 dFebiniatB 29. 
 
 Memorandum. 
 
 The birthday of a person born on this 
 intercalary day can only be celebrated in 
 leap year. 
 
 On the 29th of February, 1744, died 
 at his lodging at the Bedford Coffee-house, 
 Covent Garden, Dr. John Theophilus De- 
 saguliers, an eminent natural philosopher. 
 He was the son of a French Protestant cler- 
 gyman, and educated at Christ's College, 
 Cambridge. He took orders, and settled 
 in London, though he held the donative 
 of Whitchurch, in Middlesex, which he 
 was presented with by the duke of Chan- 
 dos. He was the first person who lec- 
 tured on experimental pfrilosophy in the 
 metropolis, and his lectures were pub- 
 lished in two volumes, quarto, besides 
 other philosophical works, and a thanks- 
 giving sermon, preached before his sove- 
 reign. The Royal Society appointed him 
 a salary, to enable him to exhibit before 
 them a variety of new experiments, and 
 several of his papers are preserved in their 
 transactions. He was a man of real 
 ability, and, when a housekeeper, usually 
 had pupils at home with him. His in- 
 come was considerable, and he kept an 
 equipage. His coachman, Erasmus King, 
 from the force of example, became a kind 
 of rival to the Doctor; for he, also, under- 
 took to read lectures, and exhibit experi- 
 ments in natural philosophy. His " Ly- 
 ceum " was at Lambeth Marsh ; and his 
 terras of admission were proportioned to 
 the humble situation he had filled. 
 
 Superstitions, 1831. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 From personal observations I have col- 
 le< ted a few of thff popular superstitions 
 
 of the present day, at which the rising 
 generation may smile when the crpdulous 
 are dead and only remembered fo their 
 fond belief. 
 
 Fortune-telling has become rather un- 
 fashionable since the invention of the 
 tread-mill, but still many a "cunning 
 man," and many a " cunning woman," 
 pretends to unfold future events to vi- 
 sitors of every degree, from the servant 
 girl, who desires to know if John will be 
 faithful, to the rich heiress, and the 
 wealthy matron. 
 
 There are still a few respectable trades- 
 men and merchants who will not transact 
 business, or be bled, or take physic, on a 
 Friday, because it is an unlucky day. 
 There are other people who, for the same 
 reason, will not be married on a Friday ; 
 others, again, who consider every child 
 bom on that day doomed to misfortune. 
 It is a common saying, and popular be- 
 lief, that, 
 
 " Fiidaynights' dreams on the Saturday told 
 Are sure to come true be it never so old/' 
 
 Many believe that the bowlings of a 
 dog foretel death, and that dogs can see 
 death enter the houses ^f people who are 
 about to die. 
 
 Among common sayings at present are 
 these — that pigs can see the wind— hairy 
 people are born to be uch— and people 
 born at night never see spirits. 
 
 Again, if a cat sneezes or coughs, every 
 person in the house will have colds. In 
 the morning, if, without knowing or in- 
 tending it, you put on your stockings the 
 wrong side outwards, you will have good 
 luck all day. 
 
 To give to, or receive from, a friend a 
 knife or a pair of scissars cuts friendship. 
 
 While talking thoughtlessly with a good 
 woman, I carelessly turned a chair round 
 two or three times; she was offended, 
 and said it was a sign we should quarrel: 
 and so it proved; for she never spoke 
 friendly to me afterwards. 
 
 When your cheek burns, it is a sign 
 some one is talking about you. When 
 your ears tingle lies are being told about 
 you. When your nose itches, you will 
 be vexed. When your right eye itches, it 
 is a sign of good luck ; or your left eye, 
 of bad luck ; but 
 
 " Left or right 
 Brings good at night." 
 
 These are every day sayings, and things 
 of every day belief. 
 
253 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 29. 
 
 It is further believed that children will 
 not thrive if they are not christened ; and, 
 if they do not cry during the ceremony, 
 that they will not live long. 
 
 It is unluclty to pare your finger nails 
 on a Sunday. 
 
 To prevent ill luck from meeting a 
 squint-eyed person, you must spit three 
 times ; and when you pass under a ladder 
 you must spit through it, or three times 
 afterwards. 
 
 If a married woman loses her wedding 
 ring, it is a token that she will lose her 
 husband's affections ; her breaking of it, 
 forebodes death. 
 
 A spark in the candle, is a sign of a 
 letter coming. 
 
 Bubbles upon tea, denote kisses. 
 
 Birds' eggs hung up in a house, are un- 
 lucky. 
 
 Upon new year's day if you have not 
 something new on, you will not get much 
 all the year. 
 
 To cure your corns, you must steal a 
 very small bit of beef, bury it in the 
 ground, and as that rots the corns will 
 go away, even though you are put upon 
 the tread mill for the theft. 
 
 There are dames in the country who, 
 to cure the hooping cough, pass the 
 afflicted child three time before breakfast 
 under a blackberry bush, both ends of 
 which grow into the ground. Other 
 country women travel the road to meet a 
 man on a piebald horse, and ask him 
 what will cure the hooping cough, and 
 whatever he recommends is adopted as 
 an infallible remedy. There was one 
 remarkable cure of this kind. A young 
 mother made an enquiry of a man 
 mounted as directed; he told her to put 
 her finger, to the knuckle joint, down the 
 child's throat, and hold it there twenty 
 minutes by the church clock. She went 
 home, and did so, and it never coughed 
 again. 
 
 Some persons carry in their pockets a 
 piece of coffin, to keep away the cramp. 
 
 Stockings are hung crosswise at the 
 foot of the bed, with a pin stuck in them, 
 to keep off the nightmare. 
 
 To prevent dreaming about a dead 
 body, you must touch it. 
 
 To always have money in your pocket, 
 put into it small spiders, called money 
 spinners : or keep in your purse a bent 
 coin, or a coin with a hole in it; at 
 every new moon take it out and spit 
 upon it, return it to your pocket, and 
 wish yourself good luck. 
 
 254 
 
 In Berkshire, at the first appearance of 
 a new moon, maidens go into the fields, 
 and, while they look at it, say, 
 
 New moon, new moon, I hail thee ! 
 By all the virtue in thy body. 
 Grant this niglit that I may see 
 He who my true love is to be. 
 
 They then return home, firmly believing 
 that before morning their future husbands 
 will appear to them in their dreams. 
 
 The left seat at the gateway of the en- 
 trance to the church-yard at Yarmouth is 
 called the Devil's seat, and is supposed 
 to render any one who sits upon it parti- 
 cularly liable to misfortunes ever after- 
 wards. 
 
 Divination is not altogether obsolete. 
 
 A few evenings ago a neighbour's 
 daughter came to request of me the loan 
 of a Bible. As I knew they had one of 
 their own, I enquired why mine was 
 wanted. She said that one of their 
 lodgers, a disagreeable woman, had lost 
 one of her husband's shirts, and, suspect- 
 ing the thief to be in the house, was 
 going to find it out by the Bible and 
 key; and, for this purpose, neither a 
 Bible nor a key belonging to any person 
 living in the house would do. Find a 
 thief by the Bible and key, thought I ; 
 I'll even go and be spectator of this cere- 
 mony. So I gave the child a Bible and 
 went with her. I found the people of 
 the house assembled together, and a 
 young boy and girl to hold the apparatus ; 
 for it seems it can only he done properly 
 by a bachelor and a maid. The key was 
 bound into the Bible against the first 
 chapter of Ruth and part of the seven- 
 teenth verse, " the Lord do so to me and 
 more also," and strict silence and gravity 
 were then enjoined, and the ceremony 
 began. First, the boy and girl placed 
 their left hands behind their backs, and 
 the key balanced on the middle fingers of 
 their right hands : then, the woman who 
 had lost the above-mentioned article 
 named a person, and said, " the Lord do 
 so to me and more also, has he [or she] 
 got my husband's shirt." Nearly all the 
 names of the people in the house had 
 been repeated, when, upon the name of 
 an old crony of the loser being mentioned, 
 the urchin who held the Bible suspended 
 from the key gave his hand a slight motion 
 — down went the Bible, and the scene of 
 pro-ing and con-ing which ensued would 
 beggar description. During the disturb- 
 ance I thought it better to look on and 
 
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 29. 
 
 255 
 
 laugh, and retired to a corner of the 
 room, expecting every instant to see 
 them do battle. At the height of the 
 disturbance the loser's husband came 
 home, and, upon learning the cause of the 
 disturbance, said he had removed the 
 shirt himself, and put it into his chest. 
 Indignation was now turned against the 
 person who had advised the mode of divin- 
 ing its discovery by the borrowed Bible and 
 key ; but she boldly defended it, and said 
 it never failed before, nor would it have 
 failed then, had not the man in the 
 corner, meaning me, laughed; and, she 
 added, with malicious solemnity, that the 
 Bible would not be laughed at. I re- 
 treated from a gathering storm, and re- 
 turned home, to note dovra the proceed- 
 ings, and forward them to the Year Book. 
 
 j s S — LLM — H. 
 
 January, 1831. 
 
 VARIA, 
 An Irish Inventory. 
 
 This 29th of February 
 I'll take — let's see — to keep me merry. 
 An Invent'ry of what I'm worth. 
 In goods, and chattels, and so forth. 
 
 A bed, the best you ever saw. 
 With belly-fuU of hay and straw ; 
 On which an Irish prince might sleep, 
 iVith blankets warm from off the sheep, 
 A table next, around whose coast 
 
 The full-charged glass has often sail'd, 
 And sparkled to the sparkling toast, 
 
 Whilst love with ease the heart assail'd : 
 A platter thin, a large round O, 
 A pot as black as any crow, 
 Ln which we bake, as well as boil. 
 And melt the butter into oil. 
 And, if occasion, make a posset ; 
 A spigot, but we've lost the fosset ; 
 A spoon to dash through thick and thin ; 
 And, best of all, a rolling-pin. 
 A good fat hog, a cow in calf ^ 
 In cash a guinea and a half ; 
 A cellar stor'd with foaming beer. 
 And bacon all the livelong year ; 
 A hearty welcome for a friend ; 
 And thus my Invent'ry shall end. 
 
 Conclusive Answers. 
 Campistron, the French poet, the favo- 
 rite and secretary of the duke de Vendome, 
 was gay and volatile, and little fitted for 
 all a secretary's duties. One day, the 
 duke quaintly pointed him out to an- 
 other nobleman, and observed " There sits 
 my secretary, busy with his answers." 
 Campistron was engaged in burning a 
 quantity of letters, addressed to the duke, 
 
 25a 
 
 to save "himself the trouble of acknowledg- 
 ing them. This was his practice with all 
 epistles which were not of great import- 
 ance : he called it despatching business. 
 
 My Little Dog Bobb ! 
 
 An Elegy. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 My friends they are cutting me, one and all. 
 With a changed and a cloudy brow ; 
 
 But my little dog always would come at my 
 call— 
 And why has he not come now 1 
 
 Oh ! if he be living, he'd greet me, — but why 
 Do I hope with a doubtful " if ? " 
 
 When I come, and there is not a joy in his 
 eye — 
 When I come, and his tail lieth stiff? 
 
 Ah me ! not a single friend may I keep ! — 
 From the false I am gladly free. 
 
 And the true and the trusty have fallen asleep. 
 And sleep — without dreaming of me I 
 
 I have got my own soul fastened firmly and 
 tight. 
 And my cold heart is safe in my bosom ; — ■ 
 But I would not now trust *em out of my 
 sight — 
 Or I'm positive I should lose 'em ! 
 
 My one sole comrade is now no more \ 
 And I needs must mumble and mutter. 
 
 That he, who had lived in a kennel before. 
 At last should die in z, gutter ! 
 
 He could fight any beast from a cow to a cat. 
 
 And catch any bird for his feast : 
 But, ah ! he was killed by a big brick-bat~- 
 ' And a bat'a nor a bird nor' a beast I 
 
 He died of the blow ! — 'twas a sad hard blow 
 Both to me and the poor receiver ; 
 
 I wish that instead 'twere a fever, I know ;«- 
 For his bark might have cured a fever ! 
 
 His spirit, escaped from its carnal rags. 
 
 Is a poodle all wan and pale ; 
 It howls an inaudible howl, — and it wags 
 
 The ghost of a shadowy tail ! 
 
 Old Charon will tout for his penny in vain, 
 If my Bob but remembers his tricks ; 
 
 For he, who so often sprang over my cane, 
 Will easily leap o'er the Styx .' 
 
 If Cerberus snai-ls at the gentle dead, 
 
 He'll act but a dogged part j 
 The fellow may, p'rhaps, have a treble head, 
 
 But he'll have but a..ba8e bad heart ! 
 
 Farewell my dear Bob, I will keep your akin. 
 And your tail with its noble tuft ; 
 
 I have kept it through life, rather skinny an» 
 thin, — 
 Now I will have it properly stuff 'd. 
 
 Promethecs Pekcival Pipps. 
 
3 S57 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH. 
 
 2Sb 
 
 MARCH. 
 
 Vql. I.— 9 
 
 March, month of " many weathers," wildly comes 
 In hail, and siiow, and rain, and threatening hums, 
 
 And floods ; while often at his cottage-door 
 
 The shepherd stands, to hear the distant roar 
 Loosed from the rushing mills and river-locks, 
 With thundering sound and overpowering shocks. 
 From bank to bank, along the meadow lea, 
 The river spreads, and shines a little sea ; 
 While, in the pale sun-light, a watery brood 
 Of swopping white birds flock about the flood. 
 
 Clare's Shepherd'i CalenHiir, 
 K 
 
259 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH. 
 
 260 
 
 In « The Book of the Seasons, By Wil- 
 liam Howitt" — which appeared since the 
 former portions of the YearyBook — ^there 
 is the following character of this month, 
 which may tempt readers to afford them- 
 selves the pleasure of possessing Mr. 
 Howitt's work; it is a volume of delight 
 to lovers of nature, as may be conceived 
 from what its author says : — 
 
 March. 
 March is a rude and boisterous month, 
 possessing many of the characteristics of 
 winter, yet awakening sensations perhaps 
 more delicious than the two following 
 spring months; for it gives us the first 
 announcement and taste of spring. What 
 can equal the delight of our hearts at the 
 very first glimpse of spring — the first 
 springing of buds and green herbs. It is 
 like a new life infused into our bosoms. 
 A spirit of tenderness, a burst of freshness 
 and luxury of feeling possesses us : and, 
 let fifty springs have broken upon us, this 
 joy, unlike many joys of time, is not an 
 atom impaired. Are we not young? Are 
 we not boys ? Do we not break, by the 
 power of awakened thoughts, into all the 
 rapturous scenes of all our happier years? 
 There is something in the freshness of the 
 soil — in the mossy bank — the balmy air 
 — the voices of birds — the early and deli- 
 cious flowers, that we have seen and felt 
 only in childhood and spriitg. 
 
 There are frequently mornings in March 
 when a lover of nature may enjoy, in a 
 stroU, sensations not to be exceeded, or 
 perhaps equalled, by any thing which the 
 full glory of summer can awaken : morn- 
 ings which tempt us to cast the memory 
 of winter, or the fear of its return, out of 
 our thoughts. The air is mild and balmy, 
 with now and then a cool gush, by no 
 means unpleasant, but, on the contrary, 
 contributing towards that cheering and 
 peculiar feeling which we experience only 
 in spring. The sky is clear; the sun 
 flings abroad not only a gladdening splen- 
 dor, but an almost summer glow. The 
 world seems suddenly aroused to hope 
 and enjoyment. The fields are assuming 
 a vernal greenness — the buds are swelling 
 in the hedges — the banks are displaying, 
 amidst the brown remains of last year's 
 vegetation, the luxuriant weeds of this. 
 There are arums, ground ivy, chervil, the 
 glaucus leaves, and burnished flowers of 
 the pilewort, 
 
 The first gilt thing 
 That wears the trembling pearls of spring ; 
 
 and many other fresh and early bursts of 
 greenery. All unexpectedly, too, in some 
 embowered lane, you are arrested by the 
 delicious odor of violets, those sweetest 
 of Flora's children, which have furnished 
 so many pretty allusions to the poets, and 
 which are not yet exhausted : they are 
 like true friends, we do not know half 
 their sweetness till they have felt the sun- 
 shine of our kindness : and again, they are 
 like the pleasures of our childhood, the 
 earliest and the most beautiful. Now, 
 however, they are to be seen in all their 
 glory, blue and white, modestly peering 
 through their thick, clustering leaves. 
 The lark is carolling in the blue fields of 
 air ; the blackbird and thrush are again 
 shouting and replying to each other, from 
 the tops of the highest trees. As you pass 
 cottages, they have caught the happy in- 
 fection : there are windows thrown open, 
 and doors standing ajar. The inhabitants 
 are in their gardens, some clearing away 
 rubbish, some turning up the light and 
 fresh-smelling soil amongst the tufts of 
 snow-drops and rows of bright yellow 
 crocuses, which every where abound ; and 
 the children, ten to one, are peeping into 
 the first bird's-nest of the season — the 
 hedge-sparrow's, with its four sea-green 
 eggs, snugly, but unwisely, built in the 
 pile of old pea rods. 
 
 In the fields, laborers are plashing and 
 trimming the hedges, and in all directions 
 are teams at plough. You smell the 
 wholesome, and, 'I may truly say, aromatic 
 soil, as it is turned up to the sun, brown 
 and rich, the whole country over. It is 
 delightful, as you pass along hollow lanes, 
 or are hidden in copses, to hear the tink- 
 ling gears of the horses, and the clear 
 voices of the lads calling to them. It is 
 not less pleasant to catch the busy caw of 
 of the rookery, and the first meek cry of 
 the young lambs. The hares are hopping 
 about the fields, the excitement of the 
 season overcoming their habitual timidity. 
 The bees are revelling in the yellow cat' 
 kins of the sallows.* 
 
 Bees. — The Rev. Mark Noble says, 
 " Few persons have seen more of bees 
 than the inhabitants of my rural resi- 
 dence ; but, after great expense, incurred 
 in endeavouring to forward their opera- 
 tions, perhaps the cottager's humble me- 
 thod is the best for profit." 
 
 • Howitt's Book of the Seasons. 
 
set 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH. 
 
 269 
 
 A writer, m former times, of " Hindsome 
 Descriptions," gently entreats us in spring 
 — " Weep no more, faire weather is re- 
 turned ; the sunne is reconciled to man- 
 kind, and his heat hath made winter find 
 his leggs, as benumb'd as they were. — 
 The aire, not long since so condens'd by 
 the frost that there was not room enough 
 for the birds, seems now to be but a great 
 imaginary space, where shrill musicians 
 (hardly supported by our thoughts) ap- 
 peare in the sky like little worlds, bal- 
 Janccd by their proper centre : there were 
 no colds in the country whence they 
 came, for here they chatter sweetly. Na- 
 ture brings forth in all places, and her 
 children, as they are borne, play in their 
 ciadles. Consider the Zephyrus which 
 dares hardly breathe in feare, how she 
 playes and courts the corn. One would 
 think the grasse the haire of the earth, 
 and this wind a combe tliat is carefiill to 
 untangle it. I think the very sun wooes 
 this season; for I have observed that, 
 wheresoever he retires, he still keeps close 
 to her. Those insolent northern winds 
 that braved us in the absence of this 
 god of tranquillity, (surprised at his 
 coming), unite thermelves to his rayes 
 to obtain his pardon by their caresses, 
 and those that are greater offenders hide 
 themselves in his atomes, and are quiet 
 for fear of being discovered : all things that 
 are hurtfuU enjoy a free life ; nay, our very 
 soul wanders beyond her confines, to 
 show she is not under restraint."* 
 
 Alimentary Calendar. 
 
 On Spring. 
 
 My sense is lavish'd, when I see 
 This happie season's Jubilee. 
 What shall I term iti a new birtn : 
 The resurrection of the earth. 
 Which hath heen buriedj we know. 
 In a cold winding-sheet of snow. 
 The winter's breath had pav'd all o'er 
 With crystal marble th' world's great floor ; 
 But now the earth is livery'd 
 111 verdant suits, by April dy'd ; 
 And, in despight of Boreas' spleen, 
 Deck'd with a more accomplish'd green. 
 The gaudy primrose long since hath 
 Sisclos'd her beauty, by each path. 
 The trees, robb'd of their leafie pride. 
 With mossie frize hath cloath'd each side , 
 Whose hoary beards seem'd to presage 
 To blooming youth their winter's age : 
 Bat now invite to come and lie, 
 Under their gnitted canopie.t 
 
 * Bergerac's Satyrical Characters. 1658. 
 t Daniel Cndmore's Sacred Poems, 1655. 
 
 March begins with a festival— the anni- 
 versary of St. David, the patron saint of 
 Wales, which is kept by the natives of the 
 principality dining together, and spending 
 the day convivially. The irth of the 
 month, St. Patrick's day, is celebrated by 
 the sons of Erin, with a rapture of feeling 
 and height of spirit which only Irishmen 
 know. No particular national dish is 
 brought forward on these occasions, though 
 Irish pork and Welch mutton are men- 
 tioned with the same kind of distinction 
 as English beef. 
 
 Turbot, though in season all the year, 
 is now in great request, and large quanti- 
 ties are brought by Dutch fishermen from 
 (he sandbanks on the coast of Holland, 
 which are most congenial to the breed of 
 this fine fish. The fishing boats are pro 
 vided with wells in which the fish are kept 
 alive. The vast sums paid annually, by 
 the citizens of London, for turbot, afford 
 proof of their taste and spirit in maintain- 
 ing the glory of the table. Turbot is also 
 brought occasionally from Scotland packed 
 in ice. 
 
 The delicate whiting is now in great 
 perfection, and smelts during this and the 
 two following months are in high request. 
 
 The best smelts are taken in the Thames : 
 when perfectly fresh they are stiff and 
 smell like » fresh cut cucumber. They 
 are sold by tale, and vary in price from 
 six to fifteen shillings a hundred. They 
 are usually fried, and served up with 
 melted butter, and a Seville orange or 
 lemon. 
 
 The John Dory makes his first appear- 
 ance this month, and, notwithstanding the 
 tincouthness of his physiognomy and the 
 ugliness of his person, is a welcome guest 
 at the most elegant tables until the end of 
 June. He is indebted for this gracious 
 reception to his intrinsic merits, which 
 more than atone for the disadvantages of 
 his exterior, and are of so high an o^der 
 that Quin — an eminent judge — who first 
 brought John Dory into fashion, bestowed 
 on him the title of "king offish." The 
 gurnet is in season for the same period ; 
 as also is the jack. 
 
 Leverets are fit for table from this month 
 until about midsummer. Dovecote and 
 wood-pigeons, together with a variety of 
 wild fowl, are in great request, as well as 
 wild and tame rabbits. 
 
 The approach of spring begins to be 
 marked by an increasing supply of vegf 
 K2 
 
2C3 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH. 
 
 264 
 
 tables for sallads. Early radishes form an 
 agreeable accompaniment to the new cheese 
 now introduced; the most noted is from 
 Bath and York, but there are delicious 
 cream cheeses manufactured in the envi- 
 rons of the metropolis. Custard and 
 tansy puddings, stewed eggs, with spinach, 
 and mock green peas, formed of the tops 
 of forced asparagus, are among the lighter 
 dishes which characterise the season. The 
 strong winter soups are displaced by the 
 soups of spring, flavored with various 
 esculent and aromatic herbs. 
 
 Vegetable Garden Directory. 
 Sow 
 
 Beans ; the long pod, Sandwich, Wind- 
 sor, or Toker ; also. 
 
 Peas; imperial, Prussian, or marrow- 
 fat, once or twice ; or whenever the last 
 sown crops appear above ground. 
 
 Cabbages ; savoys, red-cabbage, Brus- 
 sels sprouts, borecole, about the first or 
 second week. 
 
 Beet-root, early in the month ; carrots, 
 parsnips, about the second week, for main 
 ciops ; or for succession, if the chief crops 
 were sown last month. 
 
 Lettuce, small salads, and spinach, for 
 .succession. 
 
 Onions ; the Spanish for main crop ; the 
 silver for drawing young. 
 
 Leeks and cardoons. Celery and cele- 
 riac, in a warm spot of ground. 
 
 Brocoli; the different sorts, once or 
 twice ; and the purple-cape, by M'Leod's 
 method, to obtain an early autumn supply. 
 
 Cauliflower ; about the third week, and 
 all the sweet herbs ; also nasturtium, pars- 
 ley, and turnips. 
 
 Radishes; the tap, and turnip-rooted, 
 twice or thrice. 
 
 Kidney-beans ; scarlet-runners, for the 
 first crops, during the fourth week ; and 
 salsafy, scorzonera, and skirrets. 
 Plant 
 
 Potatoes for the summer and autumn 
 supply. 
 
 Asparagus-beds ; artichokes from suck- 
 ers, in rows, each plant 4 or 5 feet apart. 
 
 Slips of balm, pennyroyal, sage, thyme, 
 savory, marjoram, rosemary, and lavender. 
 
 Transplant 
 
 Lettuces, to thin the seed-beds ; and all 
 other crops that require transplanting. 
 
 Sea-kale from beds of young plants, or 
 from cuttings of roots, with two or three 
 eyes or buds. 
 
 Fork and Dress 
 
 Asparagus beds as early as possible, if 
 that work remain to be done. 
 
 . -Dig 
 Artichoke plantations, after removing 
 the suckers. 
 
 Hoe and Thin 
 
 Spinach, and all other drilled crops. 
 
 Earth-up 
 
 Rows of peas, beans, and other crops, 
 when two of three inches high. 
 
 Stick 
 
 Peas before they feline to fall. 
 
 Hoe 
 
 Between all crops, and eradicate weeds 
 with the hand, where hoeing cannot be 
 practised. 
 
 Destroy 
 
 Slugs and snails ; they are most enemies 
 to young lettuces, peas, brocoli plants, 
 &;c. ; seek for them early and late ; and 
 sprinkle quick-lime dust, and a little com- 
 mon salt, about or around drills and 
 patches. 
 
 In those vernal seasons of the year 
 when the air is calm and pleasant, it were 
 an injury and sullenness against Nature 
 not to go out and see her riches, and par- 
 take in her rejoicmgs with heaven and 
 earth. — Milton. 
 
 Appearance of Nature in Spring. 
 
 The flow'rs that, frighten'd with sharp winter's dread, 
 
 Retire unto their mother Tellus' womb. 
 Yet in the spring in troops new mustered. 
 Peep out again from their unfrozen tomb : 
 The early violet will fresh arise. 
 Spreading his flower'd purple to the skies; 
 Boldly the little elf the winter's spite defies. 
 
S65 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 1 
 
 The hedge, green satin pink'd and cut arrays ; 
 
 The heliotrope to cloth of gold aspires ; 
 In hundred-colored silks the tulip plays ; 
 The imperial flower, his neck with pearl attires ; 
 The lily high her silver grogram rears ; 
 The pansy, her wrought velvet garment bears ; 
 The red-rose, scarlet, and the provence, damask wears. 
 ***** 
 
 The cheerful lark, mounting from early bed, 
 
 With sweet salutes awakes th"? drowsy light ; 
 The earth she left, and up to heav'n is fled ; 
 There chants her maker's praises out of sight. 
 Earth seems a mole-hill, men but ants to be ; 
 Reaching the proud that soar to high degree, 
 The further up they climb, the less they seem and see.* 
 
 266 
 
 iUarcf) 1. 
 
 St. David's Day. 
 
 On this great festival of the patron of 
 Wales, there is a very curious Latin 
 poem in excessive praise of the saint and 
 his counti-y, entitled " Martis Calendar, 
 sive landes Cambro-Britannicae." 
 
 On March 1, 1666-7, Mr. Pepys says, 
 " In Mark Lane I do observe (it being 
 St. David's Day) the picture of a man, 
 dressed like a Welchraan, hanging by the 
 neck upon one of the poles that stand 
 out at the top of one of the merchant's 
 houses, in ftill proportion, and very hand- 
 somely done ; which is one of the oddest 
 sights I have seen a good while." 
 
 Swig Day, at Cambridge. 
 
 On St. David's Day an immense silver 
 gilt bowl, containing ten gallons, which 
 was presented to Jesus College, Oxford, 
 by Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, in 1732, 
 •s filled with " swig," and handed round 
 to those who are invited to sit at the 
 festive and hospitable board .f 
 
 The punch-bowl has been often de- 
 scribed; but the ladle, its companion, 
 which holds a full Winchester half-pint, 
 has been always unjustly, for what reason 
 we know not, overlooked ; though it is 
 an established custom, when strangers 
 visit the bursary, where this bowl is kept, 
 to fill the ladle alone to the memory of 
 the worthy donor.J 
 
 * Phlneas Fletcher's Purple Island, 1633. 
 
 t Oxford Night Caps. 
 
 t A Conipaujon to the Guide. 
 
 The following is the method of manui- 
 facturing the grateful beverage before 
 mentioned under the denomination 
 
 Swig. 
 
 Put into a bowl half a pound of Lisbon 
 sugar; pour on it a pint of warm beer: 
 grate into it a nutmeg and some ginger ; 
 add four glasses of sherry and five addi- 
 tional pints of beer ; stir it well ; sweeten 
 it to your taste ; let it stand covered up 
 two or three hours ; then put into it three 
 or four slices of bread cut thin and 
 toasted brown, and it is fit for use. A 
 couple or three slices of lemon, and a 
 few lumps of sugar rubbed on the peeling 
 of a lemon, may be introduced. 
 
 Bottle the liquor, and in a few days it 
 may be drank in a state of effervescence.* 
 
 At Jesus College " swig " is called the 
 wassail bowl, or wassail cup ; but the 
 true wassail drink, though prepared in 
 nearly the. same way, instead of the 
 toasted bread, contained roasted apples, or 
 more properly crabs, the original apples of 
 England ; an allusion to which is ic 
 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 1 bob. 
 
 And un her wither'd dewlap pour the ale. 
 
 Another " pleasant tipple " at Oxford 
 is said to derive its name from one of the 
 fair sex, a bed-maker, who invariably re- 
 commended the potation to Oxonians 
 who availed themselves of her care ; it is 
 called 
 
 * Oxford Night Caps. 
 
267 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 2. 
 
 268 
 
 Beown Betty. 
 
 To make a brown Betty you must dis- 
 solve a pound of brown sugar in a pint 
 of water ; slice a lemon into it ; let it stand 
 a quarter of an hour; then add a small 
 quantity of powdered cloves and cinnamon, 
 lialf a pint of brandy, and a quart of good 
 strong ale ; stir all well together, put into 
 the mixture a couple of slices of toasted 
 bread, grate some nutmeg and ginger on 
 the toast, and you have a brown Betty. 
 Ice it, and you will find it excellent in 
 summer; warm it, and it will be right 
 comfortable in winter.* 
 
 Under the date of March 1, 1760, Ben 
 Tyrrell, the noted " Oxford Pieman," or 
 some one in his behalf, issued the fol- 
 lowing verses on his adventuring to an- 
 nounce an increase of his manufacture, 
 in anticipation of increased demand : — 
 
 Mutton Pies for the Assizes. 
 March t, 1760. 
 Behold, once more, facetious Ben 
 Steps from his paste to take the pen ; 
 And as the trumpets, shrill and loud. 
 Precede tlic sheriff's javelin'd crowd. 
 So Ben before-hand advertises 
 His snug-laid scheme for the Assizes. 
 Each of the evenings, Ben proposes. 
 With pies so nice to smoke your noses : 
 No cost, as heretofore, he grudges ; 
 He'll stand the test of able judges ; 
 And think that, when the halt is up. 
 How cheap a juryman may sup ! 
 For lawyer's clerks, in wigs so smart, 
 A tight warm room is set apart. — 
 My masters eke (might Ben advise ye), 
 Detained too long at nizey prizey, 
 Your college commons lost at six, — 
 At Ben's the jovial evening fix ; 
 From iriye-indentures, stale and dry, 
 Bscap'd to porter and a pie. 
 Hither, if ye have any taste, 
 Ye booted evidences, haste ! 
 Ye lasses too, both tall and slim. 
 In riding-habits dress'd so trim. 
 Who, usher'd by some young attorney. 
 Take, each assize, an Oxford journey ; 
 All who, subpoena'd on the occasion. 
 Require genteel accommodation. 
 Oh ! haste to Ben's, and save your fines 
 You'd pay at houses deck'd with signs ! 
 Lo I ! a cook of taste and knowledge. 
 And bred the coquus of a college. 
 Having long known the student's bounty. 
 Now dare to cater for the county. 
 
 * Oxford Night Caps. 
 
 On the 1st of March, 1818, died 
 Mr. Thomas Pleasants, an opulent and 
 benevolent native of Ireland. He be- 
 queathed his valuable collection of paint- 
 ings to the Dublin Society for the en- 
 couragement of the fine arts in Ireland, 
 and left £22,000 to various charitable 
 uses. In his life-time his beneficence 
 was various and splendid. Besides con- 
 tinned and extensive charities within his 
 private circle, he gave, in a time of ge- 
 neral calamity, £10,000 to the Murth 
 Hospital. In 1814, when 22,000 woollen 
 weavers of Dublin were out of employ- 
 ment, and suffering heart-rending distress, 
 in consequence of its being impossible to 
 dry the cloth during the inclemency of 
 the season, a sum of £3500 was required 
 for erecting a building to be applied to 
 that use. Petitions for that sum were 
 addressed to rich individuals and to parlia- 
 ment in vain, and every expedient to 
 raise the amount was abandoned in de- 
 spair. At that juncture Thomas Pleasants 
 stepped in, and at an expense of £14,000 
 purchased ground and built the Stove 
 Tentfer House for the use of the poor 
 weavers of Dublin for ever. He was at 
 the expense of erecting the handsome 
 gates and lodges of the Botanical Garden 
 near Dublin, and, by like acts of muni- 
 ficence, erected imperishable monuments 
 to his exalted humanity and patriotism. 
 
 h. m. 
 March 1. Day breaks . . . 4 43 
 Sun rises . . . . 6 35 
 — sets . . . . 5 25 
 Twilight ends . . 7 17 
 The pale purple-and-white crocus flow- 
 ers ; it resembles the common crocus in its 
 markings, but more inclines to blue, and 
 the flower is larger ; it equals in size the 
 common yellow crocus. 
 
 Ittatrt) 2. 
 
 Old Fashion of Tkavellino. 
 
 Mr. Pennant, in his "Journey from 
 Chester to London," says — "In March, 
 1739-40, I changed my Welsh school for 
 one nearer to the capital, and travelled 
 in the Chester stage — then no despicable 
 vehicle for country gentlemen. The first 
 day, with much labor, we got from 
 Chester to Whitchurch, twenty miles; 
 the second day, to the Welsh Harp; 
 the third, to Coventry; the fourth, to- 
 
269 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 2. 
 
 270 
 
 Northampton ; the fifth, to Dunstable ; 
 and, as a wondrous effort, on the last, to 
 London before the commencement of 
 night. The strain and labor of six good 
 horses, sometimes eight, drew us through 
 the sloughs of Mireden, and many other 
 places. We were constantly out two 
 hours before day, and as late at night ; 
 and in the depth of winter proportionably 
 later. Families who travelled in their 
 own carriages contracted with Benson 
 and Co., and were dragged up, in the 
 same number of days, by three sets of 
 able horses. The single gentlemen, then 
 a hardy race, equipped in jack-boots and 
 trowsers, up to their middle, rode post 
 through thick and thin, and, guarded 
 against the mire, defied the frequent 
 stumble and fall ; arose and pursued their 
 journey with alacrity: while in these 
 days their enervated posterity sleep away 
 their rapid journeys in easy chaises, fitted 
 for the conveyance of the soft inhabitants 
 of Sybaris." 
 
 In 1609 the communication between 
 the North of England and the Univer- 
 sities was maintained by carriers, who 
 performed a uniform, but tedious route, 
 with whole trains of pack-horses. Not 
 only the packages, but frequently the 
 young scholars were consigned to their 
 care. Through these carriers epistolary 
 correspondence was conducted, and, as 
 they always visited London, a letter could 
 scarcely be exchanged between Oxford and 
 Yorkshire in less time than a month. 
 
 About 1670 the journey frbm Oxford 
 lo London, which is under sixty miles, 
 occupied two days. An invention 
 called the " Flying Coach," achieved 
 it in thirteen successive hours : but, 
 from Michaelmas to Lady-day, it was 
 uniformly a two-days' performance. 
 
 In the winter of 1682 a journey from 
 Nottingham to London occupied four 
 whole days. 
 
 In 1673, a writer suggested, "that 
 the multitude of stage-coaches and cara- 
 vans travelling on the roads might all, or 
 most of them, be suppressed, especially 
 those within forty, fifty, or sixty miles off 
 London." He proposed that the number 
 of stage coaches should be limited to one 
 to every shire-town in England, to go 
 
 once a-week, backwards and forwards, 
 and to go through with the same horses 
 they set out with, and not travel more 
 than thirty miles a-day in summer, and 
 twenty-five in winter. His arguments in 
 support of these proposals were, that 
 coaches and caiavans were mischievous 
 to the public, destructive to trade, and 
 prejudicial to lands; because, firstly, they 
 destroyed the breed of good horses, and 
 made men careless of horsemanship ; 
 secondly, they hindered the breed of 
 watermen, who were the nursery of sea- 
 men; thirdly, they lessened the revenue. 
 
 The state of the roads in the South of 
 England, in 1703, may be inferred from 
 the following statement in the December 
 of that year, by an attendant on the king 
 of Spain, from Portsmouth to the Duke 
 of Somerset's, at Petworth, in Sussex ; for 
 they were fourteen hours on the journey. 
 " We set out at six o'clock in the morn- 
 ing to go to Petworth, and did not get out 
 of the coaches, save only when we were 
 overturned or stuck fast in the mire, till 
 we arrived at our journey's end. 'Twas 
 hard service for the prince to sit fourteen 
 hours in the coach that day, without eat- 
 ing any thing, and passing through the 
 worst ways that I ever saw in my life : 
 we were thrown but once indeed in going, 
 but both our coach which was leading, and 
 his highness's body coach, would have suf- 
 fered very often, if the nimble boors of Sus 
 sex had not frequently poised it, or support- 
 ed it with their shoulders, from Godalmin 
 almost to Petworth ; and, the nearer we 
 approached the duke's, the more inacces- 
 sible it seemed to be. The last nine 
 miles of the way cost six hours time to 
 conquer. In the lifetime of the proud 
 duke of Somerset, who died in 1748, the 
 roads in Sussex were so bad that, in order 
 to arrive at Guildford from Petworth ; 
 persons were obliged to make for the 
 nearest point of the great road from Ports- 
 mouth to London, and the journey was a 
 work of so much difficulty as to occupy 
 the whole day. The distance betvveen 
 Petworth and London is less than fifty 
 miles, and yet the duke had a house at 
 Guildford which was regularly occupied 
 as a resting place for the night by any 
 part of his family travelling to the me- 
 tropolis-* 
 
 f Archaeologia, 
 
271 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 2 
 
 aw 
 
 FAC-SIMILE OF THE OLDEST PRINT OF CHESS PLAY. 
 
 This representation of " Six ladies and 
 gentlemen in a garden, playing at chess," 
 is an attempt to reduce a rare and very 
 valuable copper-plite print, after an en- 
 graving of it in " A collection of 129 fac- 
 similes of scarce and curious prints," 
 edited by Mr. Ottley. That gentleman 
 inclines to believe that the original of this 
 print was executed by a celebrated artist, 
 who is called •' the Master of 1466," 
 because that date is affixed to some of 
 his plates, and his name is unknown. 
 He was the earliest engraver of the Ger- 
 'man school. 
 
 The print is remarkable as a specimen of 
 the arts of design and engraving when in 
 their infancy. It shows the costume, and 
 dandy-like deportment towards the ladies, 
 of the gentlemen of that age. It is further 
 remarkable as being the earliest engraved 
 representation, in existence, of persons 
 engaged in playing the game of chess. 
 
 An artist of the first eminence, recently 
 deceased, designed a beautiful set of pieces 
 for the chess-board, which were executed 
 in his lifetime, and played with. If a few 
 choice anecdotes, or notices concerning 
 
 cness, or chess-players, or moves in the 
 game, are immediately afforded, they will 
 be very acceptable as accompaniments to 
 specimens of the elegant forms of some 
 of these chess-men, which are now in the 
 hands of the engraver, with the hope, and 
 in anticipation, that this desire may be 
 gratified. 
 
 A Morality on Chess, 
 By Pope Innocent. 
 
 This world is nearly like a Chess Board, 
 of which the points are alternately white 
 and black, figuring the double state of 
 life and death, grace and sin. 
 
 The families of the Chess-board are 
 like mankind : they all come out of one 
 bag, and are placed in different stations. 
 They have different appellations ; one is 
 called king, another queen, the third rook, 
 the fourth knight, the fifth alphin, the 
 sixth pawn. 
 
 The condition of thfe game is, that one 
 piece takes another ; and, when the game 
 is finished, they are all deposited toge- 
 ther, like man, in the same place. There 
 
273 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 3. 
 
 274 
 
 is not any difference between the king and 
 the poor pawn; and it often happens 
 that, when thrown promiscuously into the 
 bag, the king lies at the bottom ; as some 
 of the great will find themselves, after their 
 transit from this world to the next. 
 
 The king goes into all the circumjacent 
 places, and takes every thing in a direct 
 line : which is a sign that the king must 
 never- omit doing justice to all. Hence, 
 in whatever manner a king acts, it is re- 
 puted just; and what pleases the sove- 
 reign has the force of law. 
 
 The queen goes and takes in an oblique 
 line ; because women, being of an avari- 
 cious nature, take whatever they can, and 
 often, being without merit or grace, are 
 guilty of rapine and injustice. 
 
 The rook is a judge, who perambulates 
 the whole land in a straight line, and 
 should not take any thing in an oblique 
 manner, by bribery and corruption, nor 
 spare any one. 
 
 But the knight, in taking, goes one 
 point directly, and then makes an oblique 
 circuit ; signifying that knights and lords 
 of the land may justly take the rents justly 
 due to them, and the fines justly forfeited 
 to them ; their third point being oblique, 
 refers to knights and lords when they 
 unjustly extort. 
 
 Th^ poor pawn goes directly forward, 
 in his simplicity ; but be takes obliquely. 
 Thus man, while he is poor and contented, 
 keeps within compass, and lives honestly ; 
 but in search of temporal honors he fawns, 
 cringes, bribes, forswears himself, and thus 
 goes obliquely, till he gains a superior 
 degree on the chess-board of the world. 
 When the pawn attains the utmost in his 
 power, he changes to fen; and, in like 
 manner, humble poverty becomes rich 
 and insolent. 
 
 The alphins represent various prelates; a 
 pope, archbishop, and subordinate bi- 
 shops. .Alphins move and take obliquely 
 three points ; perhaps the minds of certain 
 prelates are perverted by fawning, false- 
 hood, and bribery, to refrain from repre- 
 hending the guilty, and denouncing the 
 vices of the great, whose wickedness they 
 absolve. 
 
 In this chess-game the Evil one says, 
 " Check !" whenever he insults and strikes 
 one with his dart of siti ; and, if he that 
 is struck cannot immediately deliver him- 
 self, the arch enemy, resuming the move, 
 says to him, « Mate ! " carrying his soul 
 along with him to that place from which 
 there is no redemption. 
 
 March 2. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Day breaks ... 4 41 
 
 Sun rises . . » . 6 33 
 
 — sets .... 5 27 
 
 Twilight ends . . 7 19 
 
 Daphne mezercun often in full flower. 
 
 maufi 3. 
 
 Hawking. 
 
 Under the date of March 3, 1793, there 
 is a communication in the Gentleman's 
 Magazine, from which, and from a pre- 
 vious account, it appears that in the 
 preceding September several newspapers 
 contained a paragraph, stating that a hawk 
 had been found at the Cape of Good Hope, 
 and brought from thence by one of the 
 India ships, having on its neck a gold 
 collar, on which were engraven the follow- 
 ing words : — " This goodlie hawk doth 
 belong to his most excellent majestic, 
 James, king of England. A. D. 1610." 
 
 In a curious manuscript, containing 
 remarks and observations on the migration 
 of birds, and their flying to distant re- 
 gions, is the following passage, relating, 
 it is presumable, to this bird : — " And 
 here I call to mind a story of our Anthony 
 Weldon, in his Court and Character of 
 king James ; ' The king,' saith he, ' being 
 at Newmarket, delighted much to fly his 
 goshawk at herons; and the manner of 
 the conflict was this : the heron would 
 mount, and the goshawk would get much 
 above it ; then, when the hawk stooped at 
 the game, the heron would turn up his belly 
 to receive him with his claws and sharp bill ; 
 which the hawk perceiving, would dodge 
 and pass by, rather than endanger itself. 
 This pastime being over, both the hawk 
 and heron would mount again, to the ut- 
 most of their power, till the hawk would 
 be at another attempt; and, after divers 
 such assaul*.j, usually, by some lucky hit 
 or other, the hawk would bring her down ; 
 but, one day, a most excellent hawk 
 being at the game, in the king's presence, 
 mounted so high with his game, that both 
 hawk and heron got out of sight, and were 
 never seen more : inquiry was made, not 
 only all over England, but in all the 
 foreign princes' courts in Europe; the 
 hawk having the king's jesses, and marks 
 sufficient whereby jt might be known ; 
 butall their inquiries proved ineflectual.'" 
 
 In the printed edition of Sir Anthony 
 Weldon's Court of king James, the pas- 
 sage in question stands thus : — " The 
 
275 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 3. 
 
 276 
 
 French king sending over his falconer 
 to show that sport, his master falconer 
 lay long her?, but could not kill one kite, 
 ours being more magnanimous than the 
 French kite. Sir Thomas Monson desired 
 to have that flight in all exquisiteness, 
 and to that end was at £lOO charge in 
 gosfalcons for that flight; in all that 
 charge he never had but one cast would 
 perform it, and those, that had killed nine 
 kites, never missed one. The earl of 
 Pembroke, with all the lords, desired the 
 king but to walk out of Royston town's 
 end, to see that flight, which was one of 
 the most stateliest flights of the world, 
 for the high mountee ; the king went un- 
 willingly forth, the flight was showed, but 
 the kite went to such a mountee, as all 
 
 the field lost sigoc of kile and hawke and 
 all, and neither kite nor hawke were either 
 seen or heard of to this present, which 
 made all the court conjecture it a very ill 
 omen." 
 
 It is fairly presumable that the hawk 
 thus spoken of by sir Anthony Weldon 
 as lost, in 1610, may have been the hawk 
 found at the Cape in 1793, and conse- 
 quently tends to prove the amazin lon^ 
 gevity ascribed to birds of prey. 
 
 Thomas Heywood, in his play entitled 
 " A Woman Killed with Kindness," and 
 acted before 1604, has a passage on fal- 
 conry, highly descriptive of the diver 
 sion : 
 
 " Sir Charles. So; well cast off: aloft, aloft; well flown. 
 O, now she takes her at the sowse, and strikes her down 
 To the earth, like a swift thunder clap. — 
 Now she hath seized the fowl, and 'gins to plume her, 
 Rebeck her not; rather stand still and check her. 
 So : seize her gets, her jess'^s, and her bells ; 
 Away. 
 
 Sir Francis. My hawk kill'd too ! 
 
 Sir Charles. Aye, but 'twas at the querre. 
 Not at the mount, like mine. 
 
 Sir Fran. Judgment, ray masters. 
 
 Cranwell. Yours miss'd her at the ferre. 
 
 Wendoll. Aye, but our Merlin first had plum'd the fowl, 
 And twice renew'd her from the river too ; 
 Her bells. Sir Francis, had not both one weight, 
 Nor was one semi-tune above the other : 
 Methinks these Milan bells do sound too full, 
 And spoil the mounting of your hawk. — 
 
 Sir Fran. Mine likewise seized a fowl 
 
 Within her talons ; and you saw her paws 
 Full of the feathers : both her petty singles, 
 And her long singles griped her more than other ; 
 The terrials of her legs were stained with blood : 
 Not of the fowl only, she did discomfit 
 Some of her feathers ; but she brake away." 
 
 The technical terms in the above 
 citation may admit of some explanation, 
 from the following passage in Markham's 
 edition of the Book of St. Alban's, 1595, 
 where, speaking of the fowl being found 
 jn a river or pit, he adds, " if she (the 
 hawk) nyme, or take the further side of 
 the river, or pit from you, then she 
 slayeth the fowl at fere juttie : but if she 
 kill it on that side that you are on your- 
 self, as many times it chanceth, then you 
 shall say she killed the fowl at the jutty 
 ferry. If your hawk nyme the fowl aloft, 
 you shall say she took it at the mount. 
 If you see store of mallards separate 
 
 from the river and feeding in tne field, 
 if your kawk flee covertly under hedges, 
 or close by the ground, by which means 
 she nymeth one of them before they can 
 rise, you shall say, that fowl was killed 
 at the qu€rre." 
 
 March 3. Day breaks . . . 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 — sets .... 
 
 Twilight ends . . 
 
 Purple spring crocus flowers. 
 
 Early sulohur butterfly appears. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 4 39 
 
 6 31 
 
 5 2 
 
 7 21 
 
art 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. -MARCH 4, 5. 
 
 279 
 
 fttarcl) 4. 
 
 March 4, 1765. Died, Dr. William 
 Stukeley, an eminent antiquary, of 
 varied attainments. He was born at 
 Holbeach, in Lincolnshire, where, and at 
 Benet College, Cambridge, he received 
 every advantage of education. He prac- 
 tised with reputation as a physician, at 
 Boston, London, and Grantham ; but was 
 prevailed upon to take holy orders, and 
 became, successively, rector of Somerby, 
 All-Saints, Stamford, and St. George's 
 Hanover-square, London. He was one 
 of the founders of the society of antiqua- 
 ries, the Spalding society, and the Egyp- 
 tian society. He was a fellow of the 
 Royal society, secretary to the antiqua- 
 rian society, and senior fellow and censor 
 of the college of physicians. He became 
 a free-mason, under an impression that 
 the order retained some of the Eleusinian 
 mysteries, and was afterwards master of 
 a lodge. He wrote ably as a divine, 
 physician, historian, aiid antiquary. His 
 knowledge of British antiquities was 
 profound. He was a good botanist ; and 
 erudite in ancient coins, of which he had 
 a good collection. He drew well, and 
 understood mechanics. He invented a 
 successful method of repairing the sinking 
 pile of Westminster bridge, in which the 
 ablest artificers had failed. ' He cut a 
 machine in wood, on the plan of the 
 orrery, which showed the motions of the 
 heavenly bodies, the course of the tides, 
 &c., and arranged a plan of Stonehenge on 
 a common trencher. His life was spent in 
 gaining and communicating knowledge. 
 He traced the footsteps of the Romans, and 
 explored the temples of the ancient Bri- 
 tons. His labors in British antiquities 
 procured him the name of Arch-Druid. 
 Returning from his retirement at Kentish- 
 town to his house in Queen-square, on 
 February 27, 1765, he reposed on a.' 
 couch, as he was accustomed, while his 
 housekeeper read to him; she left the 
 room for a short time, and, on her return, 
 he said to her, with a smiling and serene 
 countenance, — " Sally, an accident has 
 happened since you have been absent." 
 " Pray what is it, sir ? " " No less than 
 a stroke of the palsy." " I hope not, 
 sir." Observing that she was in tears, he 
 said, " Nay, do not weep ; do not trouble 
 yourself, but get some help to carry me 
 up stairs, for I shall never come down 
 again, but on men's shoulders." Ha 
 lived a week longer, but he never spoke 
 
 again. His remains were interred at 
 Eastham, Essex, in a spot he had shown, 
 when on a visit to the vicar, his friend, 
 the Rev. Joseph Simms. A friend placed 
 the following inscription over the door of 
 Dr. Stukeley's villa at Kentish-town : 
 
 Me dulcis saturet quies ; 
 Obscuro positus locc 
 Leni perfruar otio 
 Chyndonax Druida. 
 
 O may Oiis rural solitude receive. 
 
 And contemplatiun all its pleasures give 
 
 The Druid priest. 
 
 . " Chyndonax Druida" is an allusion 
 to an urn of glass so inscribed, in France, 
 which Dr. Stukeley believed to contain 
 the ashes of an arch-druid of that name, 
 whose portrait forms the frontispiece to 
 Stonehenge, though the French antiqua- 
 ries, in general, considered it as a forgery. 
 Mr. Pegge, who seemed to inherit the 
 antiquarian lore and research of Dr. 
 Stukeley, says of him, in his work on the 
 coins of Cunobelin: — " The doctor, I am 
 sensible, has his admirers, but 1 confess 
 I am not one of that number, as not 
 being fond of wildness and enthusiasm 
 upon any subject." Respecting his hand 
 writing Mr. Gray, mentioning other per- 
 sons writing with him in the reading-room 
 at the museum, says, — " The third person 
 writes for the emperor of Germany, or 
 Dr. Pocock, for he speaks the worst 
 English I ever heard ; and, fourthly. Dr. 
 Stukeley, who writes for himself, the very 
 worst person he could write for."* 
 
 Ji. m. 
 
 March 4. Day breaks ... 4 37 
 
 Sun rises .... 6 29 
 
 — sets .... 5 31 
 
 Twilight ends . . 7 23 
 
 Grape hyacinth in flower if the season 
 
 is not backward. 
 
 Sweet violets are usually in flower. 
 
 Mav^ 5. 
 
 On the 5th of March, 1597, the son of 
 the constable duke de Montmorency was 
 baptized at the hotel de Montmorency. 
 Henry IV. was a sponsor, and the pope's 
 legate officiated. So sumptuous was the 
 banquet, that all the cooks in Paris were 
 employed eight days in making prepara- 
 
 * Noble. 
 
279 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 6. 
 
 280 
 
 tious. There were two sturgeons of an 
 hundred 6cus. The fish, for the most 
 part, were sea-monsters, brought expressly 
 from the coast. The fruit cost one hun- 
 dred and fifty ^cus ; and such pears were 
 sent to table as could not be matched for 
 an 6cu each.* 
 
 A poor man that hath little, and desires 
 no more, is, in truth, richer than the great- 
 est monarch that thinketh he hath not 
 what he should, or what he might; or 
 that grieves there is no more to have. — 
 Bp. Hall. 
 
 With every season fresh and new 
 
 That love is more inspiring : 
 Her eyes, her face, all bright with joy,— 
 
 Her coming, her retiring, — 
 Her faithful words,— her winning ways, — 
 That sweet look, kindling up the blaze 
 
 Of love, so gentle still, 
 o wound, but not to kill, — 
 So that when most I weep and sigh. 
 So much the higher springs my joy. 
 
 Raoul de Caucg, 1190. 
 
 Spring. 
 
 The first approach of the sweet spring 
 
 Returning here once more, — 
 The memory of the love that holds 
 
 In my fond heart such power, — 
 The thrush again his song essaying, — 
 The little rills o'er pebbles playing. 
 
 And sparkling as they fall, — 
 
 The memory recall 
 Jf her on whom my heart's desir 
 Is — shall be — fix'd till I expire. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 March 5. Day breads ... 4 34 
 
 Sun rises . . . . 6 27 
 
 — sets .... 5 3c 
 
 Twilight ends . . 7 26 
 
 Primroses are still common in gardens. 
 
 Spring. 
 
 This is usually noted by meteorologists 
 as the first day of spring. 
 
 Spring. 
 
 Sweet spring, thou cora'st with all thy goodly train, 
 
 Thy head with flames, thy mantle bright with flow'rs. 
 
 The zephyrs curl the green locks of the plain. 
 
 The clouds for joy in pearls weep down their show'rs 
 
 Sweet spring, thou com'st— but, ah ! my pleasant hours, 
 
 And happy days, with thee come not again ; 
 
 The sad memorials only of my pain 
 
 Do with thee come, which turn my sweets to sours. 
 
 Thou art the same which still thou wert before, 
 
 Delicious, lusty, amiable, fair ; 
 
 But she whose breath embalm'd thy wholesome air 
 
 Is gone ; nor gold nor gems can her restore. 
 
 Neglected virtue, seasons go and come. 
 
 When thine forgot lie closed in a tomb. 
 
 Drummond of Hawthornden. 
 
 When fruits, and herbs, and flowers are 
 decayed and perished, they are continually 
 succeeded by new productions; and this 
 governing power of the Deity is only his 
 creating power constantly repeated. So 
 it is with respect to the races of animated 
 beings. What an amazing structure ot 
 parts, fitted to strain the various particles 
 that are imbibed ; which can admit and 
 percolate molecules of such various figures 
 and sizes! Out of the same common 
 earth what variety of beings ! — a variety or 
 which no human capacity can venture the 
 
 * History of Paris, iii. 270. 
 
 calculation ; and each differing from the 
 rest in taste, color, smell, and every other 
 property ! How powerful must that art 
 be which makes the flesh of the various 
 species of animals differ in all sensible 
 qualities, and yet be formed by the sepa- 
 ration of parts of the same common food ! 
 In all this is the Creator every where pre- 
 sent, and every where active: it is he who 
 clothes the fields with green, and raises the 
 trees of the forest ; who brings up the low- 
 ing herds and bleating flocks ; who guides 
 the fish of the sea, wings the inhabitants 
 of the air, and directs the meanest insect 
 and reptile of the earth. He forms their 
 
281 THE YEAIl BOOK.— MARCH G. ■ 282 
 
 bodies incomparable in their kind, and spirits to dance of breathless rapture, and 
 
 furnishes them .with instincts still more bring tears of mysterious tenderness to 
 
 admirable. Here is eternally living force, the eyes, like the enthusiasm of patriotic 
 
 and omnipotent intelligence.* success, or the voice of one beloved sing- 
 
 ■ ing to you alone. Sterne says, that if he 
 
 Natural Sympathy. were in a desert he would love some 
 
 T i-» 1 .u 1 J 4. J i , I. cypress. So soon as this want or power 
 
 In solitude, or that deserted state where • 5 „j „ v _ i- ■ it 
 
 ' J J , , , . ; IS dead, man becomes a livme sepulchre 
 
 we are surrounded by human bemgs and „f himself, and vvhat yet survives^ is the 
 
 yet they sympathize not with us, we love ,„e,g ,,„^k of what once he was.* 
 the nowers, the grass, the waters, and the 
 
 sky. In the motion of the very leaves of 
 
 spring, in the blue air, there is found a h. m. 
 
 secret correspondence with our heart. March 6. Day breaks ... 4 32 
 There is eloquence in the tongueless wind, Sunrises. ... 6 25 
 
 and a melody in the flowing brooks and — sets . . . . 5 35 
 
 the whisiling of the reeds beside them, Twilight ends • . 7 28 
 
 which, by their inconceivable relation to Early daffodil, or Lent lily, blows in 
 
 something within the soul, awaken the the garden. 
 
 Binns OF Passage. 
 
 Birds, joyous birds of the wand'ring wing ! 
 
 Whence is it ye come with the flowers of Spring? 
 
 — " We come from the shores of the green old Nile, 
 
 From the land where the roses of Sharon smile. 
 
 From the palms that wave through the Indian sky, 
 
 From the myrrh-trees of glowing Araby. 
 
 " We have swept o'er cities, in song renown'd — 
 
 Silent they lie, with the deserts round ! 
 
 We have cross'd proud rivers, whose tide hath roU'd 
 
 All dark with the warrior-blood of old ; 
 
 And each worn wing hath regain 'd its home. 
 
 Under peasant's roof-tree, or monarch's dome. 
 
 And what have ye found in the monarch's dome. 
 
 Since last ye traversed the blue sea's foam ? 
 
 — " We have found a change, we have found a pall. 
 
 And a gloom o'ershadowing the banquet's hall. 
 
 And a mark on the floor, as of life-drops spilt — 
 
 — Nought looks the same, save the nest we built !" 
 
 Oh, joyous birds, it hath still been so ! 
 
 Through the halls of kings doth the tempest go ! 
 
 But the huts of the hamlet lie still and deep. 
 
 And the hills o'er their quiet a vigil keep. 
 
 Say, what have ye found in the peasant's cot. 
 
 Since last ye parted from that sweet spot ? 
 
 " A change we have found there, and many a change ! 
 
 Faces and footsteps and all things strange ! 
 
 Gone are the heads of the silvery hair, 
 
 And the young that were, have a brow of care. 
 
 And the place is hush'd where the children play'd — 
 
 — Nought looks the same, save the nest we made !" 
 
 Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth. 
 
 Birds that o'ersweep it in power and mirth ! 
 
 Yet, through the wastes of the trackless air, 
 
 Te have a guide, and shall we despair ? 
 
 Ye over desert and deep have pass'd — 
 
 — So shall we reach our bright home at last 1 F. H. 
 
 • Baxter. t Shelley. 
 
283 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 7. 
 
 284 
 
 Mnvdf 7. 
 
 On the 7th of March, 1 755, died Thomas 
 Wilson, the I'enerable bishop of Sodor 
 and Man, in the ninety-third year of his 
 age. He was born of humble parents, at 
 Burton, a village in the hundred of Wirrel, 
 Cheshire, where his ancestors had passed 
 their unambitious lives for several ages. 
 From Chester school he went to the uni- 
 versity of Dublin, which was then a custom 
 with Lancashire and Cheshire youths de- 
 signed for the church. His first prefer- 
 ment was a curacy under Dr. Slierlock, 
 his maternal uncle, then rector of Win- 
 wick ; whence he went into the family of 
 the earl of Derby, as chaplain, and tutor 
 to his lordship's sons. At that period he 
 refused the rich living of Baddesworth in 
 Yorkshire, because, in his then situation, 
 he could not perform the duties of it. 
 The bishopric of Sodor and Man, which 
 had been long vacant, was so reluctantly 
 received by him, that it might be said he 
 was forced into it. Baddesworth was 
 again offered to him in commendam, and 
 ae;ain refused. In his sequestered diocese 
 he was the father and the friend of his 
 flock. He repeatedly rejected richer 
 bishoprics, saying, " he would not part 
 with his wife because she was poor." 
 His worKs, in two volumes 4to., prove 
 that he deserved whatever could have been 
 offered to him. 
 
 Bishop Home, when Dean of Canter- 
 bury,gave the following character of Bishop 
 Wilson's Works, in a letter to his sou : " I 
 am charmed with the view the books af- 
 ford me of the good man your father, in 
 his diocese and in his closet. The Life, 
 the Sacra Privata, the Maxims, the Paro- 
 chialia, &c., exhibit altogether a complete 
 and lovely portrait of a Christian Bishop, 
 going through all his functions with con- 
 sumjnate prudence, fortitude, and piety — 
 the pastor and father of a happy island 
 for nearly threescore years. The Sermons 
 are the affectionate addresses of a parent to 
 his' children, descending to the minutest 
 particulars, and adapted to all their wants." 
 
 h. m. 
 
 March 7. Day breaks ... 4 30 
 Sun rises .... 6 23 
 — sets .... 5 27 
 Twilight ends . . 7 30 
 
 Daffodilly, or double Lent lily, begins 
 to blow, and in the course of the month 
 makes a fine show in the gardens : thin 
 pale contrasts well with the deep yellow 
 of the crocus. 
 
 Lays of the Minnesingers. 
 
 There was once a gentle time. 
 When the world was in Its prime. 
 When every day was holiday. 
 And every month was lovely May, 
 
 These bland verses usher, as a motto, 
 the " Lays of the Minnesingers, or Ger- 
 man Troubadours, of the twelfth and 
 thirteenth centuries, — with specimens of 
 the cotemporary Lyric Poetry of Provence, 
 and other parts of Europe." * From this 
 volume will be derived subsequent parti- 
 culars, and poetical illustrations of the 
 vernal season. 
 
 The Minne$ingers, which literally sig- 
 nifies Love-singers, flourished in Germany 
 contemporaneously with the eminent trou- 
 badours of Provence, Castille, Catalonia, 
 and Italy. They sung, or wrote, first in the 
 low German, comprehending the Anglo- 
 Saxon, the old Friesic, the more modern 
 nether-Saxon, and the Belgic, or Dutch 
 dialect of the northern tribes ; secondly, 
 the Francic, Alemanic, Burgundian, Sua- 
 bian, and kindred dialects of the high- 
 German, or south-western tribes. The 
 greater portion of the poetry of the 
 Minnesingers is in this latter, the high- 
 German, or Suabian tongue. 
 
 Under the Saxon emperors, the literature 
 of Germany made great progress : its 
 brightest age of poetry may be reckoned 
 from the commencement of the Suabian 
 dynasty, in the beginning of the twelfth 
 century, and it flourished most amidst the 
 storms of the empire. On the death of 
 Conrad III., the first emperor of that fa- 
 mily, his nephew, Frederick, duke of 
 Suabia, surnamed Red-beard, was elected 
 emperor, and bore the title of Frederick I. 
 Under his reign the band of the Minne- 
 singers flourished, and at their head, as 
 the earliest of date, Henry of Veldig, 
 who, in one of his poems, remarkably 
 laments the degeneracy of that early age. 
 He says, " When true love was professed, 
 then also was honor cultivated; now, 
 by night and by day, evil manners are 
 learnt. Alas ! how may he who witnesses 
 the present, and witnessed the past, la- 
 ment the decay of virtue ! " Frederick 
 I. joined the third papal crusade, accom- 
 panied his armies through the fairy regions 
 of the east, held his court in the poetic 
 lands of the south of Europe, admired 
 
 * 8vo. Longman and Co., 1825. 
 
285 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— MARCH 7. 
 
 286 
 
 the lays of the troubadours of Provence, 
 stimulated the muse of his native minne- 
 singers, and fostered the literature of 
 Germany. There is a little piece ascribed 
 to this emperor which is " curious as a 
 commentary on the manners of the age," 
 and testifies discrimination derived from 
 travel and observation — 
 
 Plas my cavallier Frances, 
 
 E la doima Catallana, 
 £ I' oorar del Gyno&, 
 
 E la rour de Kastellana, 
 Lo cantar Proveusalles, 
 
 £ la dansa Trevizaua^ 
 £ lo corps Aragon^, 
 
 £ la perla (1) Julliana, 
 Los mans e caia d' Angles, 
 
 £ lo donzel de Thuscana. 
 
 Translation. 
 
 I like a 'cavalier Frances* 
 
 And a Catalonian dame ; 
 The courtesy of the Genoese, 
 
 And Castilian dignity ; 
 The Provence songs my ears to please. 
 
 And the dance of the Trevisan j 
 The graceful form of the Arragoneze, 
 
 And the pearl (?) of the Julian ; 
 An English hand and face to see. 
 
 And a page of Tnscany. 
 
 Frederick I. died suddenly in 1190. 
 His memory is preserved by traditions of 
 his popularity, and by grateful attach- 
 ment to the ruins of his palace at Geln- 
 hausen. A legend places him within a 
 subterranean palace in the caverns of the 
 Hartz Forest, reposing in a trance upon a 
 marble throne,withhis beard flowing on the 
 ground, awakening at intervals to reward 
 any child of song who seeks his lonely 
 court. 
 
 His son and successor, the emperor, 
 Henry VI., was himself a minnesinger. 
 Frederick II. called to his court the most 
 celebrated poets, orators, and philosophers 
 of the age. He wrote in the Provenp al 
 tongue, and there remain valuable memo- 
 rials of his talents and zeal for the pro- 
 motion of knowledge, while engaged in 
 foreign wars and surrounded by domestic 
 treachery. Heavy misfortunes befel the 
 successors of his house. Conrad IV. 
 struggled in vain ; and Conrad the 
 younger, another minnesinger, succeeded 
 to the crown of Sicily and Naples only to 
 perish on the scaflbld, in 1268, by the 
 machinations of the Pope and Charles of 
 Anjou. 
 
 Upon the extinction ol the Suabian 
 line of emperors, the minnesingers and 
 literature of Germany declined. Rodolph 
 
 of Hapsburgh ascended the throne in 
 1273; and, about that period, Conrad of 
 Wurtzburgh, an eminent minnesinger, 
 lamented the failure of his art to attract, 
 in lines of which the following are a 
 translation : — 
 
 Unwilling stays the throng 
 
 To hear the minstrel's song ; 
 
 Yet cease I not to sing. 
 
 Though small the praise it bring ; 
 
 Even if on desert waste 
 
 My lonely lot were cast. 
 
 Unto my harp, the same. 
 
 My numbers would I frame ; 
 
 Though never ear were found 
 
 To hear the lonely sound. 
 
 Still should it echo round ; 
 
 As the lone nightingale 
 
 Her tuneful strain sings on 
 
 To her sweet self alone, 
 
 Whiling away the hour 
 
 Deep in her leafy bow'r. 
 
 Where night by night she loves 
 
 Her music to prolong. 
 
 And makes the bills and groves 
 
 Re-echo to her song. 
 
 With the fourteenth century commenced 
 a freebooting age, and an entire change 
 in the literature of Germany. Minstrels 
 could not travel amidst the turbulence of 
 wars and feuds. The " meisters," masters, 
 or professors of poetry, and their " song- 
 schools," prescribed pedantic rules, which 
 fettered the imagination ; poetry sunk 
 into silly versifying, and the minnesingers 
 became extinct. 
 
 In the fourteenth century, Rudiger von 
 Manesse, a senator of Zurich, and his 
 sons, formed a splendid MS. collection of 
 lyric poets, which is repeatedly noticed 
 during the sixteenth century, as seen at 
 different places by ' inquirers into the 
 antiquities of German song, and was at 
 last found in the king's library at Paris. 
 The songs of each poet are introduced 
 by an illumination, seeming to represent 
 an event in the poet's life, or to be illus- 
 trative of his character ; and accompanied 
 by heraldic decorations, executed with a 
 care and precision usual to such orna- 
 ments in the albums of Germany. The 
 elder Manesse appears to have correspond- 
 ed with the most eminent men of his 
 country, and held a kind of academy or 
 conversazione, where all poetry which 
 could be collected was examined, and 
 the best pieces were enrolled in his 
 " lieder-buoch." 
 
 The lyric poetry of the minnesingers 
 combines and improves upon all the 
 pleasing features of the Provenpal muse ; 
 
287 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 7. 
 
 288 
 
 and is more highly and distinctively cha^ 
 racteristic of siihd.ued and delicate feeling. 
 It breathes the sentiments of innocent and 
 tender, iiffection — admiration of his lady's 
 perfections, joy in her smiles, grief at her 
 frowns, and anxiety for her welfare — 
 expressed by the poet in a thousand ac- 
 cents of simplicity and truth. These 
 ancient " love-singers" seem to revel in 
 the charms of nature, in her most smiling 
 forms : the gay meadows, the budding 
 groves, the breezes and the flowers, songs 
 of birds, grateful odors, and delightful 
 colors, float and sparkle in their song, 
 and the bounding rhythm and musical 
 elegance of the verse often correspond 
 with the beauty and eflervescent passion 
 of the words. The foUovving verse, by 
 the minnesinger Von Buwenburg, exem- 
 plifies the spirit with which these topics 
 were often selected and dwelt upon. 
 
 Say, what is the sparkling light before us 
 
 O'er the grassy mead, all bright and fair. 
 As the spirit of mirth did wanton o'er us ? 
 
 Well, well, I see that summer is there ; 
 By the flow'rs upspringing, and birds sweet 
 singing. 
 
 And animals playing : — and, lo ! the hand 
 Of Nature her beautiful offspring bringing. 
 
 All ranged in their seasons at her command! 
 May heav'n Complete thee, thou fair creation. 
 For such pleasures as these are joy's true 
 foundation I 
 
 In common with the fashion of the 
 day, and in the manner of the trouba- 
 dours, the minnesingers blended religious, 
 with amatory ideas, without any seeming 
 of irreverent intention; and some of 
 their lyric pieces are devoted entirely to 
 religious topics, such as praises of the 
 Virgin, or of a favorite saint. 
 
 With the ascendancy of chivalric 
 feelings, there arose a spirit of devotion 
 for the sex, which, in France, was carried 
 extravagantly high. To women were as- 
 cribed all the attributes of sovereignty; 
 and courts of justice were created to 
 enforce obedience to a new code of Jaws, 
 and to dignify all sorts of caprice with 
 thex mimic consequence of judicial so- 
 lemnity. These follies never attained to 
 such a height among the Germans, who 
 were not, in the eleventh or twelfth cen- 
 tury, to be taught the respect and esteem 
 due to the female sex. Even in their 
 barbarian days Tacitus had extolled an 
 example which Rome might have copied. 
 Chivalry and civilization only mellowed 
 ancient sympathies, and aroused purer 
 and more social affections than those 
 
 which usually characterize contemporary 
 French society and literature. 
 
 There is a marked disllnctioffi between 
 the lyric poetry of the two countries. 
 The German is more chaste, tender, and 
 delicate. The lays of the troubadours, 
 whenever they emerge from cold and'fan. 
 ciful conceits, much oftener require prun- 
 ing for modern eyes. The German songs 
 are less metaphysical and spiritualized. 
 They are less classical in their allusions, 
 and may be ruder, but they breathe more 
 of feeling, more of love for tlie befautiful 
 in nature, and more of joy iff her perfec- 
 tions. Among the lyrics of the trouia- 
 dours there are very few if any instances 
 of entire songs pf joy, floating on in 
 buoyancy of spirit, and glowing with 
 general delight in natural objects — in the 
 bursting promise of spring, or the luxu- 
 riant profusion of sumjner — like some of 
 those of the minnesingers. 
 
 The metaphorical language of the min- 
 nesingers is often spirited. Thus, Henry 
 of Morunge sings— 
 
 Where now is gone my morning star ? 
 Where now my sun ? Its beams are fled. 
 Though at high noon it held afar 
 Its course above my humble head. 
 Yet gentle evening came, and then 
 It stoop'd from high to comfort me ; 
 And I forgot its late disdain. 
 In transport living joyfully. • < 
 
 And, again, the same author-^' • 
 Mine is the fortune of a simple child 
 That in the glass his image looks upon ; 
 And, by the shadow of himself beguil'd. 
 Breaks quick the brittle charm, and joy is 
 
 gone. 
 So gaz'd I — and I deem'd my joy would 
 
 last — 
 On the bright image of my lady fair : 
 But ah ! the dream of my delight is past. 
 And love and rapture yield to dark despair. 
 
 In the construction of their verses, the 
 Germans seem entitled to the merit of 
 great originality. Their versification is 
 almost universally diflerent, and must 
 have required tunes as various. The 
 Iambus is the only foot of the trouba- 
 dours ; the minnesingers have almost as 
 many as the classical writers. The sub- 
 ject, not the form, characterizes the German 
 song; and every poet gives vent to his 
 joys or his sorrows, in such strains as may 
 be most accordant to his feelings, unshack- 
 led by such laws as were imposed in the 
 decay of the art, when the " meisters'' or 
 " masters,"' began to make a trade of the 
 muse. 
 
280 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 7. 
 
 200 
 
 A mournfui one am I, above whose head 
 A day of perfect bliss hath never past j 
 Whatever joys my soul have ravished. 
 Soon was the radiance of those joys o'ercast, 
 
 And none can show me that substantial pleasure 
 Which will not pass away like bloom from flowers ; 
 Therefore, no more my heart such joys shall treasure. 
 Nor pine for fading sweets and fleeting hours. 
 
 voltElweide, the minnesinger. 
 
 One of the most celebrated minne- 
 singers, Her Walther von der Vogel- 
 •weide, or Walter of the Birdmeadow, lived 
 from 1190 to 1240. An outline of his 
 life and character will represent one of the 
 chivalric curiosities with which his sin- 
 gular age abounded. 
 
 Walter Vogelweidfc seems to have begun 
 his career under Frederic, son of Leopold 
 "VI., who went to the crusade in 1197, 
 
 Vol. I.— 10 
 
 and died in Palestine iu the following 
 year, to the great grief of the almost infant 
 minnesinger. 
 
 In 1198 began the dissensions as to the 
 succession of the Imperial crown ; and 
 Walter attached himself to Philip of 
 Suabia, in opposition to the papal faction, 
 which supported Otho. One of the longest 
 of his songs is a lamentation on the di- 
 visions of his country, which proceeds, in 
 
231 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 7. 
 
 292 
 
 a strain of great boldness and considerable 
 poetic merit, to descant on the causes of 
 the existing troubles, and particularly on 
 the part borne in them by Rome. The 
 piece opens with a circumstantial descrip- 
 tion of himself in the position in which 
 hevis drawn in the Mauesse MS., seated 
 upon a rock (or bank of flowers), reposing 
 one knee on the other, with the elbow 
 renting on the uppermost, and the hand 
 covering the chin and one cheek. The 
 engraving, in the preceding page, is from 
 an outline of that illumination, in the 
 "Lays of the Minnesingers;" the represen- 
 tation is curious, on account of the anti- 
 quity of the original, and because it 
 assigns to Vogelweide an emblematical ar- 
 moi-ial bearing of a singing bird upon a 
 shield. The bearing of arras on a shield 
 originated during the crusades.* 
 
 His next historical piece is a song of 
 triumph on the coronation of Philip, in 
 lli38, at Mentz, where he appears to have 
 been; present. He gives judicious advice 
 to the new emperor for consolidating his 
 government by a liberal policy; and for- 
 tifies his counsel by the examples of 
 Saladin, and Richard Co^ur de Lion. 
 Many of his subsequent songs allude to the 
 evils which intestine war and the intrigues 
 of the papal court had brought upon Ger- 
 many. Soon afterwards he commemo- 
 rated the marriage, celebrated at Magde- 
 burg, in 1207, between Philip and a 
 Grecian princess : — 
 
 , A Cesar's brother and a Cesar's child. 
 The bride he describes as — 
 
 A thomless rose, a gall-less dove. 
 
 Walter's life was that of a wanderer. 
 With the geige and the harp he pursued 
 his way on horseback. " From the Elbe 
 So the Rhine, and thence to Hungary, 
 had he," as he says, " surveyed ; — froni 
 the Seine to the Mur, from the Po to the 
 Drave, had he learned the customs of 
 mankind : " yet he ends with preferring 
 the excellence of his native land — the 
 good-breeding of the men, and the angel- 
 forms of the women. 
 
 Walter joined the court of Herman, 
 landgrave of Thuringia, the great foster- 
 ing-place of the Minnesinging art, where, 
 in 1207, was the famous contention of 
 the minnesingers, or poetic battle of 
 Wartburg, at which he assisted as a prin- 
 
 Fosbroke. 
 
 cipal character, and rejoiced in one of his 
 songs at having entered the service of the 
 landgrave, " the flower that shines through 
 the snow." Several of his pieces, at this 
 period of his life, refer to his companions 
 at the court, to its customs, and even 
 jokes. Others are devoted to the inculea- 
 tioii of moral and knightly virtue, and are 
 often of a highly liberal and philosophic, 
 and not nnfrequently of a religious and 
 devotional, turn. 
 
 During the struggle between Otho and 
 Frederic, for the Imperial crown, Walter 
 drew a poetic comparison between their 
 merits and pretensions, and sided with 
 Frederic. At the court of Vienna, under 
 Leopold VIL, he addressed to him and 
 other princes a very plaintive appeal : — 
 
 To me is barr'd the door of joy and ease ; 
 There stand 1 as an orphan, lone, forlorn. 
 And nothing boots me that I frequent -knock. 
 Strange that on every band the shower should 
 
 fall. 
 And not one cheering drop should reach to me ! 
 On all around the gen'rous Austrian's gifts. 
 Gladdening the land, like genial rain descend : 
 A fair and gay adorned mead is he. 
 Whereon are gather'd oft the sweetest flowers : 
 Would that his rich and ever gen'rous band 
 Might stoop to pluck one little leaf for me, 
 So might I fitly praise a scene so fair ! 
 
 Walter sought protection in Carinthia, 
 at the court of the duke Bernard, a 
 patron of song, with whom he had a mis- 
 understanding ; and he soon returned to 
 the court of Leopold, whose death was 
 followed by fierce intestine distiirbances. 
 These calamities wrung from his muse a 
 song of sadness, which boldly personifies 
 the court of Vienna, and makes it address 
 to himself a bitter lamentation over the 
 wreck of its greatness. The times were 
 rapidly growing worse for men of his 
 mood and habits ; and he sighed for 
 a resting-place from his wanderings. In 
 one of the most interesting of his poems, 
 addressed to the emperor Frederic II., he 
 says — 
 
 Fain, could it be, would I a home obtain. 
 And warm me by a hearth-side of my own. 
 Then, then, I'd sing about the sweet birds 
 
 strain. 
 And fields and flowers, as I have whilome 
 
 done ; 
 And paint in song the lily and the rose 
 That dwell upon her cheek who smiles on me. 
 But lone I stray — no home its comfort shows : 
 Ah, luckless man ! still doomed a guest to be ! 
 
 His next song announced the fulfilment 
 of his wishes, in a burst of gratitude to 
 
293 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— MARCH 7. 
 
 the noble king, tne generous king," for 
 his bounty. He had promised to turn 
 his thoughts, when placed in ease and re- 
 pose, to fields, and flowers, and ladies' 
 charms ; and he produced many of these 
 lighter pieoes, although he was not so 
 much distinguished for gaiety as others 
 of the Minnesingers. 
 
 His touching accents m adversity were 
 yet accompanied by expressions of confi- 
 dence in his poetic powers : — 
 
 Chill penury, and winter's power. 
 Upon my soul so hard have prest 
 That I would fain have seen no more 
 The red flowers that the meadows dvest : 
 
 Yet, truth ! 'twere hard, if I were gone. 
 Upon the merry-making throng, 
 That loud with joy was wont to sing. 
 And o'er the green to dance and spring ! 
 
 In the dissensions between Frederic II. 
 and the pope, Walter fearlessly exposed 
 the crafly policy of the see of Rome, and 
 the mischiefs that resulted from investing 
 the church with political power, which 
 produced an anomalous herd, as he ob- 
 serves, of "preaching knights and fighting 
 priests." Still he was a warm exhorter to 
 what he considered the Christian duty of 
 engaging in the holy wars. He opposed 
 the pretensions of the pope, on prin- 
 ciples of resistance to papal usurpation 
 hefiting the land which was to be the 
 cradle of the Reformation. Many events of 
 the earliest poets of southern France were 
 also more or less associated with heretical 
 notions and practices ; and there is ah old 
 tradition, that the twelve real or jmaginary 
 " masters," or founders of song, in Ger- 
 many, were accused of heresy before the 
 emperor, and compelled to defend them- 
 selves in an open assembly in the pre- 
 sence of the pope's legate. One of 
 Walter's songs seems written from the 
 ranks of the crusading army, while on his 
 passage, full of zeal and hope; and an- 
 other is full of joy and exultation at find- 
 ing himself among scenes rendered sacred 
 by scriptural recollections and religious 
 associations. During thirty eventful years 
 his muse was devoted to the service of his 
 father-land, and, to the admiration of the 
 beauties of nature, and to the praise of 
 female virtue^ At an after period he says, 
 "Forty years and more have T sung of 
 love." He attained to an advanced age, 
 little blest by the gifts of fortune, but, 
 with an increasing love for his country, 
 jealously inculcating the precepts of reli- 
 
 294 
 
 gion in lofty strains of devotional feeling. 
 In one of his last efforts, a dialogue with 
 " the world," he takes his leave of its cares 
 and vanities : — 
 
 Too well thy weakness have I proved • 
 Now would I leave thee ; — it is time^ 
 Good night ! to thee, oh world, good night ! 
 I haste me to my home 
 
 It does riot appear where Walter spent 
 the latter period of his life, siibsequently 
 to his expedition to the Holy Land. At all 
 events it was after a long absence, and in 
 old age, that he returned to his native 
 land, and expressed his feelings on revisit- 
 ing the scenes of youth, in a plaintive song, 
 which commences thus : — 
 
 Ah ! where are hours departed fled ? 
 
 Is life a dream, or true indeed ? 
 Did all my heart hath fashioned 
 
 From fancy's visitinrs proceed ? 
 Yes ! I have slept ; and now unknown 
 
 To me the thing best known before : 
 The land, the people, once mine own, 
 
 Where are they ? — they are here no more : 
 My boyhood's friends, all aged, worn, 
 
 Despoil'd the woods, the fields, of home. 
 Only the stream flows on forlorn 
 
 (Alas I that e'er such change should come 1) 
 And he who knew me once so well 
 
 Salutes me now as one estranged ; 
 The very earth to me can tell 
 
 Of nought but things perverted, changed : 
 And when I muse on other days. 
 
 That passed me as the dashing oars 
 The surface of the ocean raise. 
 
 Ceaseless my heart its fate deplores. 
 
 An ancient MS. records that Walter's 
 mortal remains were deposited beneath a 
 tree in the precincts of the minster at 
 Wurtzburg; and his name and talents 
 commemorated by the following epi- 
 taph : — 
 
 Pascua qui volucrum vivns, Walthere, fuisti. 
 Qui fins eloquii, qui Falladis os, obiisti ! 
 Ergo quod aureolam probitas tua possit ha- 
 bere. 
 Qui legit, hie dicat — " Dens istius miserere ! " 
 
 It is stated, on the same authority, that 
 Vogelweide, by his last will, dictated 
 a bequest, beautifully accordant with the 
 grateful and pure feelings of the minne- 
 singer " of the Birdmeadow" — he di- 
 rected the birds to be statedly fed upon 
 his tomb.* 
 
 lays of the Minnesingers. 
 12 
 
295 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 8. 
 
 296 
 
 [Original,] 
 
 REMEMBER 
 
 Remember, remember, the vow so early made, 
 By the marble fomitain's side, 'neath the spreading palm trees shade; 
 When the distant sun was sinking, and thou swore by him on high, 
 On the bosom that then pillow'd thee, to live — to love — to die. 
 
 Remember, remember, the hour so sad to me, 
 
 When thou fled'st thy home and love in a strange bark o'er the sea ; 
 
 And I stood upon the shore, and the curse rose in my breast. 
 
 But prophetic tears came on my cheek, my heart yearn'd, and I blest. 
 
 Remember, remember, when, after years of pain 
 And madness of heart and head, I saw thee once again ; 
 When menials spurn'd the maniac from the portal where he lay. 
 In the last fond hope of dying in thy presence, or thy way. 
 Now thou 'rt low, and art left to the cold sneer and the gaze 
 Of the world that bent before thee in thy former stately days; 
 And the sycophants thou smil'dst upon forsake thee in thy need. 
 As the stricken deer is left by the fleeing herd to bleed. 
 But one star yet to thee is left — nay, fear from me no word, 
 Of all we are, or might have been, my claims shall be unheard : 
 I will but ask to look on thee, and think upon the days 
 When I joy'd me in the sunny light of thy young beauty's rays. 
 Fear not that I should speak of love— all word of that is past, 
 Although its dart will rankle in my sear'd breast to the last ; 
 I will but ask to tend thee with an elder brother's care, 
 And to kneel to thee in death, with a blessing and a prayer. 
 
 S. H. S 
 
 Mnvttt 8. 
 
 The Chancbllob's Mace. 
 
 On the 8th of March, 1577, there was 
 a trial at the old Bailey, arising out of the 
 following circumstances : — 
 
 A little girl, the daughter of a woman 
 who let lodgings in Knight Rider Street, 
 went up to a room of one of the lodgers to 
 make the bed, and was agreeably surprised 
 with finding on the floor some silver 
 spangles and odd ends of silver. Her 
 curiosity was awakened ; she pryed further, 
 and looknig through the keyhole of the 
 door to a locked closet perceived what 
 she imagined to be the royal crown. She 
 hastened down stairs, and cried out," Oh 
 mother ! mother ! yonder's the king's crown 
 in our closet ! Pray mother come along 
 with me and see it." The admiring mother 
 followed her daughter, opened the lock of 
 her lodgers' closet with a knife, and dis- 
 covered the lord chancellor's mace, which 
 had been stolen from his house. She 
 had been informed of the loss, and imme- 
 diately gave information of the discovery. 
 Officers were despatched and secured 
 the persons who rented the room, consist- 
 
 ing of three raon and women ; they were 
 examined and committed for trial. 
 
 These circumstances are stated in a rare 
 little quarto tract of four leaves, entitled 
 " A perfect narrative of the Apprehension, 
 Trial, and Confession on the day before 
 mentioned of the five several persons that 
 were confederates in stealing the mace 
 and two privy purses from the lord high 
 chancellor of England, at the sessions held 
 at Justice Hall in the Old Baily." On the 
 arraignment of the prisoners, and before 
 the evidence was taken, " the principal 
 of those malefactors, a person very 
 well known in court, having been ar- 
 raigned at the same bar five or six several 
 times," very confidently said to the bench, 
 " My lord, I own the fact : it was I, and 
 this man," pointing to a fellow prisoner 
 at the bar, " that robbed my lord chancel- 
 lor, and the other three are clear of the 
 fact; though I cannot say but that they 
 were confederates with us in the conceal- 
 ment of the prize after it was taken. This 
 I declare to the honorable bench, that I 
 may be clear of the bt^od of these othe* 
 three persons." The court was surprised 
 by this premature avowal, and quite as 
 much when, one of the witnesseu deposing 
 
297 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 9. 
 
 298 
 
 upon examination to the manner of ap- 
 prehending the prisoners, the same culprit 
 said, " Prithee, fellow, do not make such a 
 long narrative of my being taken ; thou 
 seest I am here; and I own that I and this 
 man are guilty of the fact." The prisoner 
 whom he inculpated said, " My lord, this 
 man, meeting me in St. Paul's Church 
 Yard, asked me to go and drink, with 
 whom I went, and, after we were seated, 
 he told me that he knew of a booty would 
 make me smile, telling me of the mace 
 and purses ; and further saying that if I 
 would be his assistant he would give me 
 my share of the prize." This account ac- 
 casioned the first prisoner to exclaim, 
 "Yes, my lord; I look like a fellow that 
 would commit a robbery and give him half 
 the prize !" Upon which bravado a great 
 shout was set up in the court, and, after 
 silence was obtained, the evidence pro- 
 ceeded and all the prisoners were con- 
 victed. 
 
 It was the Lord Chancellor Nottingham 
 who thus lost and recovered his mace of 
 office and purses. A like mishap befel 
 Lord Thurlow. When he was chancellor, 
 and lived in Great Ormond Street, his 
 house was broken open and the great seal 
 stolen, which was a greater loss. The 
 thieves were discovered, but the seal, 
 being of silver, they had disposed of it 
 in the melting pot, and patents and im- 
 portant public documents which required 
 the great seal were delayed until a new 
 one was made. 
 
 The Mace. 
 
 This was a weapon used in warfare, 
 and differed from a club only in being 
 surrounded with little horns or spikes. 
 Both mace and sceptre, which was also 
 a warlike instrument, became symbols of 
 authority and power. 
 
 The origin of the corporation mace is 
 thus given by Dr. Clarke : — The sceptre of 
 Agamemnon was preserved by the Chae- 
 roneans, and seems to have been used 
 among them after the manner of a mace 
 in corporate towns ; for Pausanias relates 
 that it was not kept in any temple appro- 
 priated for its reception, but that it was 
 annually brought forth with proper cere- 
 monies, and honored by daily sacrifices ; 
 and a sort of mayor's feast seems to have 
 been provided uppn the occasion — a table 
 covered with all sorts of vegetables was 
 then set forth.* 
 
 * Fosbroke's Encyclopaedia of Antiquities. 
 
 March 8. 
 
 Day breaks 
 Sun rises . 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 Peach in bloom. By this 
 apricot is fully out. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 4 28 
 
 6 21 
 
 5 39 
 
 7 32 
 time the 
 
 ittatrrt) 9. 
 
 Gkeat Ships. 
 
 On the 9th of March, 1655, Mr. 
 Evelyn enters in his diary, " I went to 
 see the great ship newly built by the 
 usurper Oliver [Cromwell], carrying 
 ninety-six brass guns and 1000 tons 
 burthen. In the prow was Oliver on 
 horseback, trampling six nations under 
 foot, a Scot, Irishman, Dutchman, Spa- 
 niard, and English, as was easily made 
 out by their several habits. A Fame held 
 a laurel over his insulting head ; the word 
 God with us." 
 
 The first mention of ships of great 
 burthen in England is derivable from the 
 inscription on Canning's tomb in Rad- 
 clifie church, Bristol, which states that he 
 had " forfeited the king's peace," or, in 
 plain words, committed piracies on the high 
 seas, for which he was condemned to pay 
 3000 marks; in lieu of which sum the 
 king took of him 2470 tons of shipping, 
 amongst which there was one ship of 900 
 tons burthen, another of 500, one of 400, 
 and the rest smaller. These ships bed 
 English names, yet it is doubtful wl ether 
 at that time ships of so large a size were 
 built in England ; it seems more probable 
 that Canning had purchased or taken 
 these ships from the Hanseatics, or else 
 from the Venetians, Genoese, Luccese, 
 Ragusians, or Pisans ; all of whom then 
 had shir)s of even larger tonnage.* 
 
 When I see a gallant ship well-rigged, 
 trimmed, tackled, man'd, munitioned, 
 with her top and top-gallant, and her 
 spread sayles proudly swelling with a full 
 gale in fair weather^ putting out of the 
 haven into the smooth maine, and drawing 
 the spectators' eyes, vnth a well-wishing 
 admiration, and shortly heare of the same 
 ship splitted against some dangerous rock, 
 or wracked by some disastrous tempest, 
 
 * Anderson. 
 
i99 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 10. 
 
 300 
 
 or sunk by some leake sprung in her by 
 some accident, me seemeth I see the case 
 of some court-favourite, who, to-day, like 
 Sejanus, dazzleth all men's eyes with the 
 splendour of his glory, and with the proud 
 and potent beake of his powerful pros- 
 perity, cutteth the waves and ploweth 
 through the prease of the vulgar, and 
 soorneth to feare some remora at his keele 
 below, or any crosse winds from above, 
 and yet to-morrow, on some storms of 
 unexpected disfavour, springs a leake in 
 his honour, and sinkes on the Syrties of 
 disgrace, or, daished against the rocks of 
 displeasure, is splitted and wracked in 
 the Charybdis of infamy ; and so con- 
 cludes his voyage in misery and misfor- 
 tune. — A. Warwick. 
 
 Enough, 1 reckon wealtli j 
 
 That mcau^ the surest lot. 
 That lies too high for base contempt. 
 
 Too low for envy's shot. 
 
 My wishes are but few 
 
 All easy to fulfil ; 
 I make the limits of my power 
 
 The bounds unto my will, 
 
 I fear no care for gold ; 
 
 Well-doing is my wealth ; 
 My mind to me an empire is. 
 
 While grace affordcth health. 
 
 I clip high-climbing thoughts, 
 The wings of swelling pride ; 
 
 Their ifall is worst that from the heigh 
 Of greatest honour slide. 
 
 Since sails of largest size 
 
 The storm doth soonest tear j 
 I bear so low and small a sail 
 
 As freeth me from fear. 
 I wrestle not with rage. 
 
 While fury's flame doth bum j 
 It is in vain to stop the stream 
 
 Until the tide doth turn. 
 But when the flame is out. 
 
 And ebbing wrath doth end, 
 I turn a late enraged foe 
 
 Into a quiet friend. 
 
 And, taught with often proof, 
 
 A temper'd calm I find 
 To be most solace to itself. 
 
 Best cure for angry mind. 
 
 Spare diet is my fare. 
 
 My clothes more fit than fine : 
 I know T feed and clothe a foe. 
 
 That pamper'd would repine. 
 
 I envy not their hap 
 
 Whom favour doth advance ; 
 I take no pleasure in their pain 
 
 That have less happy chance. 
 
 To rise by others' fall 
 
 I deem a losing gain ; 
 All states with others* ruin built. 
 
 To ruin run amain. 
 
 No change of fortune's balm 
 Can cast my comforts down ; 
 
 When fortune smiles; I smile to think 
 How quickly she will frown. 
 
 4nd when, in froward mood. 
 She prov'd an angry foe ; 
 mall gain I found to let her come, — 
 Less loss to let her go. 
 
 Robert Southwell, 1595, 
 
 h, m, 
 March 9. Day breaks ... 4 26 
 Sun rises .... 6 19 
 — sets .... 5 41 
 Twilight ends . . 7 34 
 Great scented jonquil flowers. It blows 
 usually with the early daffodil, and before 
 other species nearly a fortnight. Several 
 permanent varieties of the jonquil bear 
 specific names 
 
 iWawJj 10. 
 
 March 10, 1643, Mr. Evelyn, being at 
 Hartingfordberry, saw, what exceedingly 
 amazed him, " a shining cloud in the air, 
 in shape resembling a sword, the point 
 reaching to the north ; it was as bright as 
 the moon, the rest of the sky being very 
 serene. It began about eleven at night, 
 and vanished not till about one, being 
 seen by all the south of England." This 
 was clearly an appearance of the auroia- 
 borealis. 
 
 Proverbs on the Weathir. 
 
 If red the sun begins his race, 
 Sxpect that irain will fall apace. , 
 
 The evening red, the nlorning gray. 
 Are certain signs of a fair day. 
 
 If woolly fieeces spread the heavenly way. 
 No rain, be sure, disturbs the summer's day. 
 
 In the waning of the moon, 
 A cloudy morn — ^fair afternoon. 
 
 When clouds appear like rocks and towers. 
 The earth's refrcsh'd by frequent showers. 
 
301 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAllCII 11, 12. 
 
 302 
 
 li. m. 
 
 March 10. Day breaks . . 4 24 
 
 Sun rises . . . 6 17 
 
 — sets . . . . 5 43 
 
 Twilight ends . . 7 36 
 
 Wallflowers out here and there on old 
 
 last year's plants. 
 
 Frogs croak in ditches and waters where 
 they assemble and breed. 
 
 known by the name of "Penny Loaf 
 Day :" Hercules Clay and his lady are 
 interred in the church, and in the south 
 aisle there is a mural monument to their 
 memory; and an inscription referring to 
 this event. 
 
 H.H. N.N. 
 
 Mavs^ 11. 
 
 Penny-loaf Day at Newark. 
 £For the Year Book.] 
 
 On the 11th of March, 1643, there 
 lived at Newark one Hercules Clay; 
 his dwelling was on the west-side of 
 the market-place, at the corner of Stod- 
 man-street. The modern house, built 
 on the site of Clay's house, now con- 
 tains the news-room. This Hercules 
 Clay was a tradesman of consider- 
 able eminence, and an alderman of the 
 borough of Newark. During the siege, 
 in the night of the 11th of March 1643, 
 he dreamed three times that his house was 
 on flames ; on the third warning he arose 
 much terrified, alarmed the whole of his 
 family, and caused them to quit the pre- 
 mises ; though at that time all appeared 
 \o be in perfect safety ; soon afterwards, a 
 bombfromabattery of the parliamentarian 
 army on Beacon Hill, an eminence near 
 the town, fell upon the roof of the house, 
 and penetrated all the floors, but happily 
 did little other execution. The bomb 
 was intended to destroy the house of the 
 governor of the town, which was in 
 Stodman -street, exactly opposite Clay's 
 house. In commemoration of this extra- 
 ordinary deliverance, Mr. Clay, by his 
 will, gave £200 to the corporation in 
 trust to pay the interest of £100 to the 
 vicar of Newark, for a sermon to be 
 preached every 11th of March (the day 
 on which this singular event happened), 
 when the preacher constantly introduces 
 this subject, and reminds the congrega- 
 tion that the dreams recorded of the 
 ancients are not forgotten. The interest 
 of the other £100 he directed to be given 
 in bread to the poor : these customs are 
 continued to this day. Penny loaves are 
 given to every one who applies ; formerly 
 tliey were distributed at the church, but 
 now at the Town-hall. The applicants 
 are admitted at one door, one by one, and 
 remain locked up until the whole is dis- 
 tributed. This day is more generally 
 
 h. m. 
 
 March 11. Daybreaks . .4 21 
 
 Sun rises ... 6 15 
 
 — sets .... 5 45 
 
 Twilight ends . . 7 30 
 
 Lungwort, or cowslip of Jerusalein, 
 
 flowers. 
 
 Mav^ 12. 
 
 March 12, 1703, died Aubrey de Vere, 
 the twentieth and last earl of Oxford of 
 the de Veres. The changes of the event- 
 ful times in which he lived did not seem 
 to affect him ; he was so passive under 
 Oliver the protector that he was not even 
 fined ; and, when William came over, he 
 went over to him from James IL He had 
 been easy with the gay and frolicsome 
 Charles IL, grave with William III., and 
 was graceful in old age at the court of 
 Queen Anne. After the death of Charles 
 I., to whom he was lord of the bed- 
 chamber, he was lieutenant-general uf the 
 forces, colonel and captain of the horse- 
 guards, justice in Eyre, lord lieutenant 
 and custos rotulorum of the county of 
 Essex. He had been a privy counseller 
 to him and each subsequent sovereign, 
 and was hereditary lord chamberlain, se- 
 nior knight of the garter, and premier 
 earl of England. He married Anne 
 daughter of Paul viscount Bayning, and 
 Diana, daughter of George Kirk, esq. 
 He may be said to have committed poly- 
 gamy by the following act : a lady, whose 
 name is not known, was celebrated io- 
 the performance of the part of Roxanji 
 on the stage; influenced by violent love, 
 and unable to succeed in his purpose by 
 other means, he prevailed on her to con- 
 sent to a private marriage. It was after- 
 wards discovered to have been celebrated 
 by the earl's trumpeter in the character 
 of a priest, and witnessed by his kettle 
 drummer. His father, the valiant Robert 
 de Vere, earl of Oxford, had nobly mar- 
 ried Beatrix van Hemims, a boor's daugliler 
 of Friezeland.* 
 
 • Noblg. 
 
80'J 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 13. 
 
 304 
 
 "HISS!" "HUSH!"— AWFUL SOUNDS. 
 
 Peter Priestly, Parish Clerk of 
 Wakefield. 
 
 ■ [For the Year Book.] 
 
 About the year 1790, a sturdy veteran, 
 one Peter Priestley, was clerk, sexton, 
 and gravestone cutter, at the beautiful 
 parish church of Wakefield in Yorkshire. 
 He was an old, and very respectable in- 
 habitant of that town, commendably 
 proud of his various offices, and not at 
 all addicted to superstitious fears ; if he 
 had ever been so, his long connexion 
 with the repositories of the departed had 
 considerably allayed his apprehensions. 
 
 It was on a Saturday evening, at this 
 cheerless and gloomy season, that Peter 
 sallied forth from his dwelling to finish 
 the epitaph on a stone which was to be 
 in readiness for removal before Sunday. 
 Arrived at the church', within which for 
 shelter he had been working, Peter set 
 down his lantern, and lighting his other 
 candle, ■which stood in a " potato candle- 
 stick," he resumed his task. The church 
 
 clock had some time struck eleven, ana 
 some letters were still unexecuted, when 
 lo, a singular noise arrested the arm of 
 Peter, and he looked around him in silent 
 astonishment. The sound perhaps can- 
 not be better expressed than by the word 
 "hiss," or "hush." 
 
 Recovering from his surprise, Petei: 
 concluded that he had been deceived ; 
 especially as his sense of hearing was not 
 remarkably perfect, and he therefore re- 
 sumed his mallet and chisel very com- 
 posedly ; but, in a few minutes, his ear 
 was again greeted with the fearful sound 
 of "hiss!" 
 
 Peter nowrose straight up,and lighting his 
 lantern, he searched in vain for the cause 
 whence this uncommon sound proceeded, 
 and was about to quit the church when 
 the recollection of his promises and im- 
 perious necessity withheld him, and he re- 
 sumed his courage. The hammer of the 
 clock now struck upon the great bell, and 
 it sounded — twelve. 
 
 Peter, having now little tnore to do than 
 
305 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK—MARCH 13. 
 
 examine and touch up his new letters, was 
 surveying them with downcast head, and 
 more than ordinary minuteness, when 
 louder than ever came upon his ear the 
 dreadful note — " hiss !" 
 
 And now in truth he stood appalled. 
 Fear had succeeded doubt, and terror 
 fear. He had profaned the morning of 
 tlie Sabbath, and he was commanded to 
 desist — or peradventure the sentence of 
 death had been passed upon him, and ho 
 was now himself to be laid among — 
 
 •' Whole rows of kindred and acqnaintacce 
 By far his iuniors.*' 
 
 With tottering gait, however, Peter now 
 went home, and to bed; but sleep had 
 forsaken him. His wife in vain interro- 
 gated him as to the nature of his indis- 
 position. Every> comfort that the good 
 housewife could during the night think 
 of was administered to no purpose. In 
 the morning the good woman, happening 
 to cast her eyes upon the great chair where 
 Peter's wig was suspended, exclaimed 
 with vehemence — " Oh Peter ! what hast 
 thou been doing to burn all t'hair off one 
 side of thy wig?" "Ah! God bless thee," 
 vociferated Peter, jumping out of bed, 
 "thou hast cured me with that word." 
 The mysterious "hiss," and "hush," were 
 sounds from the frizzling of Peter's wig 
 by the flame of his candle, which, to his 
 imperfect sense of hearing, imported 
 things " horrible an' awfu'." The dis- 
 covery, and the tale, afforded Peter and 
 the good people of merry Wakefield 
 many a joke. 
 
 I have heard the story related by so 
 many old, respectable, and intelligent na- 
 tives of the town who knew Peter well, 
 that not a doubt can exist as to the fact. 
 At all events I have no hesitation in sub- 
 scribing my name to this paper, which 
 may be worthy of a perusal on three 
 grounds. First, as having never (that I 
 l;nowof)been published before; secondly, 
 as being no fictitious tale ; and, thirdly, 
 as it may tend to dispel those idle fears 
 and notions of which we have many re- 
 mains. 
 
 Wakefield has been the scene of many 
 interesting adventures, which ought not to 
 be lost through supineness and false no- 
 tions. I have heard, on good authority, 
 one of a lady, who had the craft to get 
 acquainted with the Freemason's secret, 
 but, being detected, was made a mason, 
 
 306 
 
 and, strange to relate, actually kept the 
 secret to the last moment of her existence 
 N. S. 
 Morky, near Leeds, Yorkshire. 
 Januiry 31, 1831. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 March 13. Day breaks . . 4 19 
 
 Sun rises ... 6 13 
 
 — sets ... 5 47 
 
 Twilight ends . 7 41 
 
 Coltsfoot flowers by road-sides. 
 
 mSLVtit 13. 
 
 March 13, 1661, Mr. Evelyn sets down 
 in his diary, — " This afternoon, Princer 
 Rupert shewed me with his own hand the 
 new way of graving, called mezzotinto, 
 which afterwards I published in my ' His- 
 torory of Chaleography ;' this set so many 
 artists on work, that they soon arrived to- 
 that perfection that it is since come (to), 
 emulating the tenderest miniatures." 
 
 Prince Rupert was the inventor of the 
 art of mezzotinto engraving. He is said 
 to have taken the hint from observing a 
 soldier scraping his rusty fusil. The inven- 
 tion is also claimed for Sir Christopher 
 Wren, by whom it is certain that there is 
 a black-moor's head. A MS. of Ver- 
 tue's mentions a large head " something 
 like mezzotinto," by an earlier hand, and 
 refers to Sandrart's Lives of the Painters 
 for another inventor of mezzotinto. The 
 discovery is, however, generally awarded 
 to Prince Rupert, whose first print is in 
 the first edition of Evelyn's " ^ulptura." 
 A fine impression of this engraving by the 
 Prince is valuable. Vaillant, the painter, 
 who came into England with him soon 
 after the restoration, assisted him consider- 
 ably, and improved upon the invention. 
 
 Prince Rupert's military eminence is 
 well known. He was fond of philosophi- 
 cal experiments, and very ingenious. His 
 glass drops are familiar to every school- 
 boy, although when he devised them they 
 surprised the learned. Pepys writes in 
 1662, " Mr. Peter did show us the experi- 
 ment (which I had heard talk of) of the 
 chemical glasses, which break all to dust 
 by breaking off a little small end ; which 
 is a great mystery to me." The Prince 
 also invented a metal called by his name, 
 in which cannon were cast ; and he con- 
 trived a method of boring them, for which 
 purpose a water-mill was erected at Hack- 
 ney-marsh, which ruined the person en- 
 
307 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 14. 
 
 308 
 
 gaged in it, for the Prince died without 
 disclosing his plan. The lovers of angling 
 are indebted to him for the method of 
 tempering the best fish-hooks, which Prince 
 Rupert discovered, and disclosed his se- 
 cret to old Christopher Kirby, the fishing 
 tackle maker.* 
 
 March 13. Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 — sets 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 b. m. 
 
 4 17 
 
 6 11 
 
 5 19 
 
 7 43 
 
 Heart's ease, or pansie, flowers. This 
 plant is also called herb trinity, come 
 kiss me, three faces under a hood, and by 
 other names. 
 
 ifWarrt) u. 
 
 On the 14th of March, 1758, died, at the 
 age of 75, the once celebrated and still 
 remembered Marshal, General Wade, who 
 commanded against the forces of the pre- 
 tender, in 1715 ; and, having finished the 
 contest, remained in Scotland as com- 
 mander in chief. While holding that office 
 his soldiers eifected the famous military 
 road through the Highlands, which tended 
 more to the civilization of the country 
 than all that the sovereigns before the 
 reign of George I. ever eifected. Its in- 
 considerable expense has caused no less 
 wonder than a just admiration of his 
 incorruptible integrity. He likewise built 
 the noble bridge over the Tay. 
 
 When Marshal Wade commanded as 
 generalissimo of the English and Hano- 
 verian forces, the English were greatly 
 dissatisfied with him and the Due d'Arem- 
 berg. These allied generals were se- 
 verely censured in England, and became 
 the ridicule of France, not only in private 
 companies, but upon the stage, where they 
 were introduced into farces and panto- 
 mimes. The Marshal introduced the bill 
 into parliament which disarmed and chang- 
 ed the dress of the Highlanders. He was 
 greatly attached to gaming, and not very 
 choice of the company he piayed with. One 
 night at the gaming table he missed a 
 valuable gold snuff-box, richly set with 
 diamonds. He insisted upon an imme- 
 diate search, and that no person should 
 leave the room until it was found. A gen- 
 
 tleman, who sat on his right, dressed as 
 an officer, in clothes much worn, with 
 great humility had asked and obtained 
 permission, four or five times, to go his 
 shilling with the matshal,— he with great 
 vehemence declared, upon the honour of a 
 soldier, that he had not the box, nor knew 
 any thing of it, but that he would rather 
 die than be searched : he was willing, how- 
 ever, to retire to the next room, and defend 
 his honour, or perish in the attempt. The 
 marshal, who before had his suspicions, 
 was now confirmed in them, and, as the 
 sword was to be referred to, instantly pre- 
 pared for the attack ; but, to his confusion, 
 in drawing, he felt the box in a secret 
 pocket. Stung with remorse at having 
 wounded the honour of a soldier, he said, 
 as he hastily left the room, " Sir, I here, 
 with great reason, ask your pardon ; and 
 hope to find it granted, by your breakfast- 
 ing with me, and hereafter ranking me 
 amongst your friends." At breakfast, the 
 Marshal said, " Why, Sir, could you re- 
 fuse being searched?" " Because, Mar- 
 shal, being upon half-pay and friendless, 
 I am obliged to husband every penny. I 
 had, that day, little appetite; and as I 
 could not eat what I had paid for, nor 
 afford to lose it, the leg and wing of a 
 fowl, with a manchet, were then wrapped 
 up in a piece of paper in my pocket; the 
 idea of these being found there appeared 
 ten times more terrible than fighting the 
 room round." " Enough, my dear boy," 
 exclaimed Wade, " you have said enough ! 
 your name. Let us dine at Sweet's to- 
 morrow ; we must prevent your being 
 .subjected again to such a dilemma." At 
 Sweet's the Marshal presented him with a 
 Captain's commission, and a purse to en- 
 able him to join the regiment.* 
 
 The Season. 
 
 Spring, the year's youth, fair mother of new 
 
 flowers, 
 New leaves, new loves, drawn by the winged 
 
 hours. 
 Thou art return'd, but nought returns with 
 
 thee. 
 Save my lost joys' regretful memory. 
 Thou art the self-same thing thou wert before. 
 As fair and jocund : but I am no more 
 The thing I was. 
 
 R. Fanshawe — 1653, 
 
 Granger. 
 
 Noble. 
 
309 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 15, 16, 17. 
 
 310 
 
 I h. ui. 
 
 March ti Daybreaks . . 4 IS 
 
 Sun rises ... 6 9 
 
 sets .... 5 51 
 
 Twilight ends . . 7 45 
 Dogs-tooth violet flowers in green- 
 houses, and in warm situations. 
 
 iWatrtj 15. 
 
 Palm Sunday 
 
 Is the Sunday before Easter, and it may 
 fell so early as on this day 
 
 It is said in " Dives and Pauper, 1496," 
 respecting the first commandant, " On 
 Palme Sondaye, at procession, the priest 
 drawith up the veyle before the rode, and 
 faUeth down to the ground with all the 
 people, and saith thrice Ave Rex Noster, 
 Hayle be thou our King." In Mr. Ly- 
 sons's Environs of London, among his 
 curious extracts from the Churchwardens 
 and Chamberlains' Accounts at Kingston 
 upon-Thames, occurs the following: — 
 « 1 Hen. VIII. For Ale upon Palm Son- 
 day on syngyng of the passion £0. Os. Id." 
 
 The ceremony of bearing Palms on Pain; 
 Sunday was retained in England after 
 some others were dropped, and was one 
 of those which Henry VIII., in 1536, de- 
 clared were not to be contemned and cast 
 away. In one of the volumes of Procla- 
 mations, in the Library of the Society of 
 Antiquaries, is one printed and dated 26th 
 I'ebruary, 30 Henry VIII., " concernyng 
 Rites and Ceremonies to be used in due 
 fourme in the Churche of Englande," 
 wherein occurs the following clause : — 
 " On Palme Sonday it shall be declared 
 that bearing of Palmes renueth the memorie 
 of the receivinge of Christe in lyke man- 
 ner into Jerusalem before his deathe." 
 And " to carry their Palmes discreatlye," 
 is among the Roman Catholic Customs 
 censured by Bale, in his Declaration of 
 Bonner's Articles, 1554.* 
 
 Palm, or, to speak properly, slips of the 
 willow, with its velvet-looking buds, are 
 sometimes still stuck in churches on Palm 
 Sunday. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 March 15. Day breaks . .4 13 
 
 Sun rises ... 6 7 
 
 — sets . . . 5 53 
 
 Twilight ends . . 7 47 
 
 Least willnw-wren arrives. This bird 
 is seen in the south of England all the 
 winter. 
 
 • Brand. 
 
 Ifttarct) 16. 
 
 On a pane of glass, in the parlour win- 
 dow of the pleasant little road-side pub- 
 lic-house called " the Plough," in Lord- 
 ship-lane, leading from West Peckham 
 to Sydenham, there is tlte following in- 
 scription : — 
 
 " March 16, 1810, 
 " Thomas Mount Jones dined here, 
 " Eat six pounds of bacon, drank nineteen 
 
 pots of beeer.'' 
 
 It is a question for discussion, whether, 
 in the hero of this frail memorial, the love of 
 distinction and desire for fame were not 
 greater than his love of brutal gluttony. 
 
 h. in. 
 
 March 16. Daybreaks . . 4 11 
 
 Sun rises ... 6 5 
 
 — sets .... 5 55 
 
 Twilight ends . . 7 49 
 
 White and orange narcissus flowers. 
 
 Snow-drops begin to decline. 
 
 m^vcf) 17. 
 
 St. Patrick. 
 
 This being the festival day of the patron 
 Saint of Ireland is denoted by wearing 
 the " green immortal shamrock ;'' and by 
 feasts and convivial meetings. 
 
 Sir Thomas Overbury, in his Characters, 
 has an allusion to this day : he says, 
 when describing a running footman, " "Tis 
 impossible to draw his picture to the life, 
 'cause a man must take it as he's running; 
 only this, horses are usually let hloud on 
 St. Steven's day : on St. Patrick's he takes 
 rest, and is drencht for all the yeare after." 
 
 There are notices of the shamrock and 
 allusions to it in several books. 
 
 As the British Druids and Bards had an 
 extraordinary veneration for the number 
 three, so, says Vallancey, " the misletoe 
 was sacred to the Druids, because not only 
 its berries but its leaves, also, grow in clus- 
 ters of three, united to one stock. The 
 Christian Irish hold the seamroy sacred in 
 like manner, because of three leaves united 
 to one stalk." The " seamroy" is thus 
 mentioned in the Irish- English Dictionary. 
 " Seamroy, clover, trefoil, worn by Irish- 
 men in their hats, by way of a cross, on 
 St. Patrick's day, in memory of that great 
 saint." Spenser, in his view of the State 
 of Ireland, 1596, speaking of " these late 
 warres of Mounster," which was, before. 
 
311 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 18. 
 
 312 
 
 " a most rich and plentiful! countrey, full 
 of come and cattle," says the inhabitants 
 were so reduced, that, " if they found a 
 plot of water-cresses or shamrocks, there 
 they docked as to a feast for the time." 
 Sir Henry Piers says, that in Westmeath, 
 between May day and harvest, " butter, 
 new cheese, and curds, and shamrocks, are 
 the food of the meaner sort all this season." 
 Wythers in his " abuses stript and whipt, 
 1613," has this passage . — 
 
 And, for my cloatbing, iu a mantle goe. 
 And feed on Sham-roots as the Irish doe.* 
 
 The Shamrock. 
 
 Through Erin's isle. 
 
 To sport awhile. 
 As Love and Valour wandered. 
 
 With Wit, the sprite. 
 
 Whose quiver bright 
 A thousand arrows squandered ', 
 
 Where'er they pass, 
 
 A triple grass 
 Shoots up with dew-drops streaming ; 
 
 As softly green 
 
 As emerald's seen 
 Through purest crystal gleaming ! 
 
 Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Sham- 
 rock ! 
 Chosen leaf 
 Of bard and chief. 
 Old Erin's native Shamrock '. 
 
 Says Valour, * See, 
 
 They spring for me. 
 Those leafy gems of morning ! ' 
 
 Says Love, * No, no. 
 
 For me they grow, 
 My fragrant path adorning !' — 
 
 But Wit perceives 
 
 The triple leaves. 
 And cries, ' Oh ! do not sever 
 
 A type that blends 
 
 Three godlike friends. 
 Love, Valour, Wit, for ever !' 
 
 Oh, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Sham- 
 rock ! 
 Chosen leaf 
 Of bard and Chief, 
 Old Erin's native Shamrock ! 
 
 Moore. 
 
 Spenser, writing in 1596, and before 
 quoted, says, respecting manners and 
 superstitions in the sister nation, — "The 
 Irish, at this day, when they goe to battaile, 
 say certaine prayers or chavmes to their 
 swordes, making a crosse therewith upon 
 the earth, and thrusting the points of their 
 
 • Citations from Brand. 
 
 blades into the ground, thinking thereby 
 to have the better successe in fight. Also 
 they use commonly to sweare by their 
 swords. — The manner of their woemen's 
 riding on the wrong side of the horse, I 
 meane with their faces towards the right 
 side, as the Irish use, is (as they say) old 
 Spanish, and some say African, for 
 amongst them the woemen (they say) use 
 so to ride." Gainsford, in "The Glory of 
 England, 1619," speaking of the Irish, 
 says, " They use incantations and spells, 
 wearing girdles of women's haire, and 
 locks of their lovers : they are curious 
 about their horses tending to witchcraft." 
 
 h. m. 
 Mitrch 17. Day breaks 4 8 
 
 Sun rises ... 6 3 
 — sets . . . . 5 67 
 Twilight ends . . 7 52 
 Sweet violet flowers abundantly. This 
 sweet plant, from its station under an old 
 wall or bank in the garden, is recognized 
 before it is seen, by its delicate smell 
 borne upon the gales. 
 
 Marc^ 18. 
 
 Earl of Portland. 
 
 Richard Weston, Earl of Portland, 
 who died in March, 1634, set out in life 
 with a great character for prudence, spirit, 
 and abilities, and discharged his duty as 
 ambassador, and afterwards, on his re- 
 turn, as chancellor of the exchequer, 
 with much credit. Under the ministry 
 of the Duke of Buckingham, in the reign 
 of James I., he was appointed lord trea- 
 surer : on which he suddenly became so 
 elated, that he lost all disposition to 
 please ; and, soon after the duke's death, 
 became his successor in the public hatred, 
 without succeeding him in his credit at 
 court. His lust after power, and his ra- 
 pacity to raise a great fortune, were im- 
 measurable ; yet the jealousy of his 
 temper frustrated the one, and the great- 
 ness of his expenses the other. His im- 
 perious nature led him to give frequent 
 offence, while his timidity obliged him 
 to make frequent humiliating concessions 
 to the very people he had offended. He 
 had a strange curiosity to learn what the 
 persons injured said of him; the know- 
 ledge of which always brought on fresh 
 troubles, as he would expostulate with 
 them for their severe sayings, as if he had 
 never given cause for them; by which he 
 
313 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 19. 
 
 314 
 
 would often discover the mean informant 
 of his fruitless intelligence. At his death 
 he was in universal disesteera, and the 
 family and fortune, for which he labored 
 so greatly, were extinct early in the next 
 reign.* 
 
 Let my estate be never so meane, I 
 will ever keep myself rather beneath, than 
 either level or above it. — A man may rise 
 when he will, with honour, but cannot 
 fall without shame. — Bp. .Hall, 
 
 h. m, 
 
 March 18 Day breaks ..46 
 
 Sun rises . .62 
 
 — sets . . . 5 58 
 
 Twilight ends . . 7 54 
 
 Oxlip flowers. 
 
 Great leopards bane flowers, now and 
 then, in mild years. 
 
 ittarcf) 19. 
 
 Maundy Thursday 
 Is the Thursday before Easter. Some 
 ancient usages upon this day are stated in 
 the Every Day Book, together with an ac- 
 count of bestowing the Maundy at court, 
 where silver and provisions are annually 
 distributed by the king's almoner to poor 
 people. Tht ancient sovereigns of Eng- 
 land were accustomed to wash the feet of 
 twelve paupers, in imitation of the Sa- 
 viour washing the feet of his disciples. 
 The giving of the " maund," which ac- 
 companied the practice, is the only relic 
 of it remaining. King James II. was the 
 last who personally washed the feet of the 
 poor people. The Earl of Northumber- 
 land, m 1512, kept his " Maundy," if at 
 home, for as many poor men as he was 
 years of age. Cardinal Wolsey, in 1530, 
 at Peterborough Abbey : " upon Palme 
 Sunday he bare his palme, and went in 
 procession, with the monks setting forth 
 the divine service right honorably, with 
 such singing men as he then had there of 
 his own. And, upon Maundy Thursday, 
 he made his Maundy there, in our Lady's 
 chapel, having fifty-nine poor men whose 
 feet he washed and kissed ; and, after he 
 had wiped them, he gave every of the said 
 poor men twelve pence in money, three 
 ells of good canvass to make them shirts, 
 a pair of new shoes, a cast of ted herrings, 
 and three white herrings; and one of these 
 had two shillings."f 
 
 * Noble, 
 t Cavendish's Life of Wolsey. 
 
 Old Watchmakers. 
 
 On the 19th of March, 1725, died, aged 
 75, Daniel Quare, an eminent watch- 
 maker. He was successor to George Gra- 
 ham, who died in 1775, at the age of 78. 
 Graham was successor to Thomas Tora- 
 pion, who died in 1713, aged 75. Tom- 
 pion had been a blacksmith. Before his 
 time, watches were of rude construction. 
 In the reign of Charles I. they were much 
 improved. The king's own watch, which 
 is still preserved, has a catgut string in- 
 stead of a chain ; and indeed watches of 
 that construction were in use during a very 
 considerable time after the period of their 
 improvement. The Rev. Mark Noble, 
 who died a few years ago, says, " When 
 very young I was indulged with taking an 
 ancient family watch to school. It was 
 very small and in silver cases, with a cat- 
 gut string instead of a chain ; and it re- 
 quired to be wound up every twelve hours. 
 It was made in Holland. At this moment 
 I feel ashamed to say, that I pulled it to 
 pieces, and sold the movements for whirli- 
 gigs." Robert Hooke invented the double 
 balance in 1658, which Tompion com- 
 pleted in 1675, and presented to Charles 
 II., and two of them were sent to 
 the dauphin of France, where Huygens 
 had obtained a patent for spiral spring- 
 watches, which idea, it is believed, he 
 gained from the information of Mr, Old- 
 enburg, who derived it from Mr. Per- 
 ham. It is allowed, however, that 
 Iluygens did invent those watches which 
 went without strings or chains. Barlow, 
 in the reign of James II., is said to have 
 discovered the method of making striking 
 watches ; but, Quare's being judged supe- 
 rior by the privy council, Barlow did not 
 obtain a patent. Tompion's watches con- 
 tinued valuable for a long time, owing to 
 their being large, and the wheels having 
 been made of well-hammered brass. The 
 three eminent watchmakers in succession, 
 Tompion, Graham, and Quare, were mem- 
 bers of the society of Friends.* 
 
 Watches. 
 
 Watches may be traced to the four- 
 teenth century. They were shaped like 
 an egg, and are supposed to have been 
 first invented at Nuremberg. Although 
 it has been said that they were introduced 
 into England in 1577, yet it is certain 
 that Henry VIII. had a watch ; and in 
 
 • Noble. 
 
315 
 
 THE YBAR BOOK.— MARCH 19. 
 
 316 
 
 1572 the earl of Leicester presented to 
 queen Elizabeth " one armelet, or shakell 
 of golde, all over fairely garnished with 
 mall diamondes, and fower score and 
 one smaller peeces, fully garnished with 
 like diamondes, and hanging thereat a 
 round clocke fuUie garnished with dia- 
 monds, and an appendant of diamonds 
 hanging thereat." They were worn os- 
 tentatiously hanging round the neck to a 
 chain, which fashion has of late been re- 
 vived. In an old play, "A Mad World 
 My Masters," one of the characters says, 
 " Ah, by my troth, Sir ; besides a jewel, 
 and a jewel's fellow, a good fair watch, 
 that hung about my ngck." A watch 
 makes a part of the supposed grandeur 
 of Malvolio, in his anticipated view of 
 his great fortune. — "I frown the vyhile, 
 and perchance wind up my watch, or play 
 with some rich jewel." The "motley 
 fool," described by Jacques, had a watch 
 in his pocket, which Shakspeare poetically 
 calls a dial. 
 
 And then he drew a dial from his poke. 
 And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye. 
 Says, very wisely, it is teno'clock. 
 
 Aubrey tells the following story of a Mr. 
 Allen, a reputed sorceror, which, as he 
 , died in 1630, at the age of 96, may refer 
 to the middle of Elizabeth's reign : " One 
 time teing at Home Lacy, in Hereford- 
 shire, he happened to leave his watch in 
 the chamber window (watches were fheri 
 rarities) ; the maids came in to make the 
 bed, and hearing a thing in a case ory 
 ' tick, tick, tick,' presently concluded that 
 that was the devil [Allen's supposed fami- 
 liar], and took it by the string with the 
 tongs, and threw it out of the window in 
 the mote, to drown the devil. It so hap- 
 pened that the string hung on a sprig of 
 elder that grew out of the mote, and this 
 confirmed them that 'twas the devil. So 
 the good old gentleman got his watch 
 again." The hon. Daines Barrington 
 mentions that a thief was detected by 
 watches called " strikers," which he says 
 were introduced, in the reign of Charles 
 II. ; but repeating watches were worn in 
 the time of Ben Jonson: in his " Staple 
 of News," he brings in one : — 
 
 'Tstrikes ! one, two. 
 
 Three, four, five. six. Enough, enough, dear 
 
 watch, 
 Thy pulse hath beat enongh. Now stop, and 
 
 rest ; 
 Would thou couldst make the time to do so 
 
 too; 
 III wind thee up no more. 
 
 Watches were so rarely in use in the 
 early time of James I., that it was deemed 
 a cause of suspicion that one was found, 
 in 1605, upon Guy Vaux. Jonson, in 
 the "Alchemist," tells of the loan of one 
 to wear on a particular occasion : — ■ 
 And I had lent my watch last night, to one 
 That dines to-day at the sheriff's. 
 
 In 1638 they were more common. It is 
 complained in the " Antipodes," a comedy 
 of that year, that 
 
 Every clerk can carry 
 
 The time of day in his pocket : 
 
 on which account a projector in the 
 same play proposes to diminish the griev- 
 ance by a 
 
 Project against 
 
 The multiplicity o£ pocket watches. 
 
 As respects the early price of watches 
 scarcely any thing is known. In 1643 
 four pounds were paid to redeem a watch 
 taken from a nobleman in battle. In 
 1661 there was advertised as lost, " a 
 round watch of reasonable size, showing 
 the day of the month, age of the moon, 
 and tides, upon the upper plate. Thomas 
 Alcock, fecit." Pepys's curiosity extended 
 to he M^uainted with the watch : he says 
 in his diary, December 22, 1661, " I to 
 my lord Brouncker's, and there spent the 
 evening, by my desire, in seeing his lord- 
 ship open to pieces and make up again 
 his watch, thereby being taught what I 
 never knew before ; and it is a thing very 
 well worth my having seen, and am 
 mightily pleased and satisfied with it." 
 Our countrymen were so famous for the 
 manufacture of watches that, in 1698, an 
 act was passed to compel makers to affix 
 their names upon those they made, in 
 order that discreditable ones might not 
 be passed for English.* 
 
 The following paragraph from a news- 
 paper of April 26, 1788, tends to claim a 
 higher antiquity for watches than is 
 already stated. "Among other curious 
 pieces in his majesty's possession is a 
 watch, which was found in Bruce Castle, 
 in Scotland, fifteen years since. On the 
 dial-plate is written, ' Robertas B. Rex 
 Scotorum,' and over it is a convex horn, 
 instead of glass. Robert Bruce began 
 his reign in 1305, and died in 1328. The 
 outer case is of silver, in a raised pat- 
 tern, on a ground of blue enamel." 
 
 ' Noble. Fosbroke. Naros. Pcpys 
 
317 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 19. 
 
 318 
 
 The Adam and Eve. 
 A previous notice of this spot, near 
 Tottonham-court-Toad, produces, from two 
 welcome correspondents, the subjoined 
 communications : — 
 
 I. 
 Me. Hone, 
 
 It should have been mentioned tliat 
 the cut of these premises, at p. 47 of the 
 Tear Book, represents them as tliey ap- 
 peared previously to the erection, about 
 1825, of the smart baker's shop which 
 now occupies the comer. It may also be 
 recollected that the Paddington Drag, the 
 tedious progress of which is so correctly 
 described, made its way to the City down 
 the defile called Gray's Inn Lane, and 
 gave the passengers an opportunity for 
 " shopping,'' by waiting an hour or more 
 at the Blue Posts, Holborn Bars. The 
 route to the Bank, by the way of the City 
 Rosfd, was then a thing unthought of; 
 and the Hampstead coachman who first 
 achieved this daring feat was regarded 
 with admiration, somewhat akin to that 
 bestowed on him who first doubled the 
 Cape in search of a passage to India. 
 
 The spot which you recollect as a 
 rural suburb, and which is now surrounded 
 on every side by streets and squares, was 
 once numbered among the common 
 boundaries of a Cockney's Sunday walk. 
 George Wither, in his " Brittain's Remem- 
 brancer, 1628," has this passage : — 
 " Some by the bancks of Thames their plea- 
 sure taking ; 
 Some,sullibubs among the milkmaids making; 
 With musiqae some, upon the waters rowing; 
 Some to the next adjoyning hamlets going ; 
 And Hogsdoue, Islington, and Totknam-Covrt, 
 For cakes and creame, had then no small resort." 
 
 One or two more notices of these 
 ancient Sunday walks may not be un- 
 suited to the Year Book. In the poem 
 just quoted. Wither mentions — 
 *' Those who did never travell, till of late, 
 Halfe way to Pancridge from the City gate." 
 
 Brome in his " New Academy, 1 658, " 
 Act 2, has this passage : — 
 
 '' When shall we walk to Totnam ? or crosse 
 
 ore 
 The water 1 or take coach to Kensington, 
 Or Paddington, or to some one or other 
 O'the City out-leaps, for an afternoon V 
 
 And again. Act 3 of the same play : — 
 
 ** He's one 
 
 Of the foure famous prentices o' the time. 
 None of the cream-and-cake boyes ; nor of 
 
 those 
 
 That gall their hands with stool-balls, or their 
 
 cat-sticks. 
 For white-pots, pudding-pies, stew'd prunes, 
 
 and tansies. 
 To feast their titts at Islington or Hogsden." 
 
 Staffordshire Moorlands. 
 
 II. 
 Mr. Hone, 
 
 Your brief notice of the Adam and Eve, 
 Hampstead-road, has awakened many a 
 pleasant reminiscence of a suburb which 
 was the frequent haunt of my boyish 
 days, and the scene of some of the hap- 
 piest hours of my existence, at a more 
 mature age. But it has also kindled a 
 very earnest desire for a more particular 
 inspection into the store-house of your 
 memory, respecting this subject ; and it 
 has occurred to me, that you could 
 scarcely fill a sheet or two of your Year 
 Book with matter more generally in- 
 teresting, to the majority of your readers, 
 than your own recollections of the northern 
 suburb of London would supply. Few 
 places afford more scope for pleasant 
 writing, and for the indulgence of per- 
 sonal feeling ; for not many places have 
 undergone, within the space of a few 
 years, a more entire, and, to me, scarcely 
 pleasing, transmutation. I am almost 
 afraid to own that " Ma/jr-le-bone Park " 
 holds a dearer place in my affections than 
 its more splendid, but less rural successor. 
 When too I remember the lowly, but pic- 
 turesque, old " Queen's Head and Arti- 
 choke," with its long skittle, and " bumble 
 puppy" grounds ; and the " Jews Harp," 
 with its bowery tea-gardens, I have little 
 pleasure in the sight of the gin-shop- 
 looking places which now bear the names. 
 Neither does the new " Haymarket" com- 
 pensate me for the fields in which I made 
 ray earliest studies of cattle, and once 
 received from the sculptor, NoUekens, an 
 approving word and pat on the head, as 
 he returned from his customary morning 
 walk. 
 
 Coming more eastward, — I remember 
 the " long fields " with regret : and, 
 Somers' Town, isolated and sunny as it 
 was when I first haunted it, is now little 
 better than another arm to the great Bria- 
 reus, dingy with smoke, and deprived, 
 almost wholly, of the gardens and fields 
 which once seemed to me to render it a 
 terrestrial paradise. The Hampstead-road, 
 and the once beautiful fields leading to, 
 and surrounding Chalk Farm, have not 
 escaped the profanations pf the builder's 
 
nlt> 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH IP. 
 
 320 
 
 craft; and Hampstead itself, " the region 
 of all suburban ruralities," has had a vital 
 blow aimed at its noble heath, and lovely 
 « Vale of Health." (Did the resemblance 
 of the scenery, in a certain sense, to 
 that of Tunbridge Wells, never occur to 
 you?) True, the intended sacrilege was 
 not effected ; but what is not to be dread- 
 ed from the pertinacity of its tasteless, 
 and, surely, senseless lord, — seilseless, be- 
 cause he cannot see that the attainment of 
 his object would defeat, instead of further, 
 his avaricious views, by rendering the 
 buildings almost wholly valueless ? One 
 might almost as reasonably deprive Rams- 
 gate of the sea, or Leamington of its Spa. 
 Hampstead, besides, affords many de- 
 lightful subjects for pictorial illustrations, 
 and which would show well in the free 
 and sketchy style of your clever engraver. 
 The residences of men remarkable for 
 talent might also be pointed out. Soraers' 
 Town, for example, is tiiU of artists, as a 
 reference to the R. A. Catalogues will 
 evince. In Clarendon-square still lives, 
 I believe, Seriven, the engraver, an artist 
 of great ability, and, in his day, of much 
 consideration. In the same neighbour- 
 hood dwells the venerable De Wilde, 
 who may justly be termed the best histo- 
 rian of the stage for upwards of half a 
 century. From his pencil came the whole 
 of the portraits illustrating Bell's edition 
 of the English Theatre; a series of which 
 the Rev. T. F. Dibdin, in his •' Library 
 Companion," has spoken of as " admirably 
 executed," and as "making the eyes 
 sparkle, and the heart dance, of a dramatic 
 virtuoso," without doing the artist the 
 poor justice of quoting even his name. 
 Not an actor, I believe, of any note, during 
 the fall period above mentioned, can be 
 named, for whose lineaments the theatrical 
 world is not indebted to the faithful and 
 skilful hand of Mr. De Wilde. 
 
 Upon further consideration, I should 
 think you might agreeably extend the plan, 
 by including the whole suburban circle. 
 Paddington and Bayswater were both 
 "rural" spots, within my remembrance. 
 They can barely claim a title to the 
 appellation now. I need not refer you 
 to a delightful paper in the Literary Ex- 
 aminer, entitled " The Country round 
 London," by Mr. Leigh Hunt. 
 
 Your paper in the Year Book led me 
 into a chat, the other evening, with a 
 very dear and venerable connexion of my 
 own, who remembers when the " New 
 Road" was not, and when the last house 
 
 in Tottenham Court-road was the public 
 house in the corner, by Whitfield's Chapel. 
 By the way, I myself remember the de- 
 struction of a tree which once shadowed 
 the skittle-ground and road-side of the 
 same house. It was cut down and con- 
 verted into fire-wood, by a man who kept 
 a coal shed hard by. My relation, above 
 referred to, also remembers when Ratli- 
 bone-place terminated at the corner of 
 Percy-street; when the windmill which 
 gave its cognomen to the street of that 
 name still maintained its position ; and 
 when large soil-pits occupied the site 
 where, I think, Charlotte-street and its 
 neighbouring thoroughfares now stand. 
 A fact which he related, connected with 
 this spot, may be worth repeating. A 
 poor creature, a sailor I believe, was 
 found dead, and denied burial by the 
 parish, nn the ground, I infer, of a want 
 of legal settlement. 'The body was placed 
 in a coffin, and carried about the streets, 
 in that condition, by persons who solicited 
 alms to defiay the expense of the funeral. 
 Something considerable is supposed to 
 have been thus collected ; but the body 
 was thrown into one of these pits, and 
 the money applied to other purposes. 
 After a time, the corpse, of course, floated, 
 and the atrocity was discovered ; but the 
 perpetrators were not to be found. My 
 informant himself saw the procession, 
 and, subsequently, the fragments of the 
 coffin lying on the surface of the water. 
 I will only add, that he recollects to have 
 seen sixteen-string Jack taken to Tyburn, 
 and that he also recollects going to see 
 the celebrated Ned Shuter at a low pot- 
 house in St. Giles's, at six in the morning, 
 where, upon quitting the Theatre, he had 
 adjourned to exhibit his extraordinary 
 powers to a motley crew of midnight- 
 revellers, consisting chiefly of highway- 
 men, carmen, sweeps, it id genus omne. 
 
 If. you snould not consider my sugges- 
 tion as at all worthy of notice, I really 
 know not how to justify this epjistle, and 
 shall therefore leave any sort of apology 
 unattempted. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 
 » * 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 larch, 19. Day breaks 
 
 . 4 4 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 6 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 6 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 7 56 
 
 White violet in full flower 
 
 
 Red butterfly appears. 
 
 
321 
 
 -^MARCH 19. 
 
 322 
 
 No. 11. 
 
 A MAGNIFICENT PAX, BY MASSO FINIGUERRO 
 
 M 
 
323 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK(t-MARCH 19. 
 
 334 
 
 THE PAX. 
 
 This was an implement anciently of 
 general use in the Roman Catholic church, 
 although now it is hardly known to mem- 
 bers of that communion. It was formed 
 of a flat piece of wood, or metal, with 
 the pictur-e of Christ upon it, and fre- 
 quently bore representations of other 
 persons. 
 
 By the constitution of Walter de Grey, 
 archbishop of York, in 1250, the pastor 
 and inhabitants were required to provide 
 a pax, among the ornaments and ecclesi- 
 astical implements of a parish church. 
 It is also mentioned in the council of 
 Mertrn, 1300. About the same time a 
 constitution o. Robert Winchelsey, arch- 
 bish p of Canterbury, in the reign of king 
 Edward I., which recited his intent and 
 desigt; to prevent all differences for the 
 futuie, between rectors and parishioners 
 in his diocese, concerning church furniture 
 and utensils, ordained and appoii^ed, that 
 certain specified articles should be pro- 
 vided at the charge of the parishioners : 
 one of these articles was an Osculatorium, 
 viz., pacis ad missam, the pax for the holy 
 kiss It wa's called by some Tabula pacis. 
 
 The injunction of St. Paul in his epis- 
 tles, to " salute one another with a holy 
 kiss," was literally observed in the primi- 
 tive church. The injunctions in the book 
 called the " Apostolical Constitutions," 
 describe the method of performing the 
 ceremony. " Let the bishop salute the 
 church, and say, The peace of God be with 
 you all : and let the people answer. And 
 with thy Spirit. Then let the deacon say 
 to all, Salute one another with a holy kiss ; 
 and let the clergy kiss the bishop, and the 
 l^iymen the laymen, and the women the 
 ^'•omen." 
 
 At the high mass of the Roman Catholic 
 church, the custom of giving the " kis.« nf 
 peace," before the communion, is still kent 
 up among the officiating clergy, as like- 
 wise among the men and the women of 
 the different religious orders. It is per- 
 formed by the parties placing their hands 
 upon each other's shoulders, and bringing 
 their left cheeks nearly in contact with 
 each other. It appears to have been so 
 practised by the laity, during the whole 
 of the middle ages, when the men and 
 the women were separated in church, — 
 the men on one side, and the women on 
 the other, — but, when the sexes began to 
 be mixed together in the less solemn 
 service, called the low mass, which ori- 
 
 ginated about the twelAh century, a sense 
 of decorum dictated the use of the Pax. 
 The priest kissed it first, then the clerk, 
 and lastly the people, who assisted at the 
 service, and who, in that manner, and by 
 the medium of the pax, kissed one an- 
 other. Fox, in his Acts and Monuments, 
 says that " Innocentius ordered the Pax 
 to be given to the people." 
 
 Matthew Paris relates that, during the 
 feuds of Henry II. and Thomas h. fiecket, 
 the " kiss of peace" between them was 
 refused : another chronicler, speaking of • 
 presumed reconciliation of their differ- 
 ences, says, " But whereas twise within a 
 few days after, the king and the archbishop 
 met at masse, the king refused to kisse 
 the Pax with him ; this was marked as a 
 signe of a fained reconciliation." The 
 king made concessions to the prelate, and 
 declared that from his whole soul he 
 willingly forgave him all past offences 
 Beckefrequired the " kiss of peace," by 
 the ceremony of kissing the Pax; but 
 this, which was then a customary' form in 
 all reconciliations, Henry said, though he 
 was very williiig to do, yet he could not 
 grant ; because, in the heat of anger, he 
 had publicly sworn that he would never 
 give it to Becket ; still, he repeated that 
 he would not entertain rancor against 
 him. By correspondence, and in confer- 
 ences, the archbishop continued to insist 
 upon the form, and the breach widened, 
 until the king prohibited correspondence 
 with him, declared him a traitor, pro- 
 hibited appeal either to the pope or 
 Becket, and ordered the Peter-pence to be 
 collected and paid into his own treasury. 
 The pope himself interfered to unite the 
 prelate and the king. Henry assented to 
 the terms, and Becket had nothing left to 
 ground a cavil upon, except the punctilio 
 of the kiss. It was a humiliation to which 
 the prelate earnestly desired to bring the 
 king, who, on his part, desired to keep 
 the vow he had publicly made, in order 
 to avoid public dishonor. Finally, to 
 avoid war with the pope, Henry submitted, 
 and kissed the Pax with Becket. 
 
 At the beginning of the Reformation 
 the Pax was retained, and the use of it 
 enforced by the ecclesiastical commission- 
 ers of king Edward VI. In 1548 the 
 following injunction was published at the 
 deanery of Doncaster :— « The clerke shall 
 bring down the Paxe, and, standing with- 
 out the church door, shall say aloud to 
 the people, these words : This is the token 
 of the joyful peace which is betwixt God 
 
325 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 19. 
 
 326 
 
 and man's contcienc£,&c." When the Re- 
 formation was completed, the Pax was 
 laid aside, and in speaking and writing it 
 came to be confounded with the pix. 
 
 In recent editions of Shakspeare, Pistol 
 is made to say. 
 
 Fortune is BardolpVs foe^ and frowns on him. 
 For he hath stolen a pix, and hanged mast 'a 
 
 be. 
 -—Exeter hath given the doom of death 
 For pix of little price. 
 
 In the old editions the article stolen by 
 Bardolph was a Pax. Ill-informed edi- 
 tors improperly changed this to a pix, 
 which, being the shrine, or tabernacle of 
 the host upon the altar, and of large size, 
 could not have been easily carried away ; 
 whereas, it could not be difficult to secrete 
 the Pax. In a catholic work, explanatory of 
 the rites and ceremonies of the mass, it is 
 described as " a little table, or model, 
 with a crucifix graven therein (which from 
 the Kiss of Peace is commonly called the 
 Pax), given first to the priest to kiss, and 
 after, in like manner, to all present." 
 
 The salutation of the Pax followed the 
 Agnus Dei, in the mass, preparatory to 
 the communion. As one of the reasons 
 assigned for its disuse, it is said, in the 
 last mentioned work on the mass, " some 
 have added, that there is so little peace in 
 the world, that it was not proper to use 
 this symbol of peace to so little profit." 
 Dr. Milner, a catholic prelate of the pre- 
 sent day, presumes dtat the Pax was 
 withdrawn on account of disputes among 
 the people for precedency, on its being 
 presented. That the point of precedency 
 was contended for so early as Chaucer, 
 appears in his " Parson's Tale," fi'om this 
 passage : — " He waiteth to sit, or to go 
 above him in the way, or kisse the Fax, 
 or be encensed, or gon to offring, before 
 his neighbour." 
 
 In 1821 Dr. Milner sent to the society 
 of Antiquaries an ancient Pax ; it was a 
 silver plate with embossed figures on the 
 surface, representing the crucifixion, and 
 the Virgin and others standing at the 
 cross. This Pax was of silver, about two 
 inches and a half in height, by two in 
 breadth; and about an eighth in thick- 
 ness ; square at bottom, and bluntly 
 pointed, or rounded, at the top ; with a 
 projecting bracket behind, agamst which 
 It rested, nearly upright, when put out of 
 the hand. Its general form may be com- 
 
 pared to that of a flat iron for smoothing 
 linen, except its being much smaller.* 
 
 But Dr. Milner's Pax, at the society of 
 Antiquaries, of which there is a represent- 
 ation, was far exceeded in size, decoration, 
 and style of workmanship, by two 
 beautiful Paxes, impressions from 
 which, upon paper, connect them with 
 the history of chalcography, and are the 
 subject of erudite inquiry and remark, in 
 the introduction to "A Collection of One 
 hundred and twenty-nine Fac-Similes of 
 scarce and curious Prints, by the Early 
 Masters of the Italian, German, and 
 Flemish Schools, &c., by William Young 
 Ottley, esq., F. A. S."t The execution 
 of bpth these Paxes is ascribed by that 
 gentleman to the inventor uf chalcography, 
 Maso, or Tommaso Finiguerra, an emi- 
 nent Florentine goldsmith, who was born 
 about the year 1400 and did not long sur- 
 vive 1460. 
 
 Mr. Ottley observes upon a print of a 
 celebrated Pax, called the " Assumption," 
 or « Coronation of the Madonna," 
 which he mentions as " a work of exqui- 
 site beauty," finished by Finiguerra in 
 1452; for the church of S. Giovanni at 
 Florence, where there exists another Pax of 
 very fine workmanship, " the Crucifixion," 
 by Matteo Dei, another Florentine gold- 
 smith. 
 
 An " impression from another Pax, by 
 the same artist," occasions comparative re- 
 mark from Mr. Ottley, with a fac-simile 
 engraving, and the following description : 
 — " A Pax, on which are represented the 
 Madonna seated upon a throne, with the 
 infant Saviour in her lap ; on each side 
 of her an angel holding a lily ; and be- 
 low, St. Catherine, St. Lucia, and other 
 female saints. It may be proper to ob- 
 serve that, in the original, the diadems, or 
 glories, round the heads of the figures, 
 the borders of their garments, and the 
 wings of the two angels, are enriched by 
 gilding. This piece, which is believed to 
 be a genuine performance of Maso Fini- 
 guerra, is enclosed in a frame of massy 
 silver, richly and tastefully decorated with 
 
 * Staveley's Hist, of Churches, 191. Fos- 
 broke's Gory, of Antiquities. Archieologia, xx. 
 534. Nares' Glossary, art. Pax. Holinshed, 
 ii. an. 1170. Littleton's Henry II., 4to. ii. 
 526. Liturgical Disc, of the Mass, 1669, Ft. 
 ii. 262. 
 
 t A volume in Imperial Quarto, published 
 by Longman and Co., Moltcno, and Colnaghi 
 and Co, 
 
 M 2 
 
327 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK,— MARCH 26. 
 
 3i8 
 
 chiselled work and enamel. The two 
 letters G. R., at the bottom of the frame, 
 are probably the initials of the person by 
 "whose order the work was executed. This 
 Highly interesting specimen was purchased 
 
 by Mr. Woodbiirn, at the sale of tide late 
 sir M. M. Sykes, Bart., for £31S." 
 
 The attempt, on the page before last, to 
 picture this splendid Pax, from the fac- 
 simile in Mr. Ottley's volume, will afford 
 
 a correct idea of 
 its size and form, 
 but the margins of 
 the preceding page 
 are not wide enough 
 to contain the 
 entire ornamental 
 frame, which so pro- 
 jects on each side, at 
 the bottom, in the 
 shape of an inverted 
 bracket, or " block- 
 ing," that,taking the 
 entire frame-work 
 from top to bottom, 
 ts outline may 
 be conceived to re- 
 present the outline 
 of an inverted cup 
 or chalice. Each 
 of these side pro- 
 jections is drawn 
 upon the margin of 
 the present page ; 
 and if each be trans- 
 ferred, by the eye, to 
 each corresponding 
 outer side of the 
 frame-work of the 
 large engraving, the 
 imagination, will be 
 enabled to complete 
 the view of Fini- 
 guerra's Pax. 
 
 GRAND REVELS OF THE PRINCE OF MISRULE. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth, with many of hex no- 
 bility and court, partook in the sports of 
 " Prince of Misrule at Gray's Inn, who 
 Kept his state, and received ambassadors, 
 and made progresses, with becoming dig- 
 nity, from his creation before Christmas 
 1594, to the end of his reign on Shrove 
 Tuesday." His history is in a quarto 
 tract of rare occurrence, printed in 1688, 
 with the following title ; — 
 
 "Gesta Gbayorum, 
 
 "Or the History of the High and 
 Mighty Princey-JlENBY, Prince of 
 
 Peerpoole, Arch^duke of Sapulia and 
 Bemardia, Duke of^High and Nether 
 Holborn, Marqvh of St. Giles and 
 Tottenham, Count Palatine of Blooms- 
 bury and Clerkenwell, Great Lord of 
 the Cantons o/" Islington, Kentish Town, 
 Paddington and Knightsbridge, Knight 
 of the most Heroical Order of the Hel- 
 met, and Sovertigtt of the same, who 
 reigned and died, A. D. 1594. Toge- 
 ther with a MaS9Ue, as it was presented 
 (by His Highnesses command) for the 
 Entertainment of Queen Elizabeth, 
 who, with the Nobles of both Couiii, 
 was present thereat." 
 
329 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— MARCH 20. 
 
 3S0 
 
 There not being extant any narrative 
 so exact and interesting of A Christmas 
 Revel, as this history of the Prince of 
 Portpool, and it being a chief purpose of 
 the Tear Book to record certain sports 
 and customs of our ancestors which nave 
 not before been made known in a popular 
 manner, the adventures of this Prince and 
 his merry court will be related, as nearly 
 as may be, in the words of the original 
 writer's document, yet with due care to 
 conciseness. 
 
 The gallant gentlemen afforded by 
 Gray's Inn at ordinary revels, and betwixt 
 All-hallowtide and Christmas, exceeding 
 in number those of the other inns of court, 
 occasioned certain lovers of these sports, 
 in the year 1594, to desire a head and 
 leader to so gallant a company. 
 
 Such pastimes had been intermitted 
 during three or four years, on accouut of 
 sickness and discontinuances; but at 
 length, after many consultations among 
 the youths, and others that were most 
 forward herein, about the 12th of Decem- 
 ber in the said year, it was determined, 
 with the consent and assistance of the 
 readers and ancients, that there should be 
 elected a prince of Portpool, to govern 
 the state through the ensuing Christmas, 
 with witty inventions rather than charge- 
 able expenses. 
 
 Whereupon one Mr. Henry Helmes, 
 an accomplished Norfolk gentleman, of 
 good parts, was chosen for so great a 
 dignity, as being a proper personage, and 
 very active in dancing and revelling. 
 
 'There was a .privy council assigned 
 him, to advise of state matters, and the 
 government of his dominions. He was 
 also provided with lodgings according to 
 his state ; as a presence-chamber and a 
 council-chamber. Officers of state, of the 
 law, and of the house-hold, were also 
 appointed, together with gentlemen-pen- 
 sioners to attend on his person; and a 
 guard, with their captain, for his defence. 
 Order wa« next taken to provide trea- 
 sure, for the support of his state and 
 dignity. A benevolence was granted by 
 those abiding in his court, and, to those 
 not in the house, letters were directed, in 
 nature of privy seals, enjoining them to 
 to attend, and to contribute towards de- 
 fraying.so great a charge as was guessed 
 to be requisite. 
 
 If the receivers of these letters answered 
 that they would be present in person at 
 the sports, as divers did, and yet did not 
 take notice of the further meaning 
 
 therein expressed, they were served with 
 an alias. By this means, as also by the 
 great bounty of divers honorable favor- 
 ers of the pastimes, the prince's treasure 
 was well increased. Amongst the rest, the 
 Right Honorable Sir William Cecill, 
 Knt, Lord Treasurer of England, being of 
 the Society of the Inn, sent, undesired, to 
 the prince, as a token of his lordship's 
 favor, £10 andapuise of fine rich needle- 
 work. 
 
 When all these things sorted so well 
 to the general desire, and there was good 
 hope of effecting that which was taken in 
 hand, the following dispatch was sent by 
 a messenger : — 
 
 " To the most Honourable and Pru- 
 dent, the Governors, Assistants, and 
 Society of the Inner Temple. 
 
 " Most Grave and Noble, 
 
 " We have, upon good consideration, 
 made choice of a Prince, to be predo- 
 minant in our State of Peerpoole, for 
 some important causes that require an 
 Head or Leader : and, as we have ever 
 had great cause, by the warrant of expe- 
 rience, to assure ourselves of your 
 unfeigned love and amity, so we are, 
 upon this occasion, and in the name of 
 our Prince Elect, to pray you that it 
 may be continued ; and, in demonstra- 
 tion thereof, that you will be pleased to 
 assist us with your counsel, in the 
 person of an Ambassador that may be 
 resident here amongst us, and be a 
 Minister of Correspondence between 
 us ; and to advise of such affairs as the 
 effects whereof, we hope, shall sort to 
 the benefit of both our Estates. And 
 so, being ready to requite you with all 
 good offices, we leave you to the pro- 
 tection of the Almighty. 
 
 " Your most Loving 
 
 Friend and Ally, 
 « Grays ISn 
 
 " Dated at our Court of Graya, 
 the 14th of December, 1594." 
 This dispatch was becomingly received, 
 and answered by the following 5 — 
 
 " To the most Honorable State of 
 the Grayans. 
 " Right Honourable, and most firmly 
 United, 
 
 " If our oeserts were any way aa- 
 swerable to the great expectation of 
 your good proceedings, we might witti 
 more boldness accomplish the request 
 
331 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH iO. 
 
 332 
 
 of your kind letters, whereby rifj)leaseth 
 you to interest us in the honour of your 
 actions, which we cannot but acknow- 
 ledge for a great courtesie and kind- 
 ness (a thing proper to you, in all your 
 courses and endeavours), and repute it 
 a great honour intended towards our- 
 selves: in respect whereof, we yield, 
 with all good will, to that which your 
 honourable letters import, as your kind- 
 ness, and the bond of our ancient amity 
 and league, requireth and deserveth, 
 " Your assured Friend, 
 " The State ai Templabia. 
 
 From Teroplaria, the ISlh of 
 December, 1594." 
 
 For perpetuating the renown of the 
 IvorshipfulSociety of Gray's Inn, in respect 
 of their Christmas Prince, and to extend 
 the fame of the officers of his Court, their 
 names and offices are here set forth. 
 
 The Okdeb of the Prince of Peee- 
 poole's proceedings with his Officers and 
 Attendants at his Honorable Inthron- 
 isation ; which was likewise observed in 
 all his Solemn Marches on Grand Days, 
 and like occasions ; which place, every 
 officer did duly attend, during the reign 
 of his Highnesses Government, 
 A Marshal ) > A Marshall 
 Trumpets j ( Trumpets 
 Pursuivant at Arms . Lauye, 
 Townsmen in the j f Yeomen of the 
 Prince's Livery, > < Guard, three 
 with Halberts J ' couples 
 
 Captain of the Guard Grimes 
 
 Baron of the Grand Port . Dudley 
 Baron of the Base Port . Grante 
 
 Gentlemen for Entertainment 
 
 three couples . . Binge, Sec. 
 Baron of the Petty Port . Williams 
 Baron of the New Port . Lovel 
 Gentlemen for Entertainment Wentworth 
 three couples Zukenden 
 
 Forrest 
 Lieutenant of the Pensioners Tonstal 
 Gentlemen-Pensioners, twelve couples, 
 viz. 
 Lawson JRolts Denison 
 
 Devereug Anderson "% 
 Stapleton Glascote > cum reliquis 
 Daniel Elken j , 
 
 Chief Ranger, and Master 
 
 of the Game . . Forrest 
 Piaster of the Revels . . Lamber 
 Master of the Revellers . Jevery 
 Captain of the Pensioners . Cooke 
 Servei .... Archer 
 
 Carver 
 
 Another Server 
 Cup-bearer 
 Groom-porter 
 SheriiT 
 
 . Moseky 
 , Drewry 
 t Painter 
 . Bennett 
 4 Leach 
 
 Clerk of the Council . . Jones 
 Clerk of the Parliament 
 Clerk of the Crown . . Downes 
 Orator .... Heke 
 Recorder .... Starkey 
 Solicitor .... Duitne 
 Serjeant .... Goldsmith 
 Speaker of the Parliament . Bellen 
 Commissary / . . Greenwood 
 Attorney .... Holt 
 Serjeant .... Hitchcombe 
 Master of the Requests . Faldi 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer Kitts 
 Masterof the Wards and Idiots Ellis 
 Reader .... Cobb 
 Lord Chief Baron of the Ex- 
 chequer .... Briggt 
 Master of the Rolls . . Hetlen 
 Lord Chief Baron of the Com- 
 mon Pleas . . . Damporte 
 Lord Chief Justice of the 
 
 Prince's Bench . . Crew 
 Master of the Ordnance . Fiizwilliam 
 Lieutenant of the Tower . Lloyd 
 Master of the Jewel-house . Darlen 
 Treasurer of the Household. Smith 
 Knight Marshal . . Bell 
 
 Master of the Wardrobe . Couney 
 Comptroller of the Household Bouthe 
 Bishop of St. Giles's in the 
 
 Fields .... Dandye 
 Steward of the Household . Smith 
 Lord Warden of the four 
 
 Ports .... Damporte 
 Secretary of State . . Jones 
 Lord Admiral . . , Cecill (R-) 
 Lord Treasurer . . . Morrey 
 Lord Great Chamberlain . Southworth 
 Lord High Constable 
 Lord Marshal . , . Knaplock 
 Lord Privy Seal . . . Lampltera 
 Lord Chamberlain of the 
 
 Household . . . Markham 
 Lord High Steward . . Kempe 
 Lord Chancellor . . Johnson 
 
 Archbishop of St. Andrew's 
 
 .n Holborn . . . Bjtsh 
 Serjeant at Arms, with the 
 
 Mace .... Flemming 
 Gentleman-Usher . . Chevett 
 The Shield of Pegasus, for 
 
 the Inner Temple . . Scevington 
 Serjeant at Arras, with the 
 
 Sword .... Glascoil 
 Gentleman-Usher , , Paylm 
 
333 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. MARCH 20. 
 
 334 
 
 The Shield of the Griffin, 
 
 for Grays Inn . . WicMiffe 
 
 The King at Anns . . Perkimon 
 
 The Great Shield of the 
 
 Prince's Arms . . Cobley 
 
 The Prince of Peerpoole Helmes 
 
 A Page of Honour . . Wandforde 
 
 Gentlemen of the Privy- 
 Chamber, six couples 
 
 A Page of Honour . . Butler (R.) 
 
 Vice-Chamberlain . . Butler (T.) 
 
 Master of the Horse . . Fits-Hugh 
 
 Yeomen of the Guard, three 
 couples 
 
 Townsmen in Liveries 
 
 The Family, and Followers. 
 
 Upon the 20th day of December, being 
 St. Thomas's Eve, the Prince, with all his 
 train in order, as above set down, marched 
 from his lodging to the great hall, and 
 there took his place on his throne, under a 
 rich cloth of state : his counsellors and 
 great lords were placed about him, and 
 before him. Below the half-place, at a 
 table, sat his learned council and lawyers; 
 the rest of the ofiRcers and attendants took 
 their proper places, as belonged to their 
 condition. 
 
 Then, the trumpets having upon com- 
 mand sounded thrice, the King at Arms, 
 in his rich surcoat of arms, stood forth 
 before the Prince, and proclaimed his 
 style as foUoweth : — 
 
 "By the sacred laws of arms, and 
 
 authorized ceremonies of the same 
 
 (mangre the conceit of any malcontent), 
 
 I do pronounce my sovereign liege 
 
 lord, Sir Henky, rightfully to be the 
 
 high and mighty Prince of Peerpoole, 
 
 Arch-duke of Stapulia and Bemardia, 
 
 Duke of the High and Nether Holbom, 
 
 Marquis of St. Giles's and Tottenham, 
 
 Count Palatine of Bloomsbury and 
 
 Clerkenwell, Great Lord of the cantons 
 
 of Islington, &c.. Knight of the most 
 
 honourable Order of the Helmet, and 
 
 Sovereign of the same." 
 
 After this proclamation, the trumpet 
 
 sounded again; and then entered the 
 
 Prince's Champion, in complete armour, 
 
 on horseback, and so came riding ronnd 
 
 about the fire, and in the midst of the 
 
 Hall staid, and made his challenge in 
 
 these words following : — 
 
 " If there be any man of liigh degree, 
 or low, that will say that my Sovereign 
 is not rightly Prince of Peerpoole, as 
 by his King at Am.s right now hath 
 been proclaimed, I aTi ready here to 
 
 maintain that he lieth as a false traitor; 
 
 and I do challenge, in combat, to fight 
 
 with him, either now, or at any time or 
 
 place appointed. And, in token hereof, 
 
 I gage my gauntlet, as the Prince's true 
 
 Knight, and his Champion." 
 
 When the champion had thus made his 
 
 challenge, he departed : the trumpets 
 
 were commanded to sound, and the King 
 
 at Arms blazoned his highness's arms, as 
 
 followeth : — 
 
 "The most mighty Prince of Peer- 
 poole, &c., beareth the shield of the 
 highest Jupiter. In point, a sacred Im- 
 perial Diadem, safely guarded by the 
 helmet of the great Goddess Pallas, 
 from the violence of the darts, bullets, 
 and bolts of Saturn, Momus, and the 
 Idiot : all environed vrith the ribands of 
 loyalty, having a pendant of the most 
 heroical Order of Knighthood of the 
 Helmet ; the word hereunto, Sk vertus 
 konorem. For his Highness's crest, the 
 glorious planet Sol, coursing through 
 the twelve signs of the zodiac, on a 
 celestial globe, moved upon the two 
 poles, arctic and antarctic ; with this 
 motto. Dam totum peragraverit orbem. 
 All set upon a chaphew : Mars turned 
 up, Luna mantelled. Sapphire doubled. 
 Pearl supported by two anciently re- 
 nowned and glorious griffins, which have 
 been always in league with the honour- 
 able Pegasus." 
 
 The conceit hereof was to show that 
 the Prince, whose private arms were three 
 helmets, should defend his honor by 
 virtue, from reprehensions of mal-contents, 
 carpers, and fools. Tlie riband of blue, 
 with a helmet pendant, in imitation of 
 St. Geoi^. In his crest, his government 
 for the twelve days of Christmas was re- 
 sembled to the sun's passing the twelve 
 signs, though the Prince's course had 
 some odd degrees beyond that time : but 
 he was wholly supported by the griffins ; 
 for Grays-Inn gentlemen, and not the 
 treasure of the house, was charged. 
 
 After these things thus done, the attorney 
 stood up and made a speech of gratulation 
 to the Prince, and therein showed the sin- 
 gular perfections of his sovereign ; whereby 
 he took occasion also to move the sub- 
 jects to be forward to perform all obe- 
 dience and service to his excellency ; as 
 also to furnish his wants, if it were re- 
 quisite; and, in a word, persuaded the 
 people that they were happy in having 
 such a prince to rule over them. He 
 likewise assured the prince tliat he also 
 
3as 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK—MARCH 19. 
 
 330 
 
 Vras most happy in having rule over such 
 dutiful and loving subjects, that would 
 not think any thing, were it lands, goods, 
 or life, too dear to be at his highness's 
 command and service. 
 
 To which his highness made answer, 
 "That he did acknowledge himself to be 
 deeply bound to their merits, and in that 
 regard did promise that he would be a 
 gracious and loving prince to so well de- 
 serving subjects." And concluded with 
 good liking and commendations of their 
 proceedings. 
 
 Then the solicitor, having certain great 
 old books and records lying before him, 
 made this speech to his honor as fol- 
 loweth : — 
 " Most Excellent Prince, 
 
 " High superiority and 
 dominion is illustrated and adorned by 
 the humble services of noble and mighty 
 peisonages: and therefore, amidst the 
 garland of your royalties of your crown, 
 this is a principal flower, tliat in your 
 provinces and territories divers mighty 
 and puissant potentates are your homagers 
 and vassals ; and, although infinite are your 
 feodaries, which by their tenures do per- 
 form royal service to your sacred person, 
 pay huge sums into your treasury and ex- 
 chequer, and maintain whole legions for 
 the defence of your country ; yet some 
 special persons there are, charged by their 
 tenures to do special service at this your 
 glorious inthronization ; whose tenures, 
 for their strangeness, are admirable ; for 
 their value, inestimable ; and for their 
 worthiness, incomparable : the particulars 
 whereof do here appear in your excel- 
 lency's records, in the book of Dooms-day, 
 remaining in your exchequer, in the 50th 
 and 500th chest there." 
 
 " The names of such Homagers and 
 Tributaries as hold any Signiories, Lord- 
 ships, Lands, Privileges, or Liberties 
 under his Honour, and the Tenures and 
 Services belonging to the same, as fol- 
 loweth ;— 
 
 " Alfonso de Stapulia, and Davillo de 
 Bernardia, hold the arch-dukedoms of 
 Stapulia and Bernardia of the Prince of 
 Peerpoole, by grand serjeantry, and 
 castle-guard of the castles of Staputia and 
 Bernardia, and to right and relieve all 
 wants and wrongs of all ladies, matrons 
 and maids, within the said arch-duchy ; 
 and rendering, on the day of his excel- 
 .ency's coronation, a coronet of gold, 
 and yearly five hundred millions, ster- 
 ling 
 
 "Marotto Marquarillo, de Tlolborn, 
 holdeth the manors of High- and 
 Nether Holborn by Comage in Capite, 
 of the Prince of Peerpoole, and ren- 
 dering on the day of his honour's coro- 
 nation, for every of the prince's pen- 
 sioners, one milk-white doe, to be be- 
 stowed on them by the prince, for a 
 favour, or new-year's-night-gifl ; and 
 rendering yearly two hundred millions 
 sterling. 
 
 "Lucy Negro, Abbess de Clerken- 
 well, holdeth the nunnery of Clevken- 
 well, with the lands and privileges 
 thereunto belonging, of the Prince of 
 Peerpoole by night-service in Cauda, 
 and to find a choir of nuns, with burning 
 lamps, to chant Placebo to the gentle- 
 men of the prince's privy-chamber, on 
 the day of his excellency's coronation. 
 " Ruffiano de St. Giles's holdeth the 
 town of St. Giles's by comage in Cauda, 
 of the Prince of Peerpoole, and ren- 
 dering, on the day of his excellency's 
 coronation, two ambling easie paced 
 gennets, for the prince's two pages of 
 honour, and rendering yearly two 
 hundred millions sterling. 
 
 "Cornelius Combaldus, de Tottenham, 
 holdeth the grange of Tottenham of the 
 Prince of Peerpoole, in free and com- 
 mon soccage, by the twenty-fourth part 
 of a night's fee, and by yielding yearly 
 four quarters of rye, and threescore 
 double duckets on the feast of St.' Fan- 
 eras. 
 
 " Bartholomew de Bloomsbury hold- 
 eth a thousand hides in Bloomsbury, of 
 the Prince of Peerpoole, by escuage 
 in certain, and rendering, on the day of 
 his excellency's coronation, a ring to be 
 run at by the knights of the prince's 
 band, and the mark to be his trophy 
 that shall be adjudged the bravest 
 courser; and rendering yearly fifty 
 millions sterling. 
 
 "Amarillo de Paddington holdeth an 
 hundred ox-gangs of land in Padding- 
 ton, of the Prince of Peerpoole, by 
 petty-serjeantry, that when the prince 
 maketh a voyage royal against the 
 Amazons, to subdue and bring them 
 under, he do find, at his own charge, 
 a thousand men, well furnished with 
 long and strong morris-pikes, black 
 bills, or halberts, with morians on their 
 heads ; and rendering yearly four hun- 
 dred millions sterling. 
 
 "Bawdwine de Islington holdeth 
 the town of Islington of t'le Prince of 
 
337 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 19. 
 
 350 
 
 Peerpoole, by grand-searjeantry ; and 
 rendering, at the coronation of his 
 honour, one hundred thousand millions 
 sterling. 
 
 " Jordano Surtano de Kentish Town 
 holdeth the canton of Kentish Town of 
 the Prince of Peerpoole, in tail-general, 
 at the will of the said prince, as of hia 
 manor of Deep Inn, in his province of 
 Islington by the veirge, according to 
 the custom of the said manor; that 
 when any of the prince's officers or 
 family do resort thither for change of 
 air, or else variety of diet, as weary of 
 court-life, and such provision, he do 
 provide for a mess of the yeomen of the 
 guard, or any of the black-guard, or 
 such like inferior officer so coming, 
 eight loins of mutton, which are sound, 
 well fed, and not infectious; and for 
 every gentleman-pensioner, or other of 
 good quality, coneys, pigeons, chickens, 
 or juch dainty morsel. But the said 
 Jordano is not bound by his tenure to 
 boil, roast, or bake the same, or meddle 
 further than the bare delivery of the 
 said cates, and so to leave them to the 
 handling, dressing, and breaking up of 
 themselves : and rendering for a fine to 
 the prince one thousand five hundred 
 marks. 
 
 " Markasius Burticanus and Hiero- 
 nyraus Paludensis de Knightsbridge do 
 hold the village of Knightsbridge, with 
 the appurtenances in Knightsbridge, of 
 the Prince of Peerpoole, by villtnage 
 in bare tenure, that they two shall jointly 
 find three hundred and fifty able and 
 sufficient labouring men, with instru- 
 ments and tools necessary for the making 
 clean of all channels, sinks, creeks, and 
 gutters within all the cities of his 
 highness's dominions, and also shall 
 cleanse and keep clean all, and all 
 manner of ponds, puddles, dams, springs, 
 locks, runlets, becks, water-gates, slimes, 
 passages, strait entrances, and dan- 
 gerous quagmires, and also shall repair 
 and mend all common low and high 
 ways, by laying stones in the pits and 
 naughty places thereof ; and also that 
 they do not suffer the aforesaid places 
 to go to decay through their default, 
 and lack of looking unto, or neglect of 
 doing their parts and duties therein." 
 
 The tenures being thus read by the so- 
 licitor, then were called by their names 
 those homagers that were to perform their 
 services according to their tenures. 
 
 Upon the summons given, Alfonso de 
 Stapulia and Davillo de Bernardia came 
 to the prince's footstool, and offered a 
 coronet according to their service, and did 
 homage to his highness in solemn manner, 
 kneeling according to th» order in such 
 cases accustomed. The rest that appeared 
 were deferred to better leisure, and they 
 that made default were fined at great 
 sums, and their default recorded. 
 
 Then was a parliament summoned, 
 but by reason that some special officers 
 were compelled to be absent, without 
 whose presence it could not be holden — 
 it did not meet. Yet was a subsidy 
 raised of the commons towards the sup- 
 port of his highness's port and sports; and 
 a general and free pardon was issued, ex- 
 cept for manifold offences therein set 
 forth [as the same doth at large in print 
 appear]; on which pardon having been 
 read by the solicitor, the prince made a 
 speech, wherein he gave his subjects to 
 understand that, although in clemency he 
 pardoned all offences to that present time, 
 yet he meant not to give occasion of pre- 
 sumption in breaking his laws, and the 
 customs of his dominions and government. 
 In this speech he desired that the wronged 
 should make their causes known to him- 
 self by petition to the master of requests : 
 and he excused the causes of the great 
 taxes and sums of money that were levied, 
 because his predecessors had not left his 
 coffers full of treasure, nor his ctown fur- 
 nished as became the dignity of so great a 
 prince. 
 
 Then his highness called for the master 
 of the revels, and willed him to pass the 
 time in dancing : so his gentlemen-pen- 
 sioners and attendants, very gallantly ap- 
 pointed in thirty couples, danced the old 
 measures, and their galliards, and other 
 kinds of dances, revelling till it was very 
 late ; and so spent the rest of their per- 
 formance in those exercises, until it pleased 
 his honor to depart to his lodging with 
 sound of trumpets, and his attendants in 
 order as before set forth. 
 
 This was the conclusion of the first 
 grand night; the performances whereof 
 increased expectation of great things to 
 ensue : insomuch that it urged to greater 
 state than was at the first intended. And 
 therefore, besides all the sumptuous service 
 that was continually done the prince in 
 a princely manner, and besides the usual 
 daily revels and sports, divers grand 
 nights were appointed for the reception of 
 strangers to the pastimes and sports 
 
339 
 
 THE. YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 19. 
 
 340 
 
 Upon the next grand night, being In- 
 nocent's Day at night, there was a great 
 presence of lords, ladies, and worship- 
 ful personages, expectant of a notable 
 performance, which had been intended; 
 but the multitude was so exceedingly great 
 that there was no convenient room for 
 those that were to be the actors, by reason 
 whereof, very good inventions and con- 
 ceits could not have opportunity to be 
 applauded, which otherwise would have 
 yielded great content to the beholders. 
 
 Upon which night the Inner Temple, 
 the ancient friend and ally of Grays Inn, 
 sent its Ambassador to the Prince, as from 
 Frederick Templarius, their Emperor, who 
 was then busied in his wars against the 
 Turk. The ambassador came to the 
 court of Graya, very gallantly appointed, 
 and attended by a great number of brave 
 gentlemen, about nine o'clock at night. 
 Upon whose coming thither, the king at 
 arms gave notice thereof to the prince, 
 then sitting in his chair of state, and 
 showed that the Templarian ambassador 
 seemed to be of very good sort, because 
 so well attended ; and his highness ordered 
 certain of his nobles and lords to conduct 
 him into the hall. So he was brought 
 into the presence with sound of trumpets, 
 the king at arms and lords of portpoole 
 marching before him in order; and he 
 was graciously received by the prince, and 
 placed in a chair beside his highness. 
 But, before the Templarian ambassador 
 took his seat, he made a speech to the 
 prince, wherein he declared that his high- 
 ness's great renown was famed throughout 
 all the world, and had reached the ears of 
 liis sovereign master, Frederick Templa- 
 rius, while then warring beyond sea, who 
 liad sent him his ambassador to reside at 
 his excellency's court, which function, the 
 ambassador said, he was the more willing 
 to accomplish, because the state of Graya 
 had graced Templaria with an ambassador 
 about thirty years before, upon like occa- 
 sion. 
 
 To which speech the prince of Graya 
 made suitable answer, with commenda- 
 tions and welcome to the ambassador and 
 his favorites, for their master's sake, and 
 their own good deserts and condition. 
 
 When the ambassador was seated, and 
 something notable was to be performed 
 or disport and delight, there arose such 
 a disordered tumult, that there was no 
 opportunity to effect that which was de- 
 signed ; inasmuch as a great number of 
 worshipfiil personages would not be dis- 
 
 placed from the stage, together with 
 gentlewomen whose sex did privilege 
 them; and though the prince and his 
 officers endeavoured a reformation, yet 
 there was no hope of redress for the pre- 
 sent. And the lord ambassador and his 
 train thought that they were not so kindly 
 entertained as they expected, and there- 
 upon would not stay longer at that time, 
 but quitted the presence discontented and 
 displeased. After their departure, so 
 much of the throng and tumults did con- 
 tinue, as to disorder and confound any 
 good inventions. In regard whereof, as 
 also because the sports intended were 
 especially for honorable entertainment 
 of the Templarians, it was thought good 
 not to attempt anything of account, except 
 dancing and revelling with gentlewomen. 
 And after such sports a comedy of errors 
 (like to Plautus, his Menechmus,) was 
 played by the players. So that night 
 begun and continued to the end in nothing 
 but confusion and errors; whereupon, it 
 was afterwards called " The Night of 
 Errors." 
 
 This mischance was a great discourage- 
 ment and disparagement to the state of 
 Graya, and gave occasion to the lawyers 
 of the prince's council, on the next night 
 after the revels, to read a commission of 
 Oyer and Terminer, directing certain 
 noblemen and lords of his highness's 
 council to cause enquiry of the great dis- 
 orders and abuses done and committed, 
 and of certain sorceries, enchantments, 
 and witchcraft the night before, whereby 
 there were raised great hurley-burlies, 
 crowds, errors, confusions, vain repre- 
 sentations and shows, to the utter dis- 
 credit of the state, and to the great 
 damage of his highness's dominion of 
 Portpool. 
 
 The next night judgments were pre- 
 ferred by the officers of the crown, setting 
 forth that a certain sorcerer or conjurer, 
 then prisoner, had caused a stage to be 
 built, and certain scaffolds to be reared, 
 and expectations raised, and had also 
 caused divers ladies, gentlemen, and 
 others, of good condition, to be invited to 
 the sports, and they, and the state of Tem- 
 plaria, to be disgraced and disappointed, 
 by the bringing in of crowds, and the 
 foisting a company of base and common 
 fellows, to the confusion of the state, and 
 against the crown and dignity of his sove- 
 reign highness, the prince of Peerpoole. 
 
 Whereupon the prisoner so charged, 
 being arraigned at the bar, humbly 
 
341 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 19. 
 
 342 
 
 demeaned himself to the prince, and pre- 
 sented a petition, which was read by the 
 master of the requests, and set forth that 
 the attorney and solicitor, by means of 
 certain law-stulf, had confounded his 
 highness and the court, to believe that 
 those things which they saw and perceived 
 to have been in very deed done the night 
 before, were nothing else but fond illu- 
 sions, fancies, dreams, and enchantments; 
 and that tlie fault was in the negligence of 
 the prince's council and great officers of 
 state, by whose advice the state was mis- 
 governed; in proof whereof, he cited 
 instances, coupled with allegations not to 
 be denied. This was deemed a quick 
 boldness, and gave great offence to his 
 highness's government: but, in the end, 
 the prisoner was freed and pardoned, and 
 those that were concerned in the dratight 
 of the petition were committed to the 
 tower. The law sports of this night, in 
 the state of Graya, being thus ended, 
 consultation was forthwith held, for im- 
 mediate reform in the prince's council, 
 and it was concluded that graver councils 
 should take place, and good order be 
 maintained : to which end a watch and 
 ward was ordained at the four ports, with 
 whifflers under the four barons, and the 
 lord warden to oversee all, so that none 
 but of good quality might be admitted to 
 the court 
 
 On the 3rd of January, at night, there 
 was an honorable presence from the 
 court of her majesty, of great and noble 
 personages, who came by invitation to the 
 prince ; namely, the Eight Honorable, 
 the lord Keeper, the earls of Shrewsbury, 
 Cumberland, Northumberland, Southamp- 
 ton, and Essex ; the lords Bathurst, 
 Windsor, Mountjoy, Sheffield, Gompton, 
 Rich, Burleigh, Mounteagle, and the lord 
 Thomas Howard ; Sir Thomas Heneage, 
 Sir Robert Cecil, and a goodly number 
 of knights, ladies, and worshipful person- 
 ages; all of whom were disposed in 
 honorable and convenient places, to 
 their great liking and content. 
 
 When all were so placed, and settled 
 in right order, the prince entered with his 
 wonted state, and ascended his throne at 
 the high end of the hall, under his high- 
 ness's arms : after him came the ambassador 
 of Templaria, with his train likewise, and 
 was placed by the prince as he was before ; 
 bis train also had places particularly 
 assigned for them. Then, after variety of 
 music was presented this device : — 
 
 At the side of the hall, behind the 
 curtain, was erected an altar to the goddess 
 of Amity ; her arch-flamen stood ready to 
 attend the sacrifice and incense that 
 should, by her servants, be offered unto 
 her : round about sat nymphs and fairies 
 with instruments of music, and made 
 pleasant melody with viols and voices, in 
 praise of the goddess. 
 
 Then issued, from another room, the 
 first pair of friends, Theseus and Perithous, 
 arm in arm, and offered incense upon the 
 altar, which shone and burned very clear ; 
 which done, they departed. 
 
 There likewise came Achilles and Pa- 
 troclus ; after them, Pylades and Orestes ; 
 then Scipio and Lselius : and all these did 
 as the former, and departed. 
 
 Lastly came Grains and Templarius, 
 arm in arm, and lovingly, to the altar, 
 and offered their incense as the rest, but 
 the goddess did not accept of their service, 
 which appeared by the smoke and vapor 
 that choked the flame. Then the arch- 
 flamen preferred certain mystical cre- 
 monies and invocations, and caused the 
 nymphs to sing hymns of pacification to 
 the goddess, and then the flame burnt 
 more clear, and continued longer in 
 brightness and shining to Grains and 
 Templarius, than to any of those pairs of 
 friends that had gone before them ; and 
 so they departed. 
 
 Then the arch-flamen pronounced Grains 
 and Templarius to be as true and perfect 
 friends, and so familiarly united and linked 
 with the bond and league of sincere friend- 
 ship and amity, as ever were Theseus and 
 Perithous, Achilles and Patroolus, Py- 
 lades and Orestes, or Scipio and L^lius, 
 and did further divine that this love 
 should be perpetual. And, lastly, he 
 denounced any that should seek to break 
 or weaken the same, ana lui-etcld happi- 
 ness to their friends ; and, with swtet and 
 pleasant melody, the curtain was drawn 
 as at the first. 
 
 Thus was this show ended, which was 
 devised that those present might under- 
 stand that the unkindness which was 
 growipg betwixt the Templarians and the 
 Grayians, by reason of the former night 
 of errors, was clean rooted out and for- 
 gotten, and that they were more firm 
 friends than ever. 
 
 The prince then informed the ambas- 
 sador of Templaria that the show had 
 contented him exceedingly, because it 
 represented that their ancient amity was 
 so flourishing that nO friendship could 
 
343 
 
 Tim YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 19. 
 
 r)44 
 
 equal the love and goodwill of the Grayians 
 and Templarians. 
 
 Then his highness offered to the lord 
 ambassador, and certain of his retinue, 
 the knighthood of the he me and his 
 highness ordered his king at arms to place 
 the ambassador and his said followers, 
 and also some of his own court, that they 
 might receive the dignity ; which being 
 done, and the master of the jewels at- 
 tending with the collar of the order, the 
 prince descended from his chair of state, 
 and took the collar, and put it about the 
 lord ambassador's neck, he kneeling down 
 on his left knee, and said to him " Sois 
 Chivalerj" and the like to the rest, to the 
 number of twenty-four. 
 
 So the prince and the lord ambassador 
 took their places again, in their chairs ; 
 and the rest according to their condition. 
 
 Then Helmet, his highness's king at 
 arms, stood forth before the prince in his 
 surcoat of arms, and caused the trumpets 
 to sound, and made the followingspeech: — 
 
 " The most mighty and puissant prince, 
 Sir Henry, my gracious lord and sove- 
 reign prince of Peerpoole, &c. (setting 
 forth his title at length) hath heretofore, 
 for the special gracing of the nobility of 
 his realm, and honouring the deserts of 
 strangers, his favourites, instituted a most 
 honourable order of knighthood of the 
 HELMET, whereof his honour is sovereign, 
 in memory of the arms he beareth, wor- 
 thily given to one of his noble ancestors, 
 many years past, for saving the life of his 
 then sovereign ; in regard as the helmet 
 defendeth the chiefest part of the body, 
 the head, so did he guard and defend the 
 sacred person of the prince, the head of 
 the state. His highness at this time had 
 made choice of a number of virtuous and 
 noble personages, to admit them into his 
 honourable society ; whose good example 
 may be a spur and encouragement to the 
 young nobility of his dominions, to cause 
 them to aspire to the height of all honoui- 
 able deserts. To the honourable order 
 are annexed strict rules of arms, and civil 
 government, religiously to be observed 
 by all those that are admitted to this 
 dignity. You, therefore, most noble gen- 
 tlemen, whom his highness at this time 
 so greatly honoureth with his royal, order, 
 you must, every one of you, kiss your 
 helmet, and thereby promise and vow to 
 observe and practise, or otherwise, as the 
 case shall require, shun and avoid all 
 those constitutions and ordinances, which, 
 out of the records of my office of arms, 
 I shall read unto vou." 
 
 Then the king at arms took his book 
 and turned to the articles of the order, 
 and read them, the chief whereof folio weth, 
 
 " Imprimis. Every knight of this 
 honourable order, whether he be a na- 
 tural subject, or stranger born, shal 
 promise never to bear arms against his 
 highness's sacred person, nor his state, 
 but to assist him in all his lawful wars, 
 and maintain all his just pretences and 
 titles ; especially his highness's title to 
 the land of the Amazons, and the Cape 
 of Good Hope. 
 
 " Item. No knight of this order 
 shall, in point of honour, resort to any 
 grammar rules out of the books de 
 Duello, or such like, but shall, out of 
 his own brave mind" and natural cou- 
 rage, deliver himself from scorn, as to 
 his own discretion shall seemconvenient. 
 
 " Item. No • knight of this order 
 shall be inquisitive towards anyladyor 
 gentleman, whether her beauty be En- 
 glish or Italian, or whether with care- 
 taking she have added half-a-foot to her 
 stature ; but shall take all to the best. 
 Neither shall any knight of the afore- 
 said order presume to affirm that faces 
 were better twenty years ago than they 
 are at this present time, except such 
 knight shall, have passed three climac- 
 terical years. 
 
 " Item. Every knight of this order 
 is bound to perform all requisite and 
 manly service, as the case requireth, to 
 all ladies and gentlemen, beautiful by 
 nature or by art ; ever offering his aid 
 without any demand thereof; and, if in 
 case he fail so to do, he, shall be deemed 
 a match of disparagement to any of his 
 highness's widows, or wards, female; 
 and his excellency shall in justice for- 
 bear to make any tender of him to any 
 such ward or widow. 
 
 " Item. No knight of this order 
 shall procure any letters from his high- 
 ness to any widow or maid, for his 
 enablement and commendation to be 
 advanced to marriage ; but all preroga- 
 tive, wooing set apart, shall for ever 
 cease as to any of these knights, and 
 shall be left to the common laws of the 
 land, declared by the statute Quia elec- 
 tiones libertE esse deb,ent. 
 
 " Item. No knight of this honour- 
 able order, in case he shall grow into 
 decay, shall procure from his highness 
 relief and sustentation, any monopolies 
 or privileges ; except, only these kinds 
 following — that is to say, upon every 
 obacco-pipe n->t being one foot wide. 
 
345 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-^MARCIl 19. 
 
 upon every lock that is worn, not being 
 seven foot long, upon every health 
 that is drank, not being of a glass five 
 feet deep, &c. 
 
 " Item. No knight of this order 
 shall put out any money upon strange 
 returns, or performances to be made by 
 his own person ; as to hop up the stairs 
 to the top of St. Paul's, without inter- 
 mission, or any other such like agilities 
 or endurances, except it may appear 
 that the same performances or practices 
 do enable him to some service or em- 
 ployment, as if he do undertake to go 
 a journey backward, the same shall be 
 thought to enable him to be an ambas- 
 sador into Turkey. 
 
 " Item. No knight of this order 
 that hath had any license to travel into 
 foreign countries, be it by map, card, 
 sea, or land, and hath return>!d from 
 thence, shall presume, upon the warrant 
 of a traveller, to report any extraordi- 
 nary varieties ; as that he hath ridden 
 through Venice, on horse-back, post; 
 or that, in December, he sailed by the 
 cape of Norway ; or that he hath tra- 
 velled over most part of the countries 
 of Geneva; or such like hyperboles, 
 contrary to the statute, Propterea guod 
 qui diversos terrarum ambitus errant et 
 vagantur, &c. 
 
 " Item. Every knight of this order 
 shall do his endeavour to be much in 
 the books of the worshipful citizens of 
 the principal city next adjoining to the 
 territories of Feerpoole ; and none shall 
 unleamedly, or without looking, pay 
 ready money for any wares or other 
 things pertaining to the gallantness of 
 his honour's court, to the ill example of 
 others, and utter subversion of credit 
 betwixt man and man. 
 
 " Item. Every knight of this order 
 shall endeavour to add conference and 
 experience by reading; and therefore 
 shall not only read and peruse Guizo, 
 the French Academy, Galiatto the cour- 
 tier, Plutarch, the Arcadia, and the 
 Neoterical writers, from time to time ; 
 but also firequ'ent the Theatre, and such 
 like places of experience; and resort 
 to the better sort of ordinaries for con- 
 ference, whereby they may not only 
 become accomplished with civil con- 
 versations, and able to govern a table 
 with discourse, but also sufficient, if 
 need be, to make epigrams, emblems, 
 and other devices appertaining to his 
 honour's learned revels 
 
 346 
 
 "Item. No knight of tliis order, 
 in walking the streets or other place* 
 of resort, shall bear his hands in his 
 pockets of his great rolled hose, with 
 the Spanish wheel, if it be not either 
 to defend his hands from the cold, or 
 else to guard forty shillings steriing, 
 being in the same pockets. 
 
 " Item. No knight of this order 
 shall lay to pawn his collar of knight- 
 hood for a hundred pounds; and, if 
 he do, he shall be iptofacto discharged, 
 and it shall be lawful for any man 
 whatsoever, that will retain the same 
 collar for the sum aforesaid, forthwith 
 to take upon him the said knighthood, 
 by reason of a secret virtue in the collar ; 
 for in this order it is holden for a certain 
 rule that the knighthood followeth the 
 collar, and not the collar the knighthood. 
 "Lastly. All the knights of this 
 honourable order, and the renowned 
 sovereign of the same, shall yield all 
 homage, loyalty, unaffected admiration, 
 and all humble service, of what name 
 or condition soever, to the incompara- 
 ble empress of the Fortunate Island." 
 When the king at arms had read the 
 articles of the order of the knighthood, 
 and all had taken their places as before, 
 there was variety of concert-music : and 
 in the mean while the knights of the 
 order, who were not strangers, brought 
 into the hall a running banquet in very 
 good order, and gave it to the prince, and 
 lords, and others, strangers, in imitation of 
 the feast that belongeth to all such ho- 
 norable institutions. 
 
 This being done, there was a table set 
 in the midst of the stage, before the 
 prince's seat, and there sat six of the 
 lords of his privy council, who at that 
 time were appointed to attend in council 
 the prince's leisure. Then the prince 
 required them to advise him how he 
 should best qualify himself for his future 
 government, and each of them gave ad- 
 vice,- as appeareth elsewhere at length, 
 but in brief to the eflFect here set forth, — 
 The first counsellor advised war. 
 The second counsellor advised the 
 study of philosophy. 
 
 The third counsellor advised the gaining' 
 of fame by buildings and foundations. 
 
 The fourth counsellor advised absolute- 
 ness of state and treasure. 
 
 The fifth counsellor advised the practice 
 of virtue, and a gracious government. 
 
 The sixth counsellor advised to imme- 
 diate pastimes und sports. 
 
347 
 
 T«E YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 19. 
 
 348 
 
 The prince, being unresolved how to 
 determine amidst such variety of weighty 
 counsel,resolved meanwhile to make choice 
 of the last advice, and deliberate afterwards 
 upon the rest ; and he delivered a speech 
 to that effect, and then arose from his 
 speech to revel, and took a lady to dance 
 withal, as likewise did the lord ambas- 
 sador, and the pensioners and courtiers ; 
 so that the rest of the night was passed 
 in such pastimes, which, being carefully 
 conducted, did so delight the nobility 
 and other gentle visitors, that Graya reco- 
 vered its lost dignity, and was held in 
 greater honor than before. 
 
 Upon the following day, the prince, 
 attended by his courtiers, and accom- 
 panied by the ambassador of Templaria, 
 with his train, made a progress from his 
 court of Graya to the lord mayor's house, 
 called Crosby Place, in Bishopsgate 
 Street, whither he had been invited by his 
 lordship to dinner. His highness was 
 bravely mounted upon a rich foot-cloth; 
 the ambassador likewise riding near him ; 
 the gentlemen attending with the prince's 
 officers, and the ambassador's favourites 
 going before, and the others coming be- 
 hind the prince. Every one had his 
 feather in his cap, the Grayans using 
 while, and the Templarians using ash- 
 colored feathers. The prince's attend- 
 ants were to the number of fourscore, all 
 bravely appointed, and mounted on great 
 horses, with foot-cloths according to their 
 rank. Thus they rode very gallantly 
 from Gray's Inn, through Chancery Lane, 
 Fleet Street, and so through Cheapside 
 and Comhill, to Crosby Place, where was 
 a sumptuous and costly dinner for the 
 prince and all his attendants, with variety 
 of music and all good entertainment. 
 Dinner being ended, the prince and his 
 company revelled a while, and then re- 
 turned again in the same order as he went; 
 the streets being filled with people, who 
 thought there had been some great prince 
 in very deed passing through the city. 
 This popular show greatly pleased the 
 lord mayor and his commonalty, as well 
 as the great lords, and others of good con- 
 dition. 
 
 Shortly after this show the ambassador 
 of Templaria was gracefully recalled to 
 give an account of his mission, and was 
 honorably dismissed, and accompanied 
 nomeward by the nobles of Peerpoole. 
 
 The next grand night was upon Twelfth 
 
 Day, at night. When the hohourabla and 
 worshipful company of lords, ladies, and 
 knights, were, as at other times, assembled 
 and conveniently placed, accordingto their 
 condition ; and When the prince was en- 
 throned, and the trumpet had sounded, 
 there was presented a show concerning 
 his highness's state and authority, taken 
 from the device of the prince's arms, as 
 as they were blazoned in the beginning of 
 his reign, by his king at arms. 
 
 First, six knights of the helmet, and 
 three others attired like miscreants, whom, 
 on returning from Russia, they had sur- 
 prised and captured, for conspiracy against 
 his highness's government, but could not 
 prevail on them to disclose their names. 
 Then entered two goddesses, Virtue and 
 Amity, who informed the prince that the 
 captives were Envy, Malcontent, and 
 Folly, whose attempts against the state of 
 Graya had been frustrated by these god- 
 desses, who now willed the knights to 
 depart with the offenders. On their de- 
 parture. Virtue and Amity promised 
 support to his highness against all foes, 
 and departed to pleasant music. Then 
 entered the six knights in a stately masque, 
 and danced a newly devised measure; 
 and afterwards took to them divers ladies 
 and gentlemen, and danced the galliards, 
 and then departed with music. 
 
 Then to the sound of trumpets entered 
 the king at arms to the prince, and pro- 
 claimed the arrival of an ambassador from 
 the mighty emperor of Russia and Mus- 
 covy, on weighty affairs of state. And, 
 by order of the prince, the ambassador 
 was admitted, and he came in the attire 
 of Russia, with two of his own country 
 in like habits, and, making his obeisance, 
 humbly delivered his letters of credence 
 to the prince, who caused them to be read 
 aloud by the king at arms ; and then the 
 ambassEidor made his speech to the prince, 
 soliciting, on behalf of his sovereign, 
 succor from the state of Graya, against 
 the Tartars, and announcing the entrance 
 of a ship richly laden, as- a present to the 
 prince. To which speech his highness 
 vouchsafed a princely answer; and, the 
 ambassador being placed in a chair near 
 the throne, there was served up a running 
 banquet to the prince, and the lords and 
 ladies, and the company present, with 
 variety of music. 
 
 Then entered a postboy with letters of 
 iritelligence concerning the state, from 
 divers parts of his highness's provinces, 
 and delivered them to the secretary, who 
 
34» 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK—MARCH 19 
 
 made the prince acquainted therewith, and 
 caused them to be read openly and pub- 
 licly. The first letter, from the canton of 
 Knightsbridge, complained that certain 
 foreigners took goods by force. The 
 second letter, from sea, directed to the 
 lord high admiral, advised of an invasion of 
 Peerpoole by an armada of amazons; 
 also letters from Stapulia and Bernardia, 
 and Low Holborn, informed of plots and 
 rebellion, and insurrection in those parts. 
 After these lettei-s were read, the prince 
 made a long speech, complaining of the 
 cares of his government, and appointed 
 certain lords to suppress these disorders, 
 and then declared his intention of going 
 to Russia. Then, at the end of his 
 speech, the prince, for his farewell, took a 
 lady to dance, and the rest of the courtiers 
 consorted with ladies, and danced in like 
 manner; and, when the revel was finished, 
 the prince departed on his journey to 
 Russia, and the court broke up. 
 
 His highness remained in Russia until 
 Candlemas, and after glorious conquests, 
 of which his subjects were advised, they 
 purposed to prepare for him a triumphant 
 reception when he should return. But 
 these good intentions were frustrated by 
 the readers and ancients, who (on account 
 of the term) had caused the scaflbld in 
 the hall (of Grays Inn) to be taken away 
 and enjoined that they should not be 
 rebuilt. Yet, notwithstanding this dis- 
 comfiture, order was taken by the prince's 
 faithful adherents to make his arrival 
 known, by an ingenious device as fol- 
 loweth : — 
 
 Upon the 28th of January, the readers 
 and all the society of the Inn being seated 
 at dinner in the hall, there suddenly 
 sounded a trumpet, and, after the third 
 blast, the king at arms entered in the 
 midst and proclaimed the style and title 
 of his sovereign lord Sir Henry, the right 
 excellent and all-conquering Prince of 
 Portpoole, and in his highness's name 
 commanded all his officers, knights, pen- 
 sioners, and subjects to attend his person 
 at his port of Blackwallia on the first of 
 February, there to perform all offices of 
 obedience and subjection as became their 
 loyalty to so gracious a sovereign. 
 
 When the coming of the prince from 
 Russia was thus noised abroad, and it 
 became known that his highness would 
 come up the Thames by Greenwich, where 
 the queen (Elizabeth) then held her court, 
 it was expected that his highness would 
 
 350 
 
 land there and do homage to her majesty 
 of England, and the rather because in 
 Christmas there was expectation of his 
 going thither to o£Fer some pastime, which 
 he had not done. 
 
 Upon the first of February the prince 
 and his train camfe in gallant show upon 
 the river Thames, and were met at Black- 
 wall, where, being so near his own terri- 
 tories, he quitted his navy of ships and 
 went with his retinue on board fifteen 
 barges gallantly furnished with standards, 
 pendants, flags, and streamers. Every 
 barge had music and trumpets, and others 
 ordnance and ammunition; and thus 
 bravely appointed they proceeded towards 
 the stairs at Greenwich, where the ord- 
 nance was discharged, and the whole fleet 
 sailed round about ; and the second time, 
 when the admiral, in which the prince 
 was, came directly before the court stairs, 
 his highnessdespatched two gentlemen with 
 the following letter to Sir Thomas Heneage, 
 then there with her majesty, 
 " Henry, Prince of Portpoole, to the Right 
 
 Honourable Sir Thomas Heneage, 
 " Most Honourable Knight, 
 
 " I have now accomplished 
 a most tedious and hazardous journey, 
 though very honourable, into Russia, and 
 returning within the view of the court of 
 your renowned queen, my gracious sove- 
 reign, to whom I acknowledge homage 
 and service, I thought good, in passing 
 by, to kiss her sacred hands, as a tender 
 of the zeal and duty I owe unto her ma- 
 jesty; but, in making the offer, I found 
 my desire was greater than the ability of 
 my body, which, by length of my journey 
 and my sickness at sea, is so weakened, 
 as it were very dangerous forme to adven- 
 ture it. Therefore, most honourable 
 friend, let me entreat you to make my 
 humble excuse to her majesty for this 
 
 ? resent : and to certify her highness that 
 do hope, by the assistance of the divine 
 providence, to recover my former strength 
 about Shrovetide ; at which time I intend 
 to repair to her majesty's court (if it may 
 stand with her gracious pleasure), to offer 
 my service, and relate the success of my 
 journey. And so praying your honour to 
 return me her majesty's answer, I wish 
 you all honour and happiness. 
 " Dated from ship-board. 
 
 At our Ark of Vanity, 
 
 The 1st of'February, 1594." 
 The letter being delivered and her ma- 
 jesty made acquainted with the contents. 
 
351 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 19. 
 
 352 
 
 she graciously observed of his highness, 
 " That, if the letter had not excused his 
 passing by, he should have done homage 
 before he had gone away, although he had 
 been a greater prince than he was : yet," 
 she said, "she liked his gallant shows, 
 that were made at his triumphant return ;" 
 and added, " if he should come at Shrove- 
 tide, he and his followers should have 
 entertainment according to his dignity." 
 
 The prince and his company continued 
 their course to the Tower, where, by the 
 queen's command, he was welcomed with 
 a volley of great ordnance by the lieutenant 
 of the Tower: and, at Tower Hill, his 
 highness's landing was awaited by men 
 with 100 choice and great horses, gallantly 
 appointed for all the company. So the 
 prince and his company mounted, each of 
 nis retinue being in order according to 
 his office, with the ensign thereof; . and 
 they rode gallantly through Tower Street, 
 Fenchurch Street, Gracechurch Street, 
 Cornhill, and St. Paul's church-yard, 
 where, at St. Paul's school, one of the 
 scholars entertained his highness with a 
 Latin oration (as set forth in the prince's 
 history), and the prince rewarded the 
 speaker bountifully, and thanked all the 
 scholars for their goodwill, and marched 
 on his way by Ludgate and through Fleet 
 Street, where, as during the entire pro- 
 gress, the streets were so thronged with 
 people that there was only room for the 
 horsemen to pass. In this state his 
 highness arrived at Gray's Inn, where he 
 was received with a peal of ordnance and 
 sound of trumpets, and all the entertain- 
 ment that his loving subjects could make. 
 
 After the prince had been thus received, 
 and supper ended, his highness entered 
 the hall and danced and revelled among 
 the nobles of his court. 
 
 In like manner the day following was 
 spent, butthere was no performance because 
 of the want of the stage and scaffolds. 
 
 At shrove-tide, the prince, in discharge 
 of his promise, went with his nobles 
 to the court of her majesty (queen Eliza- 
 beth), and represented certain sports, con- 
 sisting of a masque in which the chief 
 characters were an esquire of his highness's 
 company attended by a Tartarian page ; 
 Proteus, a sea-god, attended by two 
 Tritons ; Thamesis and Amphitrite, at- 
 tended by their sea-nymphs. These cha- 
 racters having delivered speeches, Proteus 
 struck a rock of adamant with his trident, 
 and they all entered the roclit and then 
 
 the prince and seven knig:hts issued from 
 the rock, richly attired, in couples, and 
 before every couple there were two pigmies 
 with torches. On their first coming on the 
 stage, they danced a newly devised mea- 
 sure, and then took ladies, and with them 
 they danced galliards, courants, and other 
 dances. Afterwards they danced another 
 new measure, at the end whereof, the 
 pigmies brought eight escutcheons with 
 the masker's devices thereon, and delivered 
 them to the esquire, who offered them to 
 her majesty ; which being done, they took 
 their order again, and, with a new strain, 
 went all into the rock ; and there was sung 
 at their departure into the rock another 
 strain, in compliment to her majesty. 
 
 It was the queen's pleasure to be 
 gracious to every one, and her majesty 
 particularly thanked his highness the 
 prince of Peerpoole for the good perform- 
 ance, with undoubted wishes that the 
 sports had continued longer; insomuch, 
 that, when the courtiers danced a measure 
 immediately after the masque ended, the 
 queen said, "What! shall we have bread 
 and cheese after a banquet ?" 
 
 The queen having willed her lord 
 chamberlain that the gentlemen should be 
 invited on the next day, and that he should 
 present them unto her; this was doiie, and 
 her majesty gave them her hand to kiss 
 with gracious commendations in general, 
 and of Grays Inn, as a house she was 
 much beholden unto, because it always 
 studied for sports to present unto her. 
 
 On the same night there was.fighting at 
 the barriers ; the earl of Essex and others 
 being the challengers, and the earl of 
 Cumberland and his company the de- 
 fenders ; — into which company the prince 
 of Peerpoole was taken, and behaved so 
 valiantly, that to him was adjudged the 
 prize, which was a jewel set with seventeen 
 diamonds and four rubies, and worth 100 
 marks. Her majesty delivered it to his 
 highness with her own hands, saying " That 
 it was not her gift, for if it had, it should 
 have been better ; but she gave it to him 
 as that prize which was due to his desert 
 and good behaviour in those exercises; 
 and that hereafter he should be remem- 
 bered with a better reward from herself." 
 
 And thus, on Shrove Tuesday, the 
 sports and revels of Gray's Inn, and the 
 reign «f the mock prince, were ended at 
 the court of her majesty queen Elizabeth. 
 
353 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 1!) 
 
 'il''*''-^;. 
 
 35-} 
 
 ^fc&CX^^~ 
 
 CHILDREN 
 
 Oft when the steep bank floats the southern sky. 
 By lanes or brooks where sunbeams love to lie, 
 A cowslip-peep will open, faintly coy. 
 Soon seen and gathered by a wandering boy. 
 
 The infant in arms makes known its 
 desiie for fresh air, by restlessness; it 
 cries— ^for it cannot speak its want, — is 
 taken abroad, and is quiet. 
 
 All children love to " go out : " they 
 prefer the grass to the footpath ; and to 
 wander, instead of to " walk as they ought 
 to do." They feel that 
 
 God made the country, and man made the town. 
 
 While they are conducted along the road, 
 their great anxiety is to leave it. — " When 
 shall we get into the fields ? " 
 
 They seek after some new thing, and 
 convert what they find to thpir own use. 
 A stick, placed between the legs, makes 
 a horse ; a wisp of grass, or a stone, drawn 
 along at the end of a string, is a cart. On 
 the sides of banks, and in green lanes, 
 they see the daily issues from the great 
 treasury of the earth, — opening buds, 
 new flowers, surprising insects. They 
 come home laden with unheard-of curi- 
 osities, wonderful rarities of their new- 
 found world ; and tell of their being met 
 
 Vol.. I.— 12 
 
 Clare. 
 
 by ladies whom they iidrAired, and who 
 spoke to them. 
 
 As children increase in years they pro- 
 ceed from particulars to generals — observe 
 the weather, sun-rising and sun-setting, 
 the changing forms df clouds, varied 
 scenery, difference of character in persons. 
 In a short time they know so much as to 
 think they know enough. They enter 
 upon life, and find experience — the school- 
 master is always at home. 
 
 In manhood the instincts of child- 
 hood, recollections of our old love, return . 
 We would throw ourselves upon the 
 bosom of Nature — but we are weaned. 
 
 We cannot jee her as we did : yel 
 
 we recall, and keep representations of her 
 features ; throw landscapes and forests 
 into portfolios, and place Claudes and 
 Poussins in our rooms. We turn from 
 nature herself to look at painted shadows of 
 her ; and behold pictures of graceful human 
 forms till we dream of human perfection 
 and of our beings still, "a little lower 
 than the angels - 
 
 N 
 
335 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-^MARCII 20. 
 
 356 
 
 [Original.] 
 TO C. ADERS, ESQ. 
 On his Collection of Paintings by the old German Masters. 
 Friendliest of men, Aders, I never come 
 Within the precincts of this sacred Room, 
 But I am struck witn a religious fear. 
 Which says " Let no profane eye enter here.' , 
 With imagery from Heav'n the walls are clothed, 
 Making the things of Time seem vile and loavhed. 
 Spare Saints, whose bodies seem sustain'd by Love 
 With Martyrs old in meek procession move. 
 Here kneels a weeping Magdalen, less bright 
 To human sense for her blurr'd cheeks ; in sight 
 Of eyes, new-touch'd by Heav'n, more winning fair 
 Than when her beauty was her only care. 
 A Hermit here strange mysteries doth unlock 
 In desart sole, his knees worn by the rock. 
 There Angel harps are sounding, while below 
 Palm-bearing Virgins in white order go. 
 Madonnas, varied with so chaste design, 
 While all are different, each seems genuine, 
 And hers the only Jesus : hard outline. 
 And rigid form, by Durer's hand subdued 
 To matchless grace, and sacro-sanctitude ; 
 DuRER, who makes thy slighted Germany 
 Vie with tlie praise of paint-proud Italy. 
 
 Whoever enter'st here, no more presume - 
 To name a Parlour, or a Drawin'^ Room ; 
 But, bending lowly to each holy Story, 
 Make this thy Chapel, and thine Oratory. 
 
 C. LAMB. 
 
 ICtatct) 20. 
 
 Good Friday 
 
 Is the Friday before Easter. Anciently 
 it was a custom with the kings of Eng- 
 land on Good Friday to hallow, with 
 great ceremony, certain rings, the wear- 
 ing of which was believed to prevent 
 the falling-sickness. The custom origin- 
 ated from a ring, long preserved with 
 great veneration in Westminster Abbey, 
 which was reported to have been brought 
 to K'.ng Edward by some persons 
 coming from Jerusalem, and which he 
 himself had long before given privately 
 to a poor person, who had asked alms of 
 him for the love he bare to St. John the 
 Evangelist. The rings consecrated by 
 the sovereigns were called "cramp-rings," 
 and there was a particular service for their 
 consecration. Andrew Boorde, in his 
 Bi'eviary of Health, 1557, speaking of the 
 cramp, says—" The kynge's Majestic hath 
 a great helpe in this matter in halowing 
 Crampe Ringes, and so geven without 
 
 money or petition.'' Lord Berners, the 
 translator of Froissart, wncn ambassador 
 to the Emperor Charles V., wrote from 
 Saragoza "to my Lorde Cardinall's grace," 
 in 1518, for " some crampe ryngs," with 
 " trust to bestowe thaym well, with God's 
 grace" * 
 
 In illustration of the custom of "making 
 the sepulchre" at Easter, there is this pas- 
 sage towards the end of a sermon preacli- 
 ed by Bishop Longland before king Henry 
 VIII. on Good Friday 1538:—" In meane 
 season I shall exhorte you all in our Lord 
 God, as of old ciistome hath here this day 
 bene used, every one of you or ye departe, 
 with moost entire devoeyon, knelynge to 
 fore our Savyour Lorde God, this our 
 Jesus Chryst, whiche has suffered soo 
 muche for us, to whome we are soo muche 
 bounden, whoo lyeth in yonder sepulchre ; 
 in honouTe of hym, of his ^assyon and 
 
 • Brand. 
 
357 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 21. 
 
 3aR 
 
 deathe, and of his five woundes, to say 
 five Patet-iiosteis, five Aves, and one Ende, 
 that it may please his mercifull 'goodness 
 to make us parteners of the merites of this 
 his most gloryous passyon, bloode, and 
 deatlie." 
 
 Of the remarkable usages on Good Fri- 
 day there are large accounts in the Every- 
 Day Book, not forgetting hot-cross-buns. 
 They still continue to be made, and cried 
 about the streets, as usual, though certain- 
 ly in less quantities than can be well re- 
 membered. 
 
 A provincial newspaper, of about the 
 year 1810, contains the following para- 
 graph : — " Good-Friday was observed with 
 die most profound adoration on board the 
 Portuguese and Spanish men of war at 
 Plymouth. A figure of the traitor Judas 
 Iscariot was suspended from the bowsprit 
 end of each ship, which hung till sun-set, 
 when it was cut down, ripped up, the re- 
 presentation of the heart cut in stripes, 
 and the whole thrown into the water ; 
 after which the crews of the different ships 
 sung in good style the evening song to the 
 Virgin Mary. On board the Iphigenia 
 Spanish frigate, the effigy of Judas Isca- 
 riot hung at the yard-arm till Sunday 
 eveiung, and, when it was cut down, one .of 
 the seamen ventured to jump over after 
 it, with a knife in his hand, to show his 
 indignation of the traitor's crime by rip- 
 ping up the figure in the sea ; but the un- 
 ortunate man paid for his indiscreet zeal 
 with his life ; the tide drew him under the 
 ship, and he was drowned." 
 
 h. m« 
 March 20. Day breaks . . 4 
 
 Sun rises ... 5 58 
 — sets .... 6 2 
 Twilight ends . . 7 58 
 Dog-violet flowers. Dr. Forster ima- 
 gines that Milton refers to this species 
 when he speaks of " violet embroidered 
 vales." 
 
 mnvot 21. 
 
 Earl of Totness. 
 
 George Carew, Earl of Totness, who 
 died at the age of seventy-three, in 
 March, 1629, was the son of a dean of 
 Exeter, and received his education at 
 Oxford. His active spirit led him from 
 his studies into the army ; but, in 1589, 
 
 he was created master of art.i. The 
 scene of his military exploits was 
 Ireland, where, in the year 1599, he 
 was president of Munster. With a small 
 force he reduced a great part of the pro- 
 vince to the government of Queen Eliza- 
 beth, took the titular Earl of Desmond 
 prisoner, and brought numbers of the 
 turbulent Septs to obedience. The queen 
 honored him with a letter of thanks under 
 her own hand. He left the province in 
 general peace in 1603, and arrived in 
 England three days before the queen's 
 death. James I. rewarded his service by 
 making him governor of Guernsey, cre- 
 ating him Lord Carew, of Clopton, and 
 appointing him master of the ordnance 
 for life. Charles I., on his accession, 
 created him Earl, of Totness. He was 
 not less distinguished by his pen than his 
 sword. In his book " Pacata Hibernia," 
 he wrote his own commentaries, of which 
 his modesty prevented the publication 
 during life. He collected four volumes 
 of Antiquities relating to Ireland, at this 
 time preserved unheeded in the Bodleian 
 Library, and collected materials foi the 
 life of Henry V., digested by Speed, into 
 his Chronicle. Anthony Wood eulogizef 
 him as " a faithful subject, a valiant and 
 prudent commander, an honest coun- 
 sellor, a gentle scholar, a lover of anti- 
 quities, and great patron of learning." 
 He lies interred beneath a. magnificent 
 monument at Stratford upon Avon.* 
 
 Batcheloeising. 
 
 In March, 1798, died, aged eighty-four, 
 at his house in the neighbourhood, of 
 Kentish Town,' where he had resided 
 more than forty years, John Little, Esq. 
 His life exemplified the little utility of 
 money in possession of such a man. A 
 few days before his death the physician 
 who attended upon him advised that he 
 should occasionally drink a glass of 
 wine. After much persuasion he was 
 induced to comply ; yet by no means 
 would entrust even his housekeeper with 
 the key of the cellar. He insisted ou 
 being carried to the cellar door, and, on 
 its being opened, he in person delivered 
 out one bottle. By his removal for that 
 purpose from a warm bed into a dark 
 humid vault, he was seized with a shiver- 
 ing fit, which terminated in an apoplectic 
 stroke, and occasioned his death. He 
 
 * Pennant. 
 
 N 3 
 
359 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 22. 
 
 360 
 
 had an inveterate antipathy to the mar- 
 riage state, and discarded his brother, the 
 only relative he had, for not continuing 
 like himself, a bachelor. On examining 
 his eifects, it appeared that he had 
 £25,000 in different tontines, £11,000 in 
 the four per cents., and £2000 in landed 
 property. In a room which had been 
 closed for fourteen years vfere found 
 irS pairs of breeches, and a numerous 
 collection of other articles of wearing 
 apparel, besides 180 wigs hoarded in his 
 coach-house, all which had fallen to him 
 with other property by the bequest of 
 relations. All his worldly wealth fell to 
 the possession of his offending brother.* 
 
 A man need to care for no more know- 
 ledge than to know himself, no more 
 pleasure than to content himself, no more 
 victory than to overcome himself, no 
 more riches than to enjoy himself. — Bp. 
 HaU. 
 
 customs at Easter, the practice of stonmg 
 Jews ill Lent" is stated at some length. 
 It may be added, as an historical fact, 
 that the people of Paris were accustomed, 
 during Holy Week and on Easter-day, 
 to pursue the Jews through the streets 
 with stones, and to break the doors and 
 windows of their houses. In some pro- 
 vincial towns it was the practice on holi- 
 days to conduct a Jew to the church, and 
 publicly beat him on the face. An old 
 chronicler relates that, Aimeric Viscount 
 de Rochechouard having visited Toulouse, 
 the chapter of St. Etienne, in order to do 
 him honor, appointed Hugnes, his chap- 
 lain, to beat a Jew, according to annual 
 custom at the Easter festival. Hugues 
 performed the office so zealously, that the 
 brains and eyes of the unhappy victim 
 of intolerance fell upon the ground, and 
 he expired upon the spot.* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 March 2 1 . Daiy breaks . . 3 59 
 
 Sun rises .... 5 56 
 
 — sets .... 6 4 
 
 Twilight ends ..61 
 
 Blue honndstongue in full flower. 
 
 Lesser petty chaps sings. 
 
 Mavcti 22. 
 
 Easter. 
 
 The time of keeping Easter in England 
 is according to the rule laid down in the 
 Book of Common Prayer, which it may 
 be here proper to re-state. — " Easter-Day 
 (on which the movable feasts depend) 
 is always the first Sunday after the full 
 moon which happens upon, or next after 
 the twenty-first day of March; and, if the 
 full moon happens upon a Sunday, 
 Easter-day is the Sunday after." In con- 
 formity, therefore, to this rule, if the 
 21st of March falls upon a Saturday, and 
 a fiill moon happen upon that day, the 
 next day, Sunday, the 22nd of March, 
 must be Easter-day. It will be observed, 
 therefore, that Easter day can never occur 
 earlier than the 22nd of March. 
 
 Among the abundant information in 
 ti^e Eve>y-Da»/ Book concerning former 
 
 The Fikst Easter. 
 
 It happen'd, on a solemn even-tide. 
 Soon after He that was our surety died. 
 Two bosom friends, each pensively inclinM, 
 The scene of all those sorrows left behind. 
 Sought their own village, busied, as they went. 
 In musings -worthy of the great event ; 
 They spaXe of him they lovM, of him whose 
 
 life. 
 Though blameless, had incurr'd per etual 
 
 strife, 
 Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts, 
 A deep memorial graven on their hearts. 
 The recollection, like a vein of ore. 
 The farther trac'd, enrich'd them still the 
 
 more ; 
 They thought him, and they justly thought 
 
 him, one 
 Sent to do more than he appeared to have 
 
 done; 
 To exalt a people and to make them high 
 Above all else, and wonderM he should die. 
 Ere yet they brought their journey -to an end, 
 A stranger joinM them, courteous as a friend, 
 And ask'd them, with a kind engaging air, 
 What their affliction was, and begg'd a share. 
 Informed, he gathered up the broken thread, 
 And, truth and vrisdom gracing all he said. 
 Explain 'd, illustrated, and search'd so well. 
 The tender^ theme on which they chose to 
 
 dwell. 
 That reaching home, the night, they said, is 
 
 near. 
 We must not now be parted, sojourn here,' — 
 The new acquaintance soon became a guest. 
 And made so welcome at their simple feast, 
 He bless'd the bread, but vanish'd at the word, 
 
 • Gents. Mag. 
 
 History o.« Paris, iii. 256. 
 
361 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAUGII 23, 24. 
 
 362 
 
 .And left them both exdaimingi 'Twas the 
 
 Lord! 
 Sid not OUT hearts feel all he deign'd to say ? 
 Did they not bum within us by the way 1 
 
 owper. 
 
 - 
 
 h. m. 
 
 March 22. Day breaks . . 
 
 3 57 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 5 54 
 
 — sets .... 
 
 6 6 
 
 - Twilight ends . . 
 
 8 3 
 
 Crown imperial flowers. 
 
 
 Marsh marygold flowers. 
 
 
 Pilewort, with its stars of bright golden 
 
 yellow, bespangles the lawns and 
 
 glades 
 
 marct) 23. 
 
 
 Easter Monday. 
 
 
 To the full accounts in the Euery-Day 
 Book of the celebration of Easter Mon- 
 day and Tuesday, and the Easter holidays, 
 in ancient and modem times, there is not 
 anything of interest to add, unless this 
 may be an exception — that there is a cus- 
 tom at this season, which yet prevails in 
 Kent, with young people to go out holi- 
 day-making in public-houses to eat " pud- 
 ding-pies," and this is called "going a 
 puddmg-pieing.'' The pudding-pies are 
 from the size of a tea-cup to that of a 
 small tea-saucer. They are flat, like pastry- 
 cooks' cheese-cakes, made with a raised 
 crust, to hold a small quantity of custard, 
 with currants lightly sprinkled on the sur- 
 face. Pudding-pies and cherry beer 
 usually go together at these feasts. From 
 the inns down the road towards Canter- 
 bury, they are frequently brought out to 
 the coach travellers with an invitation to 
 " taste the pudding-pies." The origin of 
 the custom, and even its existence, seem 
 to have escaped archaeological notice. It 
 is not mentioned by Hasted. 
 
 March 23. Day breaks . . 3 55 
 
 Sun rises ... 5 52 
 
 — sets .... 6 8 
 
 Twilight ends ..85 
 
 Yellow star of Bethlehem flowers. 
 
 Mav^ 24. 
 
 On the 24th of March, 1603, queen 
 Elizabeth died at Richmond Palace, in 
 the seventieth year of her age, and the 
 forty-fifth of her reign. She had been 
 raised from a prison to a throne, which 
 
 she filled with a dignity peculiar to he' 
 character, and a sufliciency that honored 
 her sex. She completed the reformation, 
 restored the coin of the realm to its just 
 value, settled the state of the kingdom, 
 and lived, in the affections of the people, 
 a terror to Europe. It was her poHcy to 
 select ministers of great ability and ad- 
 dress, by whom, so great was her know- 
 ledge and penetration, she never suffered 
 herself to be overruled. 
 
 Dress, temp. Elizabeth. 
 
 We are informed by Hentzner, that the 
 English, in the reign of Elizabeth, cut the 
 hair close on the middle of the head, but ' 
 sufiered it to grow on either side. 
 
 As it is usual in dress, as in other 
 things, to pass from one extreme to 
 another, the large jutting coat became 
 quite out of fashion in this reign, and a 
 coat was worn resembling a waistcoat. 
 
 The men's ruffs were generally of a 
 moderate size; the women's bore a pro- 
 portion to their farthingales, which were 
 enormous. 
 
 We are informed that some beaux had 
 actually introduced long swords and high 
 ruffs, which approached the royal standard. 
 This roused the jealousy of the queen, 
 who appointed officers to break every 
 man's sword, and to clip all rufis which 
 were beyond a certain length. 
 
 The breeches, or, to speak more pro- 
 perly, drawers, fell far short of the knees, 
 and the defect was supplied with long 
 hose, the tops of which were fastened 
 under the drawers. 
 
 William, earl of Pembroke, was the 
 first who wore knit stockings in, England, 
 which were introduced in this reign. 
 They were presented to him by William 
 Rider, an apprentice near London Bridge, 
 who happened to see a pair brought from 
 Mantua, at an Italian merchant's in the 
 city, and made a pair exactly like them. 
 
 Edward Vere, the seventeenth earl of 
 Oxford, was the first that introduced em- 
 broidered gloves and perfumes into E nor- 
 land, which he brought from Italy. He 
 presented the queen with o pair of per- 
 fumed gloves, and her portrait was 
 painted with them upon her hands. 
 
 At this period was worn a hat with a 
 broad brim, and a high crown, diminish- 
 ing conically upwards. In a print of 
 Philip II., in the former reign, he seems 
 to wear one of these, with a narrower 
 brim than ordinary, and makes at least 
 
363 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 24. 
 
 3f4 
 
 as grotesque an appearance, as his coun- 
 tryman Don Quisrate vfith the barber's 
 bason. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. John More, of Norwich, 
 one of the worthiest clergymen in the 
 reign of Elizabeth, gave the best reason 
 that could b& given for wearing the 
 longest and largest beard of any English- 
 man of his time ; namely, " that no act 
 of his life might bo unworthy of the 
 gravity of his appearance." Mr. Granger 
 wishes that as good a reason could always 
 have been assigned for wearing the longest 
 hair and the longest or largest wig. 
 
 It was ordered, in the first year of 
 Elizabeth, that no fellow of Lincoln's 
 Inn " should wear any beard of above a 
 fortnight's growth." 
 
 As the -queen left no less than 3000 
 different habits in her wardrobe when she 
 died, and was possessed of the dresses of 
 all countries, it is somewhat strange that 
 there is such a uniformity of dress in her 
 portraits, and that she should take a 
 pleasure in being loaded with ornaments. 
 
 At this time the stays, or boddice, 
 were worn long-waisted. Lady Hunsdon, 
 the foremost of the ladies in the engraving 
 of the procession" to Hunsdon House, ap- 
 pears with a much longer waist than those 
 that follow her. She might possibly 
 have been a leader of tjje fashion, as well 
 as of the procession. 
 
 Beneath an engraved portrait on 
 wood of queen Elizabeth in Benlowe's 
 "Theophila, or Love's Sacrifice, 1652," 
 a e these lines : — 
 
 ' Shpfi was, shee is, what can tliere more be 
 
 said ? . 
 In earth the first, in heaven the seeond maid." 
 
 Theophilus Cibber says these lines were 
 an epigram by Budgell upon the deatli 
 of a very fine "young woman : tliey are 
 the last verses of an inscription mentioned, 
 in the " View of London, 1708," to have 
 been on a cenoiaph of queen Elizabeth 
 in Bow church. 
 
 A proclamation, dated 1563, in the 
 hand-writing of secretary Cecil, prohibits 
 " all manner of persons to draw, paynt, 
 grave, or pourtrayit her majesty's per- 
 sonage or visage for a time, until, by some 
 perfect patron and example, the same 
 may be by others followed, &c., and for 
 that hir majestic perceiveth that a gi-ete 
 nombcr of hir loving subjects are much 
 greved and take grete offence with the 
 errors and deformities allrtdy committed 
 
 y sondry persons in this behalf, she 
 straightly chargeth all hir officers and 
 ministers to see to the due observation 
 hereof, and as soon as may be to reform 
 the errors already committed, &c." 
 
 In Walpole's " Catalogue of Royal 
 and Noble Authors," there is a curious 
 head of queen Elizabeth, when old and 
 haggard, done with great exactness from 
 a coin, the die of which was broken. A 
 striking feature in the queen's face was 
 her high nose, which is not justly re- 
 presented in many pictures and prints 
 of her. She was notoriously vain of her 
 personal charms, and, affirming that 
 shadows were unnatural in painting, she 
 ordered Isaac- Oliver to paint her without 
 any. There are three engravings of her 
 after this artist, two by Vertue, and <jn ea 
 whole length by Crispin de Pass, who 
 published portraits of illustrious persons 
 of this kingdom from the year 1500 to 
 the beginning of the seventeenth century.* 
 
 A STRANGE COMPLAIKT. 
 
 A medical gentleman, in the neighbour- 
 hood of Leeds, received the following 
 letter from one of his patients : 
 " Snr, 
 " 1 weesh yew wood koom an see me — I 
 av got a bad kould — eel in my Bow h-'U — 
 an av lost my Happy tide. ' ' 
 " Sur, 
 " Yer umbel Sarvent.'' 
 
 
 'h. m. 
 
 \arch 24 Day breaks . 
 
 .. 3 52 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 5 50 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 . 6 10 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 8 8 
 
 Red ndttle flowers. 
 
 
 A DAY IN SPRING. 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 January 20, 1831. 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I am one of those who try to find 
 "sermons in stones, and good in every 
 thing," and, from a long-continued indul- 
 gence in this whim, my head has become 
 a regular hold of " commou-places, " and 
 a tolerably complete verbal concordance. 
 The bare mention of a name will lead 
 oftentimes to a chain of thoughts that 
 
 * Granger- 
 
365 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 24. 
 
 366 
 
 might almost compass the world ; and the 
 most trifling incident awaken associations 
 v^hich if carried out into all their ramifi- 
 cation.'' would furnish materials for a 
 twelvemonth's meditation. 
 
 This propensity forms my constant 
 " consolation in travel," and, wherever I 
 may direct my wanderings, I am sure to 
 find many sources of pleasure opening 
 before me, which arise either directly or 
 indirectly from the scenes through which 
 I pass. To illustrate my meaning I have 
 subjoined a few remarks connected with 
 a short journey undertaken in the spring 
 of last year, at which enchanting season, 
 having obtained a temporary respite from 
 the fatigues of the counting-house,! secured 
 a place by one of the Maidstone coaches, 
 and started in high spirits. 
 
 Many of your readers may smile at the 
 idea of such a " (Jroniftgl" as I have 
 here " contpilit," but, as the whole scene is 
 laid within a reasonable distance of this 
 mighty metropolis, I dare say some may 
 be found who will thank you for its in- 
 sertion. 
 
 It is not easy for a mind perpetually 
 harassed to throw o£f its fetters instan- 
 taneously, and for this reason I suppose 
 it was that I made no note of my proceed- 
 ings till I was fairly out of sight of Lon- 
 don. But the clear sunshine and the 
 deep blue heavens, studded with masses of 
 cloud, in brightness approaching to molten 
 silver, soon exercised their witchery upon 
 me, and forgetting the perplexities of life, 
 amidst the gentle scenery by which I was 
 surrounded, I first "came to myself on 
 the brink of a little hollow scooped like 
 that of Cowper, by Kilwick's echoing 
 wood, 
 
 —I judge in ancient time^ 
 For baking earth, or binning rock to lime. 
 
 A small mud-walled cottage, partially 
 white-washed, stood at the bottom, upon a 
 little plot of chalky ground, part of 
 which had been fenced about and planted 
 with cabbages and potatoes; and just at 
 the foot of a tall perpendicular cliff, on a 
 small round grassy hill, the verdure of 
 which grew more and more scanty towards 
 its extremities, till it barely powdered the 
 rigid soil, an ill-favored mongrel lay 
 sleeping in the sunshine. The upper 
 edge of this cliff was fringed with coppice 
 wood, and a straggling hazel hung care- 
 lessly over its brink, the shadows of 
 which, as it swayed to and fro in the wind, 
 danced upon its white ramparts, just 
 
 where the light steamy smoke, from the 
 little hovel below, curled gracefully up- 
 wards. 
 
 In none of these details was there any 
 thing pleasing, and yet with the whole, 
 throwing into the scale the circumstances 
 under which I viewed it, and the associa- 
 tions which it awakened, I was so de- 
 lighted that I, would make no ordinary 
 sacrifice for the sake of another glimpse. 
 We passed briskly by a considerable 
 plantation of firs, and my head grew 
 dizzy as their tall grey stems changed 
 places with each other, alternately forming 
 long and regular vistas, at the end of 
 which enchanting glimpses of the sky 
 were for a moment visible, and then dis 
 appeared behind the forest of bare stems, 
 whose green leafy summits left not the 
 grassy avenues be)ow as garish as the 
 brown slopes beyond, but shed over them 
 so soft a twilight, that I looked into it 
 with feelings of no common interest, con- 
 trasted as it was with the calm sun-light 
 crossing here and there a solitary stem, 
 whose festoons cf foliage had been 
 thinned by time or accident. As I saw 
 the cones and broken twigs sprinkling 
 the green sward, I thought of Words- 
 worth's "sheddings of the pining umbrage," 
 and properly to weigh the merits of these 
 few words was no unpleasant nor short- 
 lived employ. I thought of those firs 
 which live in his graphic verse, and their 
 " composing sound," and detected myself 
 almost involuntarily quoting these lines — 
 
 -" Above my head, 
 
 At every impulse of the moving breeze. 
 
 The fir-grove murmurs with a sea-like sound." 
 
 I thought of " lively Hood," and his Plea 
 of the Midsummer fairies, as " blue 
 snatches of the sky '' became visible at 
 intervals through an artless break in the 
 foliage ; and of Bloomfield, when I looked 
 on the " half-ex«luded light" sleeping in 
 patches on the shadowy verdure, below. 
 From these pictures, naturally arising out 
 of the circumstances in which I found 
 myself, my fancy led me into a long di- 
 gression, in which I called to mind those 
 beautiful figures, in the poets quoted, 
 which had often haunted my day dreams, 
 and now came up successively upon 
 " that inward eye which is the bliss ol 
 solitude," like stars peeping, through the 
 cool twilight, or young hopes, hallowed in 
 their birth by those boyish tears not un- 
 frequentlyshed over a fancied disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
367 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 24. 
 
 363 
 
 The coach suddenly drew up where a 
 hy-road branches off to the right, and the 
 clattering of hoofs, and rumbling of wheels, 
 were in an instant exchanged for a silence 
 which seemed deeper from the quick 
 transition by which we had passed into it. 
 A beautiful meadow, sloping down with a 
 tolerably sharp declivity from the road, 
 and intersected by a narrow path, led 
 toward a coppice on which the young 
 moon looked through the dim haze sur- 
 roundina it, serving by its feeble light 
 rather to foster than dissipate the pleasing 
 illusion which lent to the distant land- 
 scape charms 1o which it could not in 
 truth lay claim. A line of stately elms 
 stood at considerable distance from each 
 other at the bottom of this twilight 
 green, and, from a rustic stile by the road 
 side, a countryman hailed us in a voice 
 graced with the twang peculiar to that 
 part of the world ; a dialogue, conducted 
 for a few seconds in a low ton©, and 
 ended by the customary " good night, " 
 formed no unpleasing contrast to the re- 
 pose which breathed around us. 
 
 We passed rapidly onward, without 
 any material occurrence, until we ob- 
 served, from the high ground above tiii 
 town whither we were destined, innumer- 
 able lights,somefixed and others disappear- 
 ing at intervals, the warm glow of which 
 suffered in contrast with the mild glories 
 of the heavens, now powdered with living 
 sapphiies. I was roused from a long re- 
 verie into which these considerations led 
 me by a sudden jolt, as we passed on to 
 the rugged pavement, which reminded 
 us that we had arrived at the end of 
 our journey. As we crossed the bridge, 
 I looked over the melancholy waters 
 to vards the church which stood above their 
 brink, and, in an old ivy-grown rhansion 
 adjoining, noticed the glimmer of a 
 lonely taper struggling through the dusky 
 panes of an arched casement, and thought 
 of the aptness of that simile of my favor- 
 ite Wordsworth — 
 
 " Like to a dragon's eye, that feels the stress 
 Of a bedimming sleep, — &c.*' 
 
 The following morning I was up be- 
 times and enjoying the freshness of a 
 Slorious' Spring morning as I stood in the 
 dim shadows projected by a street irregu- 
 larly built, with three or four neat white 
 Kables (between which a young lime or 
 lilac glanced and shivered in the clear cool 
 sun light) looking int" it. At its farther 
 
 end, the narrow river swept sluggishly 
 onward, though that amusing trifler Pepys 
 had given it credit for greater vivacity 
 when he chronicled it as "passing swiftly 
 by." On the opposite side the green 
 pastures sloped down to bathe their 
 fringes in its tide, and beyond their clear 
 crisp rims the heavens glowed with such 
 transcendant beauty that the veriest dolt 
 must have felt and owned " the witchery 
 of the soft blue sky." We passed along 
 its margin through a dingy looking mea- 
 dow, in the centre of which a noble row 
 of elms towered high above us. The 
 clamor of a colony of rooks, which had 
 fixed on this spot for their habitation, 
 though harsh in itself, formed not the least 
 pleasing of those melodies of mom 
 which now greeted us, and I thought of 
 Bloomfield's " Burnt-hall " environed by 
 tall trees, and cheered by the day-break 
 song of woodland birds, as its smoke 
 rose upwards in- the still morning air. 
 Under the influence of such pleasing 
 cogitations, I attempted to " do" the scene 
 into English metre, but stuck fast after 
 hammering out the following stanza, — 
 
 A sun^beam slants along that line of trees, 
 Mottling those firosty boughs with beauteous 
 
 sbade. 
 Whose leafy skirts, swayed by the passing 
 
 breeze. 
 Appear in starry gossamer arrayed ; 
 Whilst o'er the spare-clad summits, ill at ease, 
 The rooks wheel round their noisy cavalcade. 
 Or, as on some tall treacherous spray they 
 
 swing. 
 Scream out their fears, and spread the 
 
 cautious vriug. 
 
 Our walk led us by a hedge of scented 
 briar towards a commanding height, par- 
 tially covered with clover, on the dewy 
 surface of which I noticed about our 
 shadows that beautiful refraction wnich 
 the fancy of Benivenuto Cellini conjured 
 into a supernatural appearance. A lovely 
 scene stretched around us, and, in the 
 valley below, the town which we had just 
 left, partially hidden by the early smoke, 
 blending as it streamed upwards with 
 earth's morning incense, presented an ap- 
 pearance so enchanting, as the sun-slants 
 struck through the silvery mists which hung 
 over it, that, unsightly as I had thought it 
 in detail, I looked on it now with feel- 
 ings approaching to rapture. Turning 
 to the right, I gazed on the old church 
 tower, which, seen in shade, exhibited a 
 bold outline against the misty amphi 
 theatre of hills beyund it. 
 
lJoO 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 24. 
 
 375 
 
 MAIDSTONE CHURCH. 
 
 I had wandered oftentimes up and 
 down its long-drawn aisles, and whilst I 
 admired the grace and beauty of its 
 Gothic arches and laccrwork windows, now 
 despoiled of those heraldries, the warm 
 glow of which had slept on die. massive 
 columns separating them from the nave, 
 had thought of Byron and of Newstead 
 with its mighty window, — 
 
 " Shorn of its glass of thousand colonngg^ 
 Through which the deepened glories used to 
 
 enter. 
 Streaming from off the sun-like seraph's 
 
 wings. 
 
 I had heard the noble organ scattering its 
 dulcet strains and rolling its harmonious 
 ' thunders along the lofty pile, and had 
 gazed with feelings of awe and mystery 
 on the strange effigies, and memorials to 
 departed greatness, with which the chan- 
 cel and its side aisles abound. Amongst 
 Ihem I had seen two large alabaster 
 figures,* which, though habited in grave- 
 
 * BesidetheaUar^betweentwouprigfatmarble 
 figures beautifully executed, representing Sit 
 
 clothes, were placed side by side in an 
 upright position, beside the altar ; and I 
 fancied that around them there breathed 
 such an air of sanctity as had been strange 
 to earth, since the period when they were 
 consecrated in tears to the memory of beings 
 superhuman both in the stature of their 
 minds and bodies. Below them a large 
 slab of polished marble, ornamented with 
 their arms, stood in all its original fresh- 
 ness and beauty, though possibly placed 
 there when the first faint glimmering of 
 that day-spring from on high, which 
 dazzled and confounded the advocates of 
 popery, had beamed upon us, that in its 
 light we might see light clearly. 
 
 This idea I was pleased to entertain, 
 
 John 4stley and his lady, is a verbose epi- 
 taph on the defunct. Above it, in two re- 
 cesses, are similar effigies, although, consider- 
 ably smaller, with inscriptions on stones, 
 projecting from the monument, and fronting 
 each other, commemorative of the right wor- 
 shipful John Astley, and Margaret his wife, 
 one of the Grev family. — " Summer Wander* 
 ings." 
 
371 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 24. 
 
 372 
 
 contrary to my better judgment, which 
 fixed the period of its erection there, per- 
 haps to a century later, because, in those 
 darker days to which I have referred, 
 monuments of such forms and in similar 
 situations were greatly coveted " to the in- 
 tent they might bear the blessed body of 
 our Lord, and the sepulture at the time of 
 Easter." These considerations carried 
 me back to the times of pardons,bulls, and 
 indulgences, and I could not but think 
 that our ancestors accomplished all that 
 they took in hand with a zeal and 
 promptness which would have done credit 
 to a better cause. They ate heartily, they 
 drank heartily, they fought heartily, and 
 m some instances they prayed heartily, 
 though those tears which would have 
 cleansed their eyes from the scales of 
 error had been suppressed by their fondly 
 cherished hopes of human merit, and their 
 patchwork notions of a lalse sutBciepcy. 
 I thought erf legends and martyrs and 
 miracles, of masses and of dirges, of 
 saints, popes, cardinals, and bishops, and 
 all the paraphernalia of a system, in 
 every sense of the word, imposing in the 
 highest degree. I saw in vision a high 
 goodly altar of fair stone formed into 
 niches, peopled with " silver saviours and 
 with saints of gold," and, on weighing 
 the sarcasm couched in this line, found it 
 borne out by facts. I thought of Chau- 
 cer's Prioress's Tale, and the young in- 
 nocent prostrate on his bier : — 
 
 And after that, the abbot and him convent, 
 Han spedde them for to berie him ful faste. 
 But, when they holy water on him caste. 
 Then spake the child, when spreint was the 
 holy water. 
 
 And sung " © alma ISelreinptottB ittatet !" 
 
 I had remarked too, fronting its south 
 entrance, a Gothic tomb,* from which the 
 
 * On the south side of the chancel is a 
 magnificent altar-tomb, supposed to mark the 
 burial place of one of the Woodville or WydviU 
 family, who possessed the Mote, a seat of 
 considerable antiquity in the neighbourhood, 
 now occupied by lord Romney, and who was 
 probably a benefactor to this beautiful edifice, 
 as the arms which ornament it are to be found 
 in other parts of the church ; particularly on 
 the wooden seats hereafter mentioned. It 
 consists of a large slab of Bethersden marble, 
 having indents in which the brass figure of an 
 ecclesiastic under a Gothic canopy, and three 
 smaller efligies with similar decorations, have 
 been inlaid. At the back, and at each end of 
 the recess, are figures al-JrescOf So shamefully 
 
 bra.ss inlays had been purloined by our 
 " reformers," whilst the Vandals of later 
 times had so hacked and hewed about the 
 fresco paintings which adorned it that they 
 exhibited a pitiful wreck of vermilion and 
 verditer, with here and there the limb of 
 a golden nimbus or the fragment of a 
 scroll. With some difficulty I had decy- 
 phered the first word of that well-known 
 salutation " Ave Maria gratia plena !" and 
 had musedon the ancient gloriesof the queen 
 of heaven, to whom monastic austerity and 
 knightly honor had in former times yielded 
 equal honors. I had seen the snow-white 
 pinnacles of a range of splendid stalls 
 beside thealtar,* lifting their goodly sum- 
 mits in beauteous contrast with the gold 
 and crimson which still disfigured this 
 tomb, and had fancied the clear wintry 
 moon, as it shone through the lofty win- 
 dows, — 
 
 "y peint 
 
 With lives of many a holy seint," 
 
 transferring their glories to this fair piece 
 of work, and softening by its gentle light 
 the rich depth of coloring, till it slept on 
 their airy summits like the blush of a re- 
 tiring rainbow on the brightening heavens. 
 I had looked with the inquisitive eye of 
 an antiquary on those indents, from which 
 the ancient brasses had disappeared, and, 
 from the outline, had conjectured that 
 
 defaced, that it is impossible to say for whom 
 they were intended. One is very like the 
 common representations of St. Katherine, for 
 whom it was most probably designed. Another 
 I conclude to be a portraiture of the Virgin, 
 as an angel is kneeling before it with a label 
 from his mouth -, the inscription which it for- 
 merly bore is so completely defaced, that not 
 a letter is distinctly legible : thp word ^bc, 
 with an illuminated initial, may with some 
 difficulty be decyphered : a fourth figure, still 
 more imperfect, remains, and at the foot of the 
 tomb another, habited as an archbishop, mitred 
 and holding acrosier,which, with one something 
 similar at the opposite extremity, is in a very 
 creditable state of preservation. A canopy of 
 elegant Gothic stone-work covers the whole ; 
 it consists of four arches, rising in florid pin- 
 nacles, with two of smaller dimensions on 
 each side. These are ornamented with coats 
 of arms, which it is impossible to describe 
 correctly, as they have been carelessly re- 
 painted by some person ill-versed in heraldry. 
 * On the south side of the altar are the 
 remains of five very costly stone stalls, sur- 
 mounted by as many turrets of , open work ter- 
 minating in crocketed pinnacles. 
 
373 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— MARCH 24. 
 
 374 
 
 the tomb covered all that was mortal of 
 some wealthy ecclesiastic, who probably, 
 with an accommodating conscience, could 
 preach against those vices which he was 
 most forward in the practice of. I passed 
 from the consideration of this sordid 
 lAnk to the humbler orders of the priest- 
 hood, and fancied a good man of religion, 
 announcing those glorious truths which, 
 though not in all cases equally prized, 
 had been no less precious in the days of 
 Chaucer. I had seen him in the pulpit 
 anxious to gain the ears and hearts of his 
 people, stretching forth his neck east and 
 west, 
 
 " As doth a dove sitting apon a berne/' 
 
 and had followed him in his other pas- 
 toral duties — for he had been one who 
 well deserved this beautiful eulogium, — 
 
 '* This noble ensample to his shepe he gaf — 
 That fiist he wrought and afterward he taught 
 Out of the gospel he the wordes caught. 
 And this figure he added yet thereto 
 That if golde ruste what should iron do." 
 
 I had strayed amongst the dark oak- 
 stalls* and raised their ponderous s<!ats to 
 look on the grotesque carvings beneath, 
 and, in my fear of startling the calm and 
 
 * The ancient oak-stalls belonging to the 
 brethren of the College of All Saints^ adjoin- 
 ing this edifice^ still remain : they are twenty- 
 eight in number^ and are ornamented beneath 
 the seats with carvings, consisting of foliage, 
 flowers, armorial bearings, and grotesque beads 
 and figures. On the pdll^ in the archiepis- 
 copal arms, and wherever else the cross oc- 
 curs, it has been hacked about so as to be 
 almost obliterated. Surely the rage of the 
 puritans and iconoclasts was not a zeal according 
 to knowledge, since it led them thus to muti- 
 late and destroy-the most appropriate symbol 
 of our holy faith. 
 
 " These ' pals of passing gaine, ' as they 
 are called by an early rhymester, from the ex- 
 traordinary price which the Pope received for 
 them, were bishop's vestments, " going over 
 the shoulders, made of sheep's skin, in me- 
 moiy of Him who sought the lost sheep, and, 
 when he had found it, layed it on his shoul- 
 ders.** They were embroidered with crosses, 
 and manufactured from the whitest fieeces 
 which could be procured, the lambs from 
 which they were shorn having been previously 
 presented at the altar of St. Agnes, on the 
 day appropriated to her worship. This know- 
 ledge of their origin rendered them peculiarly 
 obnoxious to the reformers, and occasioned the 
 mutilation referred to." — Summer Wander- 
 ingi. 
 
 quiet of the place, had landlsd them with 
 such trepidation that the very thing I was so 
 studious to avoid came about, and they 
 fell from my grasp with a sound that made 
 every nerve quake within me. I had 
 looked with a curious eye on that im- 
 mense slab of grey stone*between them, 
 graven with the outline of a full-length 
 figure habited as an archbishop, and, as I 
 moralized on the end of earth's highest 
 honors, had turned to the memorial ad- 
 joining, of which all that could be decy- 
 phered was part of the word "requiescit" 
 in a very antique character, rejoicing that 
 the rest referred to had been common to 
 our earliest ancestors, and yet remained 
 for the followers of that pure and unde- 
 filed religion inculcated by the Gospel. 
 
 I liad passed from its cool shade into 
 the pleasant sunshine, and beside the door 
 had noticed a monumental stone for one 
 who had attained the vast age of five 
 score years and four,t and had leant over 
 the low stone wall of its church-yard 
 listening to the rushing river below,, as it 
 leapt over the dam of an adjacent lock 
 and hissed furiously onward. 
 
 With all thes remembrances were its 
 dark battlemen and gleamy roof associ- 
 ated, as I gazed on them from the com- 
 manding height where I was now posted. 
 The hills around rose in successive series, 
 the summits only of each range being 
 visible above the misty vapors that hung 
 about their bases, whilst the sun, occasion- 
 ally slanting through the shadowy groves 
 which crowned them, imparted a semi- 
 transparent effect to the heights thus 
 gladdened by his cheering influences. I 
 felt the magic of the scene, and attempted 
 a description, in which I made no farther 
 progress than the following stanzaa : — 
 
 * The tomb of archbishop Courteney . It con- 
 sists of an immense slab of grey stone, having 
 indents of a figure nearly as large as life, 
 with mitre and crosier, under a Gothic canopy, 
 and surrounded by smaller figures similarly 
 placed. Immediately adjoining it there is a 
 fragment of another memorial ; part of the 
 word 
 
 (Requ) lESClT 
 is all that remains of the inscription. 
 
 t In the church-yard there are few epitaphs 
 worthy of note. Near the south side of the 
 church, however, there is one singular for the 
 longevity of the party it commemorates : — 
 
 " Here lyeth interr'd the body of Joan 
 Heath, who departed this lift-, June "e 4th, 
 1706. Aged 104 years." 
 
375 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 25, 26. 
 
 376 
 
 Look on the valley ! how the sun-Hght 
 
 plays. 
 Where those dim dewy house-tops intervene. 
 So softened down, as through the pearly haze 
 It tremhles forth upon the noiseless scene. 
 Lifce the meek moon-beam when itslustre strays 
 O'er the still waters' melancholy sheen — 
 Or those mild gloamings from the thunder- 
 cloud 
 That seem the smiles of beauty in her shroud ! 
 
 A bank of dreamy vapor hangs about 
 The ('.istant hills, whilst on its sullen face 
 The nearer landscape, coldly shadowed out. 
 Seems a dim picture, where the eye may trace 
 Tall spire and nodding grove, but still in doubt 
 Deem it some fairy scene of transient grace. 
 Till the quick sun-burst streaks the motley 
 
 height 
 And calls its glories into beauteous light. 
 
 So have I seen the playful breeze at morn. 
 Softer than the salt sea's receding wave, 
 Leap in its mirth along the Hashing corn, — 
 So Hope breaks forth to light us through the 
 
 grave. 
 Whilst giant Faith, on stedfast wing upborne, 
 Find^ all thatFear can want, orWeakness crave. 
 Safe where essential day knows no declining, 
 Suns cannot set, nor moons withhold their 
 
 shining. D. A. 
 
 London. 
 
 ifttarHj 25. 
 
 Lady Day. 
 
 This is the festival of the Annunciation ; 
 the manner of its observance in former 
 times is related in the Every Day Book. 
 Weather-cocks in Kent. 
 
 On the 25th of March, 1672, Mr. Evelyn 
 journed to the coast of Kent in an official 
 capacity, and enters in his diary, — " I 
 came back through a country the best 
 cultivated of any that in ray life I had 
 ever seen ; every field lying as even as a. 
 bovf ling-green, and the fences, plantations, 
 and husbandry in such admirable order 
 as infinitely delighted me — observing al- 
 most every tall tree to have a v?eathercock 
 on the top bough, and some trees half-a- 
 dozen. I learned that on a certain holi- 
 day the farmers feast their servants, at 
 which solemnity they set up these cocks 
 as a kind of triumph." 
 
 h. m. 
 
 March 24. Day breaks . . 3 50 
 
 Sun rises : . . 5 48 
 
 — sets .... 6 12 
 
 Twilight ends . . 8 10 
 
 Marygold flowers, here and there, on 
 
 old plants of last yeai. 
 
 iMavd) 26. 
 
 Witch-finding at Nevccastle. 
 Mention occurs of a petition in the 
 common council books of Newcastle, 
 dated March 26th, 1649, and signed, no 
 doubt, by the inhabitants, concerning 
 witches, the purport of which appears, 
 from what followed, to have occasioned 
 all such persons as were suspected, to be 
 apprehended and brought to trial. In 
 consequence of this the magistrates sent 
 two of their Serjeants into Scotland, to 
 agree with a Scotchman, who pretended 
 knowledge to find out witches by pricking 
 them with pins, to come to Newcastle, 
 where he should try such as should be 
 brought to him, and have twenty shillings 
 a-piece for all he should condemn as 
 witches, and free passage thither and 
 back. When the Serjeants brought the 
 witch-finder on horseback to town, the 
 magistrates sent their bellman through 
 the town, ringing his bell and crying, all 
 people that would bring in any complaint 
 against any woman for a witch, they 
 should be sent for, and tried by thie per- 
 son appointed. Thirty women were 
 brought into the Town Hall, and had pins 
 thrust into their flesh, and most of them 
 were found guilty. "The witch-finder ac- 
 quainted lleut. col. Hobson, that he knew 
 whether women were witches or no by 
 their look: but, when the said person was 
 searching of a personable and good-like 
 woman, the said colonel replied, and said, 
 surely this woman is none, and need not 
 be tried ; but the Scotchman said she was, 
 for the town said she was, and therefore 
 he would try her : and presently he ran 
 a pin into her and set her aside as a 
 guilty person, and child of the devil, 
 and fell to try others, whom he pro- 
 nounced guilty. Lieut, col. Hobson 
 proved upon the spot the fallacy of the 
 fellow's trial of the woman, and then the 
 Scotchman cleared her, and said she was 
 not a child of the devil. 
 
 It appears by an extract from the re- 
 gistry of the parochial chapelry of St. 
 Andrews, in Scotland, that one man and 
 fifteen women were executed at New- 
 castle for witchcraft ; and there is a print 
 of this horrid execution in " Gardner's 
 England's Grievance discovered, 1655," 
 reprinted at Newcastle, 1796. 
 
 When the witch-finder had done in 
 Newcastle, and received his wages, he 
 went into Northumberland, to try women 
 there, and got three pounds a-piece; but 
 
377 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 26. 
 
 378 
 
 Henry Ogle, esq., laid bold on li andim, 
 required bond of him, to answer at the 
 sessions. He escaped into Scotland, where 
 he was made prisoner, indicted, arraigned, 
 and condemned for such-like villany ex- 
 ercised in Scotland, and confessed at the 
 gallows that he had been the death of 
 above two hundred and twenty women in 
 England and Scotland, for the -ain of 
 twenty shillings a-piece.* 
 
 Witches and Charms. 
 
 It is related, in the Life of Lord Keeper 
 Guildford, that, upon the circuit at Taun- 
 ton Dean, he detected an imposture and 
 conspiracy against an old man charged 
 with having bewitched a girl of about 
 thirteen years of age, who, during pre- 
 tended convulsions, took crooked pins 
 into her mouth and spit them afterwards 
 into bye-standers' hands. As the judge 
 went down stairs out of the court, an 
 hideous old woman cried, " God bless 
 your worsliip." " What's the matter, 
 good woman ?" said the judge. " My 
 lord," said she, " forty years ago they 
 would have hanged me for a witch, and 
 they could not, and now they would have 
 hanged my poor son." 
 
 On Lord Guildford's first circuit west- 
 ward, Mr. Justice Rainsford, who had 
 gone former circuits there, went with 
 him, and said that the year before a 
 witch was brought to Salisbury and tried 
 before him. Sir James Long came to 
 his chamber and made a heavy complaint 
 of this witch, and said that, if she escaped, 
 his estate would not be worth any thing; 
 for all the people would go away. It 
 happened that the witch was acquitted, 
 and the knight continued extremely con- 
 cerned ; therefore Rainsford, to save the 
 poor gentleman's estate, ordered the 
 woman to be kept in gaol, and that the 
 town should allow her 2s. 6d. a week, 
 for which he was very thankful. The 
 very next assizes he came to the judge to 
 desire his lordship would let her come 
 back to the town. "And why? They 
 could keep her for Is. 6d. there, and in 
 the gaol she cost them a shilling more." 
 
 There is a passage to the following 
 purport, which is much to the present 
 purpose, in the life before cited of the 
 Lord Keeper Guildford : — " It is seldom 
 that a poor old-wretch is brought to trial 
 
 • Sykes's Local Records, Novcaitle, 1824. 
 
 for witchcraft but there is at the heels of 
 her a popular rage that does little less 
 than demand her to be put to death, and 
 if a judge is so clear and open as to de- 
 clare against that impious vulgar opinion, 
 that the devil himself has power to tor- 
 ment and kill innocent children, or that 
 he is pleased to^ divert himself with the 
 good people's cheese, butter, pigs, and 
 geese, and the like errors of the ignorant 
 and foolish rabble, the countrymen, the 
 jury, cry, this judge hath no religion, for 
 he doth not believe witches, and so, to 
 show that they have some, they hang the 
 poor wretches." 
 
 A writer in the Gentlemaa's Magazine 
 for March, 1736, says, "the old woman 
 must by age be grown very ugly, her face 
 shriveled, her body doubled, and her 
 voice scarce intelligible .: hence her form 
 made her a terror to the children, who, if 
 they were afiFrighted at the poor creature, 
 were immediately said to be bewitched. 
 The mother sends for the parish priest, 
 and the priest for a constable. The im- 
 perfect pronunciation of the old woman, 
 and the paralytic nodding of her head, 
 were concluded to be muttering diabo- 
 lical charms and using certain magical 
 gestures ; these were proved upon her at 
 the next assizes, and she was burnt or 
 hanged as an enemy to mankind." 
 
 The subjoined recipe is from Reginald 
 Scott's Discovery of Witchcraft : — 
 
 " A Special Charm to preserve all Cattle 
 from Witchcraft. 
 
 " At Easter you must take certain drops 
 that lie uppermost of the holy paschal 
 candle, and make a little wax candle 
 thereof; and upon some Sunday morning 
 rathe, light and hold it so as it may drop 
 upon and between the horns and ears of 
 the beast, saying, In nomine Patris et 
 Filii, &c., and burn the beast a little be- 
 tween the horns on the ears with the 
 same wax, and that which is left thereof 
 stick it cross-wise about the stable or. 
 stall, or upon the threshold, or over the 
 door, where the cattle use to go in and 
 out : and, for all that year, your cattle 
 shall never be bewitched." 
 
 According to Mr. Pennant, the farmers 
 in Scotland carefully preserve their cattle 
 against witchcraft by placing boughs of 
 mountain-ash and honeysuckle in their 
 cow-houses on the 2nd of May, They 
 hope to preserve the milk of their cows. 
 
379 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 27. 
 
 MQ 
 
 and their wives, by tying threads about 
 them; and they bleed the supposed 
 witch to preserve themselves from her 
 charms.* 
 
 
 h, m. 
 
 March 2o. Day breaks 
 
 . 3 47 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 5 46 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 . 6 14 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 8 13 
 
 Scopoli's henbane flowers. 
 
 
 MaVC^ 27. 
 
 
 March 27, 1625, ting James I. died at 
 Theobalds, in the 59th year of his age, 
 and at the commencement of the twenty- 
 third year of his reign in England. 
 
 James I. had many virtues, but scarcely 
 any of them free from neighbouring vices. 
 His generosity bordered on profusion, 
 his learning on pedantry, his pacific dis- 
 * position on pusillanimity, his wisdom on 
 cunning, his friendship on light fancy and 
 boyish fondness. While he endeavoured, 
 by an exact neutrality, to acquire the 
 good will of all his neighbours, he was 
 not able to preserve, fully, the esteem and 
 regard of any. Upon the whole, it may 
 be pronounced of his character that all 
 his qualities were sullied with weakness, 
 and embellished by humanity. Hunting 
 and school divinity seem to have been his 
 favorite pursuits.f 
 
 Dress, temp. James I. 
 
 Henry Vere, the gallant earl of Oxford, 
 was the first nobleman that appeared at 
 court, in the reign of James I., with a hat 
 and white feather; which was sometimes 
 worn by the king himself. 
 
 The long love lock seems to have been 
 first in fashion among the beaux in this 
 reign, who sometimes stuck flowers in 
 their ears. 
 
 William, earl of Pembroke, a man far 
 from an effeminate character, is repre- 
 sented with ear-rings. 
 
 Wrought night-caps were in use in the 
 reigns of Elizabeth, James, and Charles 
 I. Privy-counsellors and physicians wore 
 them embroidered with gold and silk : 
 those worn by the clergy were only black 
 and white. Mrs. Kennon, the midwife, 
 a collector of curiosities, had the night- 
 cap of Oliver Cromwell, embroidered 
 with black. 
 
 * Brand. 
 t. Hume. 
 
 James appears to have left the beard in 
 much the same state as he found it on 
 his accession to the throne. 
 
 The cloak, a dress of great antiquity, 
 was more worn in this than in any of the 
 preceding reigns. It continued to be in 
 fashion after the restoration of Charles II. 
 
 It is well known that James I. used to 
 hunt in a rufi"aLd trowsers. 
 
 We learn, from sir Thomas Overbury 
 that yellow stockings were worn by some 
 of the ordinary gentlemen in the country. 
 
 Silk garters, puffed in a large knot, 
 were worn below the knees, and knots, 
 or roses, in the shoes. 
 
 Wilson informs us that the countess of 
 Essex, after, her divorce, appeared at 
 court " in the habit of a virgin, with her 
 hair pendant almost to her feet : " the 
 princess Elizabeth, with much more pro- 
 priety, wore hers in the same manner 
 when she went to be married to the prince 
 Palatine. 
 
 The head , of the countess of Esse 
 seems to be oppressed with ornaments ; 
 and she appears to have exposed more of 
 the bosom than was seen in any former 
 period. 
 
 The ladies began to indulge a strong 
 passion for foreign laces in the reign of 
 James, which rather increased than abated 
 in succeeding generations. 
 
 The ruff and farthingale still contmued 
 to he worn. Yellow starch for ruffs, first 
 invented by the French, and adapted to 
 the sallow complexions of that people, 
 was introduced by Mrs. Turner, a phy- 
 sician's widow, wno had a principal hand 
 in poisoning sir Thomas Overbury. This 
 vain and infamous woman, who went to 
 be hanged in a ruff of that color, helped 
 to support the fashion as long as she was 
 able. It began to decline upon her exe- 
 cution. 
 
 The ladies, like those of Spain, were 
 banished from court, during the reign of 
 James, which was, perhaps, a reason why 
 dress underwent very little alteration 
 during that period. 
 
 It may not be impertinent to remark 
 that the lady of sir Robert Cary, after- 
 wards earl of Monmouth, was mistress of 
 the sweet (or perfumed) coffers to Anne 
 of Denmark ; an office which answered 
 to that of mistress of the robes at present. 
 
 It appears from portraits that long 
 coats were worn by boys, till they were 
 seven or eight years of age, or upwards, 
 The dress now worn by the blue coat 
 boys, in London, was that of the t'me 
 
3«1 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.- MARCH 28, 29, 30. 
 
 382 
 
 when the hospital was founded. We are 
 told by dean Fell, that the famous Dr. 
 Hammond was in long coats when he 
 was sent to Eton school. 
 
 When James came to the crown, th-jre 
 was in the wardrobe in the tower a great 
 variety of dresses of our ancient kings ; 
 which, to the regret of antiquaries, were 
 soon given away and dispersed * 
 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 March 27 
 
 Day breaks 
 
 . 3 45 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 5 44 
 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 • 6 16 
 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 8 15 
 
 mnvOt 28. 
 
 Welsh Surnames. 
 On March 28th, 1738, died Mrs Ithpll, 
 wife of Benedict Ithell, deputy paymaster 
 of Chelsea college, respecting whom, or 
 Mrs. Ithell, nothing more is known than 
 that Mrs. Itbell's death; upon this day, 
 affords the opportunity of stating that she 
 was wife to Mr. Ithell, and that Mr. Ithell 
 appears, from his surname, to have been 
 of Welsh extraction, which leads to this 
 remark : — that almost all the Welsh fami- 
 lies have what were anciently only bap- 
 tismal ones, as Morgan, Williams, Jones,' 
 Cadwallader, Ithell, &c., with a long train 
 of others, annexed by " Ap," which is 
 synonymous with " Ben" in Hebrew, 
 " Fitz" in French, " Vitz" in Russian, 
 and " Son" in the Danish language ; 
 except that, when the Welsh adopted 
 surnames, which is a late thing with them, 
 they abbreviated the " Ap," by putting 
 the final letter as the prefix to the surname : 
 as, Powel, Pany, Proger, Prichard, Pugh, 
 &c., instead of Ap-Owel, Ap-Harry 
 Ap-Roger, Ap-Richard, Ap-Hugh.f 
 
 full fifteen hands high, gone after the 
 hounds many times, rising six years and 
 no more; moves as well as most creatures 
 upon earth, as good a road mare as any 
 in ten counties, and ten to that; trots at 
 a confounded pace; is from the country, 
 and her owner will sell her for nine 
 guineas ; if some folks had her she would 
 , fetch near three times the money. I 
 have no acquaintance, and money I want; 
 and a service in a shop to carry parcels, 
 or to be in a gentleman's service. My 
 father gave me the mare .to get rid of me, 
 and to try my fortune in London ; and I 
 am just come from Shropshire, and I can 
 be recommended, as I suppose nobody 
 takes servants without, and have a voucher 
 for my mare. Enquire for me at the 
 Talbot Inn, near the New Church in the 
 Strand.— A. R." 
 
 
 h, m. 
 
 28. Day breaks 
 
 . 3 42 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 . 5 42 
 
 — sets ... 
 
 . 6 18 
 
 Tvrilightends . 
 
 . 8 18 
 
 Utartl) 29. 
 
 
 HoBSK AMD Man. 
 
 
 In March, 1759, the annexed appeared 
 as. an advertisement in the Public Ad- 
 vertiser.—" To BE Sold, a fine grey mare. 
 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 29. 
 
 Day breaks 
 
 . 3 40 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 5 40 
 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 . 6 20 
 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 8 20 
 
 * Granga : 
 t NoUa 
 
 MAVt^ 30, 
 
 In Wimbledon church, Surrey, is the fol- 
 lowing inscription by the Rev. Mr. Cook- 
 soy, the minister, — To the Memory of 
 John Martens, a gardener, a native of 
 Portugal, who cultivated here, with indus- 
 try and success, the same ground under 
 three masters [a Mr. ,Bish, who brought 
 him from Portugal, — Bish Richards, esq., 
 — and sir Henry Banks, knight,} forty 
 years. Though skilful and experienced, 
 he was modest and unassuming ; and 
 though faithful to his masters, and with 
 reason esteemed, he was kind to his 
 fellow servants, and was therefore be- 
 loved. His family and neighbours la- 
 mented his death, as he was a careful 
 husband, a tender father, and an honest 
 man. This character is given to posterity 
 by his last master, willingly, because 
 deservedly, as a lasting testimony of 
 his great regard for so good a servant. 
 He died March 30, 1760, aged 66. 
 
 " To public service grateful nations raise 
 Proud structures, which excite to deeds «, 
 
 praise ; 
 While private services in corners thrown, 
 Howe'er deserving, never gain one stone. 
 But are not lilies, which the valleys hide. 
 Perfect as cedars, thoug^l the mountain i. 
 pride ? 
 
383 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 31. 
 
 384 
 
 Let, then^ the violets their fragance breathe^ 
 Aud piaeB their ever verdant branches wreath 
 Around. his grave, who^from their tender birth, 
 Uprear'd both Dwarf and Giant Sons of Earth, 
 And, though himself exotic, lived to see 
 Trees of Ms raising droop as well as he. 
 Those were his care, while his own bending 
 
 age 
 Hig master propt, and screened from winter's 
 
 rage ; 
 Till down he gently fell ; then, with a tear. 
 He bade his sorrowing son transplant him here. 
 But, though in weakness planted, as his fruit 
 Always bespoke the goodness of his root, 
 The spirit quickening, he had power to rise. 
 With leaf unfading, under happier skies." 
 
 30. Day breaks 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 h. m. 
 . 3 37 
 ; 5 38 
 . 6 22 
 . 8 33 
 
 MSitC'^ 31. 
 
 Bath Prophecy. 
 
 
 On the 80th of March, 1809, the de- 
 struction of the city of Bath was to have 
 been effected by a convulsion of the earth, 
 which should cause " Beacon-hill to meet 
 Beechen Cliff." This inauspicious junc- 
 tion was said to have been foretold by an 
 old woman, who had derived her informa- 
 tion from an angel. This reported pro- 
 phecy rendered many of the inhabitants 
 trulv unhappy, and instigated crowds of 
 
 visitors to quit the city. The portentous 
 hour, 12 o'clock, passed, and the believers 
 were ashamed of their former fears. The 
 alarm is said to have orig;inated with two 
 noted cock-feeders, who lived near the 
 before mentioned hills ; they had been at 
 a public house, and, after, much boasting 
 on both sides, made a match to fight their 
 favorite cocks on Good Friday, which fell 
 on this day ; but fearing the magistrates 
 might interfere, if it became public, they 
 named the cocks after their respective 
 walks, and in the agreement it was speci- 
 fied, that " Mount Beacon would meet Bee- 
 chen Cliff, precisely at twelve o'clock on 
 Good Friday." The match was mentioned 
 with cautions of secrecy to their sporting 
 friends, who repeated it in the same terms, 
 and with equal caution, until it came to the 
 ears of some credulous beings who took 
 the words in their plain sense ; and, as 
 stories seldom lose by being repeated, 
 each added what fear or fancy framed, 
 until the report became a marvellous pro- 
 phecy, which in its intended sense was 
 fulfilled ; for the cocks of Mount Beacon 
 and Beechen Cliff met and fought, and 
 left their hills behind them on their ancient 
 sites, to the comfort and joy of multitudes, 
 who had been infected by the epidemical 
 prediction. 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 .Worth 31. Day breaks 
 
 . 3 33 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 5 36 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 . 6 24 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 8 25 
 
 The Season. 
 
 The insect-world, now sunbeams higher climb. 
 Oft dream of spring, and wake before their time. 
 Bees stroke their little legs across their wings. 
 And venture short flights where the snow-drop hings 
 Its silver bell, and winter aconite 
 Its butter-cup-like flowers, that shut at night, 
 With green leaf furling round its cup of gold. 
 Like tender maiden mufiled from the cold : 
 They sip, and find their honey-dreams are vain, 
 Then feebly hasten to their hives again. 
 The butterflies, by eager hopes undone. 
 Glad as a child come out to greet the sun. 
 Beneath the shadow of a sudden shower 
 Are lost — nor see to-morrow's April flower 
 
 Cl,A3B 
 
385 385 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— APBII,, 
 
 38i 
 
 SS^> 
 
 APHfl,. 
 
 Vol. I.— 13 
 
 To see thee smile, all hearts rejoice ; 
 
 And, warm with feelings strong. 
 With thee all Nature finds a voice, 
 
 And hums a waking song. 
 The lover views thy welcome hours, 
 
 And thinks of summer comej 
 And takes the maid thy early flowers. 
 
 To tempt her steps ft'om home. 
 
 Cube's Shepherd^t Calendar. 
 
387 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL. 
 
 386 
 
 Every page of Clare's " Shepherd's 
 Calendar*' teems with charming scenery, 
 which the pencil might transfer, or the 
 imagination work out upon the canvas. 
 How joyously some of his stanzas repre- 
 sent 
 
 April ! 
 
 In wanton gambols, like a child. 
 
 She tends her early toils. 
 And seeks the buds along the wild 
 
 That blossoms while she smiles ; 
 Or, laughing on, with nought to chide. 
 
 She races with the Hours, 
 Or sports by Nature's lovely side. 
 
 And fills hei lap with flowers. 
 
 The field and garden's lovely hours 
 
 Begin and end with thee ; 
 For what's so sweet as peeping flowers 
 
 And bursting buds to see. 
 What time the dew's unsullied droos. 
 
 In burnish'd gold, distil 
 On crocus flowers' unclosing tops. 
 
 And drooping dafibdil ! 
 
 Along each hedge and sprouting bush 
 
 The singing birds are blest, 
 And linnet green and speckled thrush 
 
 Prepare their mossy nest ; 
 On the warm bed thy plains supply. 
 
 The young lambs find repose. 
 And 'mid. thy green hills basking lie. 
 
 Like spots of lingering snows. 
 
 Thy openM leaves/ and ripen'd buds. 
 
 The cuckoo makes his choice. 
 And shepherds in thy greening woods 
 
 First hear his cheering voice : 
 And to thy ripen'd blooming bowers 
 
 The nightingale belongs ', 
 And, singing to thy parting hours. 
 
 Keeps night awake with songs ! 
 
 With thee the swallow dares to come. 
 
 And cool his sultry wing ; 
 And, urged to seek his yearly home, 
 
 Thy suns the martin bring. 
 Oh ! lovely Month ! be leisure mine 
 
 Thy yearly mate to be ; 
 Though May-day scenes may brighter shine. 
 
 Their biith belongs to thee. 
 
 I waked me with thy rising sun. 
 
 And thy first glories viewed, 
 And, as thy welcome hours begun, 
 
 Their sunny steps pursued. 
 And now thy sun is on thee set. 
 
 Like to a lovely eve, 
 I view thy parting with regret. 
 
 And linger, loath to leave, — 
 
 THE SEASON OF SPRING. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Thanks to the human heart by which we live. 
 Thanks to its tenderness, its joys and fears ; 
 To me the meanest flower that blows can give 
 Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. 
 Wordsmorth. 
 
 I cannot restrain myself from 
 
 bringing together many " a shred and 
 patch" on the beginning of the Natural 
 Year* 
 
 Spring ! of hope, and lOve, and youth, and 
 
 gladness, 
 Wind -winged emblems ! brightest, best, and 
 
 fairest ! • 
 Whence comest thou 1 
 
 Behold her approach with her flowerets, 
 and young leaves, and balmy air, and 
 fleecy clouds, and sunny showers- 
 Shedding soft dews from her etherial 
 
 wings ; — 
 And music on the waves and woods she flings. 
 And love on all that lives, and calm on life- 
 less things. 
 
 Hail, lovely season ! thrice beautiful in 
 thy timid guilelessness, thy sweet confid^ 
 ing innocence ! I welcome thee with 
 placid joy. To me thou hast ever brought 
 renewed hopes and happy anticipations. 
 
 1 was taught by thee to listen to 
 
 The echoes of the human world, which tell 
 Of the low voice of love, almost unheard. 
 And dove-eyed pity's murmured pain, and 
 
 music. 
 Itself the echo of the heart, and all 
 That tempers or improves man's life. 
 
 Reader — Art thou discomforted by un- 
 welcome truths and sad realities ? — Dost 
 thou "relapseinto cutting remembrances?" 
 "-^Are thy feelings " kept raw by the edge 
 of repetition?" — Is thy spirit discomposr 
 ed by the rude jostle of society ? — Dost 
 thou loathe the cold glitter of false and 
 fashionable life, the endless impertinences 
 of worldly-minded ' men ? — Dost thou 
 desire 
 
 A correspondent selects, chiefly, from 
 
 ur elder writers, some beautiful passages 
 
 on the Spring, which bursts upon us in 
 
 this sweet month. Poets sing of it as a 
 
 jubilee of life, love and liberty, to nature. 
 
 tranquil solitude, 
 
 And such society 
 As is quiet, wise, and good ? 
 
 — Hast thou been long buried in streets, 
 
 And cannot see the heavens, nor the flow 
 Of rivers, nor hill-flowers running wild 
 In pink and purple chequer, nor, up-pilM 
 The cloudy rack slow journeying in the west, 
 Like herded elephants ; nor felt, nor prest, 
 Cool grass, nor tasted the fresh slumberous air t 
 
 — Quit the corking cares of the world,— 
 come with me for a day into the country 
 
389 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL. 
 
 390 
 
 — and thou wilt be the better for it all 
 the year after. We will indulge in sweet 
 thoughts and solacing interchanges of 
 kindly feeling. — 
 
 And now we are in aquiet, rural spot, 
 far from the busy hum of men, 
 
 so that a whispering blade 
 
 Of grass, a waiifal gnat, a bee, bustling 
 Down in the blue-bells, or a wren light rustling 
 Among the leaves and twigs, might all be 
 heard. 
 
 No sound strikes upon our ear but the grate- 
 ful music of nature. " There is a spirit 
 of youth in every thing." — 
 
 Through wood, and stream, and hill, and field, 
 
 and ocean 
 A .quickening life from the earth's heart has 
 
 burst. 
 As it has ever done. 
 
 " Fresh leaves and flowers deck the dead 
 season's bier ;" and, ah ! —tliere is one of 
 them — the primrose ! See how it peeps 
 from yon southern mossy bank, pale and 
 motionless — " not wagging its sweet 
 head," — so hushed and still is the atmo- 
 sphere, that there is not even a playful 
 breeze abroad " to fondle the flowerets 
 in its soft embrace." This darling flower, 
 this early child of spring, " that comes 
 before the swallow dares, and takes the 
 winds of March with beauty," is my pe- 
 culiar favorite. I never meet with a tuft 
 of them for the first time, but there goes 
 to my heart an intense feeling of their 
 calm and innocent loveliness. They aie to 
 me heralds of young and fresh-bursting 
 life, dear pledges of the renewed existence 
 of nature. They tell me of the vernal 
 joys that are at hand, awaiting me. This 
 feeling I experience at every returning 
 seasou : it is connected with many an 
 early association. I delight to follow and 
 trace it far back, into the years of child^ 
 hood, 
 
 And find no end, in wanderir, mazes lost. 
 
 I can discover nothing but " the man's 
 thoughts dark within the infant's brain." 
 How mysterious are the operations of the 
 mind at that budding period I To what 
 point of our infancy are we to refer the 
 first dim and shadowy associations ? How 
 can we trace the early dawning of 
 
 that primal sympathy. 
 
 Which, having been, must ever be, 
 
 and which- makes the same poet exclaim, 
 in a line full of deep and philosophic 
 thought, 
 
 " " The child is father of the man ?" 
 
 And then, again, by what insensible gra- 
 dations do we progress to the laughing 
 thoughtlessness of boyhood 1 Oh ! how 
 I love to revert to those days of careless 
 gaiety and unrestrained freedom! Life 
 then had no stern realities. Every object 
 was clothed in the fairy hues of imagina- 
 tion. I lived and moved as in a dream ; 
 and hope was " as broad and easing as 
 the general air." Many of my hkppiest 
 moments ar° derived from the golden 
 recollections intertwined with the very 
 heart-strings of my being, — old dwellers 
 in my bosom, that ever linger with me, 
 And, of the past, are all that cannot pass away ! 
 Time and care make sad havoc with these 
 aerial enjoyments. 
 
 Whither is fled the visionary gleam 1. 
 
 Where is it now, the glory and the dream ? 
 
 Youth invests all which it sees and de- 
 sires with the rainbow tints of fancy; 
 
 " And by the vision splendid 
 
 Is on its way attended ; 
 At length the man perceives it die away. 
 And fade into the light of common day. 
 
 Yet let us press on joyfully in our course. 
 " there be delights, there be recreations, 
 arid jolly pastimes, that will fetch the day 
 about from sun to sun, and rock the tedi- 
 ous year as in a delightful dream." 
 
 What though the radiance which was once 
 so bright 
 
 Be now for ever taken from our sight. 
 Though nothing can bring back the hour 
 Of spleiidor in the grass, of glory in the fiower ! 
 We will grieve not, rather find 
 Strength in what remains behind. 
 A thousand pure pleasures remain to us. 
 Foremost, and the most soothing among 
 them, is natural scenery. I lately met 
 with a passage, written some years ago, 
 in a periodical work, which finely and 
 feelingly expresses all that I would say 
 on this subject. The author, writing from 
 a lonely spot in Switzerland, describes it, 
 and thus proceeds ; — 
 
 '• During those dreams of the soul, 
 which our hopes and wishes create, and 
 our reason is unable to destroy, — ^when 
 we wish to retire from the loud and stirring 
 world, and, among the loveliness of some 
 fitr-removed valley, to pass the days that 
 fate may have assigned us, — where the 
 mind endeavours to combine in one scene 
 every beauteous image that memory can 
 supply, or imagination picture,— it would 
 be impossible to conceive the existence 
 of a more lovely landscape. So sweet is 
 this spot, that the verv winds of heaven 
 O 2 
 
391 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL. 
 
 392 
 
 seem slowly and fondly to pass over it, 
 and the little summer birds sing more 
 cheerily amid its holy solitude. Since I 
 have seen it, I have not been conscious of 
 feeling any emotion allied to evil. Indeed, 
 'what could make the heait evil-disposed 
 among such general peace and happiness ? 
 No mind can withstand the influence of 
 fair and lovely scenery, and the calmness 
 of a fine summer-evening, when there is 
 nothing to prevent its sinking into the very 
 furthest recesses of the heart. For my- 
 self, at least, I can say that I never walked 
 with my face towards a fine setting sun, 
 without feeling it to be, as our own most 
 majestic poet has expressed it, ' a heavenly 
 destiny.' Nothing tends so powerfully 
 to extinguish all bad passions as the 
 contemplation of the still majesty of na- 
 ture." 
 
 We started, gentle reader, for the day, 
 withgazingon "that little pearle of pulchri- 
 tude,", the primrose ; and now the sun is 
 verging towards the west, " witli all his 
 gay apparelling of clouds," we will 
 bend our sober steps homewards. — 
 
 Tell me, do you not feel ha]ipier since 
 you left town in the morning '! Do you 
 not breathe more freely, and feel more 
 cheerful, and "wear more of thatherb called 
 hearts-ease in your bosom 1" Do you 
 not return with gentler and kindlier dis- 
 positions towards your fellow-creatures, 
 and with an inclination to look on the 
 favorable aspect of things? These relax- 
 ations are green sunny resting-places in 
 the journey of life, — " glimpses that make 
 us less forlorn. — " But perhaps it may 
 be the long looking forward, during tlie 
 busy anxious intervals between refreshing 
 walks, that imparts exquisite delight to 
 these holidays. Let us, however, have 
 as many of these as we can. Let us 
 cherish the social and benevolent affec- 
 tions, and be lovers of nature, and of one 
 another; for 
 
 " Nature never did betray 
 
 The heart that loved her : 'tis her privilege 
 Through all the years of this our life to lead 
 From joy to joy ; for she can so inform 
 The mind that is within us, so impress 
 With quietness and beauty, and so feed 
 With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues. 
 Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men. 
 Shall e'er prevail against us ; or disturb 
 Our cheerful faith, that all Tirhich wc behold 
 Is full of blessings. — " 
 
 Let us, then, go abroad in the early 
 year, and allow " spring's first voluptuous 
 paintings, when she breathes her first 
 sweet kisses," to ",tremble o'er oui frames." 
 
 flo that our disembodied thoughts. 
 
 Loosed from the load of worlds, may higfi 
 
 ascend. 
 Beyond the empyrean. 
 
 In the goodly summer season, let us havH 
 our quiet musings, as we stroll through 
 the luxuriant meadow. 
 
 Or by the osiers of a rivulet. 
 Fall ankle deep in lilies of the vale, 
 
 or pursue the chequered woodland path- 
 way. 
 
 Winding through palmy fern and rushes fenny. 
 And ivy banks.; leading full pleasantly 
 To a wide lawn, whence one can only see 
 Stems thronging all around, between the swell 
 Of turf and slanting branches ; who can tell 
 The freshness of the space of heaven abovey 
 Edg'd round with dark tree tops? through 
 
 which a dove 
 Both oitfin beat its wings, and often too 
 A little cloud doth move across the blue. 
 
 Let us have our morning walks on the 
 breezy upland,— 
 
 Where sweet air stirs 
 Blue hare-bells lightly, and where prickly furz"; 
 Buds lavish gold, ' 
 
 ■ and greet the sun. 
 
 Up-beaming from the valleys of the east. 
 And, when " the crimson pall of eve doth 
 fall" upon the landscape below us, let us 
 watch its every feature as it becomes 
 Bathed all over with a streaming flood 
 Of level light, as heaven's majestic orb 
 Slow sinks behind the far-oif western hills. 
 
 On those sultry days again, 
 When not the limberest leaf is seen to move. 
 Save where the linnet lights upon the spray ; 
 When not a floweret bends its little stalk. 
 Save where the bee alights upon the bloom. 
 
 Let us seek " some fair lone beecben 
 tree," and under " its cirque of shedded 
 leaves," reclining on " daisies vermeil- 
 limmed and white, hid in deep herbage," 
 peruse a favorite author, 
 
 for books, we know. 
 
 Are a substantial world, both pure and good'. 
 Round which > with tendrils strong as flesh &ud 
 
 blood. 
 Our pastime and our happiness may grow. 
 
 In Autumn, toq, ' 
 
 When barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day. 
 
 And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue; 
 When in a wailful choir the small gnats moam 
 
 Among the river swallows, borbe aloft. 
 Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies ; 
 
 and when with treble soft 
 
 The red-breast whistles from the garden- 
 croft ; 
 And gathering swallows twitter in the skies ; * 
 
393 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL. 
 
 394 
 
 when we listen to " the sound of hollow 
 sighs in the serewood," and look upon 
 
 those bright leaves^ whose decay. 
 Red, Yellow, or etherially pale. 
 Rivals the pride of summer ; 
 
 Or when, in the evenings, 
 
 *' The breath of winter comes from far away. 
 
 And the sick west continually bereaves 
 
 Of some gold tinge, and plays a roundelay 
 
 Of death, among the bushes and the leaves. 
 
 Making all bare before he dares to stray 
 
 From his north cavern \ 
 
 let us 
 
 With many feelings, many thoughts. 
 Make up a meditative joy, and find 
 Religious meanings in the forms of Nature. 
 
 And, last of all, " when the chill rain 
 begins at shut of eve, in dull November;" 
 and "winter comes to rule the varied 
 year ;" let us have our social comforts, 
 and pleasant chat at the blazing hearth, 
 and listen, with an inward consciousness 
 of security, to the howling storms without. 
 
 Which at the doors d windows seem to 
 
 call. 
 As heaven and earth they would together mall; 
 Yet the least entrance find they none at all ; 
 Whence sweeter grows our rest secure in massy 
 
 hall. 
 
 Let us have our healthful, bracing walks, 
 during the cold, frosty weather; our 
 happy Christmas merriments ; and our 
 pleasant new year's day parties : ' 
 
 He who of these delights can judge, and 
 
 spare 
 To interpose them oft, is not unwise. 
 
 In short, let us be cheerful, and, tempe- 
 rate, and kind, and honest; and, when 
 the snows of age descend upon our heads, 
 and we begin to approach towards " that 
 dividing streak between our visible hori- 
 zon and that more clear and unstained 
 ' hemisphere on which the sun of human 
 existence rises, where it dips behind the 
 remotest hills of earthly vision," may we 
 hope for that easy separation, that gentle 
 dissolution, so finely alluded to by Dry- 
 den, in the following lines : — 
 
 Is there no smooth descent ? no painless way 
 Of kindly mixing with our native clay ? 
 There is, — but rarely shall that path be trod : 
 ♦ • • » » ' 
 
 Some few, by temp'rance taught, approaching 
 
 slow 
 To distant fate, by easy journeys go ; 
 Gently they lay them down, as ev'ning sheep 
 That on their woolly fleeces softly sleep. 
 
 — And now, kind reader, I have one 
 request before we part; forget not our 
 worthy chronicler, friend Hone, who has 
 gathered for us, into his chaiming pages, 
 " so many a seasonable fact, and pleasant 
 story." Send him a local custom, a rural 
 or city meditation, an extract, nay even a 
 reference or a suggestion. I prithee 
 bestir thyself in this matter, and spend 
 an hour now and then in the right pleasant 
 and friendly occupation of communicating 
 thy portion of amusement to the pages of the 
 Year Book. But methinks I hear thee 
 say, — ' I would send this, but I am sure 
 friend Hone knows about it already." — 
 " Out upon such half-faced fellowship ! " 
 Contribute cheerfully what thou hast, and 
 allow not such dallying suppositions to 
 form any ground of excuse. We have 
 each of us our own peculiar recollections, 
 our favorite authors, our curious facts, 
 our choice passages ; let us, then, lighten 
 his labor, and contribute to the variety 
 of his columns, " by joining and uniting 
 in one general and brotherly resolution" 
 to send whatever we think suitable and 
 appropriate, and worthyof being recorded ; 
 for, to conclude, in the words of Milton, 
 " neither can eveiy building be of one 
 form ; nay, rather, the perfection consists 
 in this, that out of many moderate varie- 
 ties, and brotherly dissimilitudes, not 
 vastly disproportional, arises the goodly 
 and the gracefol symmetry that commends 
 the whole pile and structure." 
 
 And, lastly, gentle reader, you and I 
 have jogged on very pleasantly together, 
 glancing, in our way, at many of the 
 happy things, " the joys and the delights 
 of human life," and, since we must part, 
 let us remember that 
 
 -the crown of these 
 
 Is made of love and friendship, and sits high 
 Upon the forehead of humanity. 
 All its more ponderous and bulky worth 
 Is friendship, whence there ever issues forth 
 A steady splendor; but at the tip-top 
 There hangs, by unseen film, an orbed drop 
 Of light, and that is love. 
 Edinburgh, March, 1831. 
 
 A. W. 
 
395 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL. 
 
 306 
 
 Alimentary Calendar. 
 
 The festival of Easter, which usually 
 fiiUs towards the commencement of April, 
 is the epoch at which grass-lamb and 
 turbot are in particular demand. Green- 
 geese and turkey-poults also come into 
 notice. Pork disappears from all polite 
 tables, but roasting pigs are in request. 
 
 Holibut, in this and the two following 
 months, is in perfect condition ; it comes 
 in as an acceptable variety at the close o 
 Lent, along with carp, tench, and perch, 
 which continue in season until the end 
 of June. 
 
 But the novelty which most distm- 
 guishes April is that royal fish, the stur- 
 geon, whose value has recently been 
 enhanced by the discovery of a mode of 
 dressing which places him almost on a 
 par with turtle in richness of flavor. 
 His flesh partakes much of the nature of 
 veal, and admits of being roasted as such. 
 The weight of sturgeon varies from 50lbs. 
 to 400lbs. Young ones from 3s. 6d. to 
 5s. per. lb. — a price of no account in the 
 estimation of a man with money, and " a 
 palate." 
 
 Mackarel is in season during April, 
 May, and June. The first supply is 
 taken ofl' Brighton, and brought to London 
 in vans, light vehicles upon springs, drawn 
 by four horses, at the same rate as the 
 stage coaches. The fish are packed in 
 wicker baskets called pots. The mackarel 
 brought in boats are generally caught off 
 Margate, and in such quantities, that 
 shortly after the commencement of the 
 season the market is glutted with them, 
 and they fall rapidly in price. At Torbay, 
 in Devonshire, they are caught in immense 
 numbers, and are often sold two or three 
 for a penny ; sometimes the glut is so 
 great that they are thrown on the land as 
 manure. 
 
 Mullet is in season (^uring this and the 
 following month only. Brighton soles 
 are in request, and brought by the same 
 rapid conveyance which is used for eaily 
 mackarel. In warm weather the precau- 
 tion is taken of gutting them. 
 
 Herrings are in abu-ndance, and in full 
 roe, on which account they are not s6 
 much esteemed, by epicures, as at their 
 second appearance, late in the autumn, 
 when they have spawned. 
 
 Ham is much in Season at this time. 
 It is the almost inseparable escort of most 
 kinds of white meat, the prevailing ingre- 
 dient in sandwiches, and the most conve- 
 nitnt article of occasional refreshment. 
 
 The most highly esteemed hams are from 
 Bayonne and Westphalia, but our own, 
 from Yorkshire, well cured, are scarcely 
 inferior in goodness and flavor. 
 
 This is the last month in which any 
 wild-fowl, except wild pigeons are ad- 
 missible on tables of taste. 
 
 Vegetable Garden Directory. 
 
 (March.*) 
 
 Sow 
 
 Beans ; the long-pod, toker, Sandwich, 
 find Windsor, once or twice during the 
 month. 
 
 Peas ; Prussiains, dwarf imperials, once 
 or twice. 
 
 Lettuce; the hardy sorts. Radish; 
 the salmon, short-top, and the red and 
 white turnip : the two former in the first 
 or second week; the two latter in the 
 third or fourth. 
 
 Small sallad ; every fortnight. 
 
 'Spinach, or spinage ; in the second 
 week for early crops. 
 
 Parsley ; the curled-leaved, in the 
 second or third week. 
 
 Asparagus ; the seeds either in beds to 
 remain, or to be transplanted. 
 
 Purslane, chervil, coriander, basil, dill, 
 fennel, and any other sweet herbs ; — also 
 nasturtium ; — all about the third week. 
 
 Beet-root, carrot, parsnip ; in the third 
 or fourth week for the main crops. 
 
 Cabbage; the red, Savoy, Brussels 
 sprouts, Borecole, about the fourth week, 
 if done at all this month ; — also. 
 
 Turnips ; the early stone, Dutch, and 
 Swedish, or rutabaga ; and 
 
 Onions; the white Spanish, in drills, 
 for a full crop. 
 
 Sea-kale ; either in beds to remain, or 
 to be transplanted. 
 
 Plant 
 
 Horse-radish, Jerusalem artichokes, and 
 artichokes ; in the second or third week ; 
 — also 
 
 Cuttings, slips, and roots, of balm, 
 mint, thyme, savory ; and small plants of 
 sage, rosemary, lavender, and rug; and 
 the roots of garlick, shallots, and chives. 
 
 Asparagus ; in beds, about the fourth 
 week. 
 
 • The article at col. 263 should have been 
 here, and this article there. There is no re- 
 medy at present, but to point out the blunder. 
 In another edition it shall be rectified by 
 transposition. 
 
397 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 1. 
 
 398 
 
 Transplant 
 Early cabbages, Eind aututnn-sown let- 
 tuce; the former as early in the month 
 as possible. 
 
 Earth up 
 Peas, beans, &c. 
 
 Fork 
 Asparagus-beds, if the weather be open 
 and dry at the end of the month. 
 
 Destroy young weeds, and remove 
 litter of every kind. 
 
 National Renovation. 
 As in a body, vfhen the blood is fres.i, 
 the spirits pure and vigorous, not only to 
 vital but to rational faculties, and those 
 in the pertest operations of wit and sub- 
 tilty, it argues in what good plight and 
 constitution the body is; so when the 
 cheerfulness of the people is so sprightly 
 up as that it has not only wherewith to 
 guard well its own freedom and safety, 
 but to spare and to bestow upon the 
 soUdest and sublimest points of contro^ 
 versy and new inventions, it betokens us 
 not degenerated, nor drooping to a fatal 
 decay ; but casting o£F the old and wrinkled 
 skin of corruption, to outlive these pangs, 
 and wax young again, entering the glo- 
 rious ways of truth and prosperous virtue, 
 destined to become great and ^honorable 
 in these latter ages — methinks I see in 
 my mind a noble and puissant nation, 
 rousing herself like a stroiig man after 
 sleep, and shaking her invincible locks : 
 methinks I see her like an eagle mewing 
 her mighty youth, and kindling her un- 
 dazzled eyes at the full' mid-day beam : 
 purging and unsealing her long-abused 
 sight at the fountain itself of heavenly 
 radiance ; while the whole noise of timor- 
 ous and flocking birds, with those also 
 that love thetwiliglit,flutter about, amazed 
 at what she means, and in their envious 
 gabble would prognosticate a year of sects 
 and schisms. — Milton. 
 
 april 1. 
 
 April Fool Dat. 
 Scarcely any thing can be •added to the 
 numerous particulars in the Every-Dai/ 
 Book concerning the customs of to-day. 
 The most popular usage that remains is 
 referred to by the " Spectator," vvhile 
 telling of the Jack Puddings of Eng- 
 land, who made merriment by appearing 
 in afool's coat, and committing blunders : — 
 " But this little triumph of the understand - 
 ' ing, under the disguise of laughter, is no 
 where more visible than in that custom 
 
 which prevails every where among us on 
 the first day of the present month, when 
 every body takes it in his head to make 
 as many fools as he can. In proportion as 
 there are more follies discovered so there 
 is more laughter raised on this day than 
 on any other in the whole year. A neigh- 
 bour of mine, who is a haberdasher by 
 trade, and a very shallow conceited fellow, 
 makes his boasts that for these ten years 
 successively he has not made less than 
 a hundred fools. My landlady had a 
 falling out with him about a fortnight ago, 
 for sending every one of her children upon 
 some sleeveless errand, as she terms it. 
 Her eldest son went to buy a half-penny 
 worth of incle at a shoemaker's ; the eldest 
 . daughter was despatched half a mile to 
 see a monster ; and, in short, the whole 
 family of innocent children made April 
 fools: Nay, my landlady herself did not 
 escape him." 
 
 In some parts of North America the 
 First of April is observed like St. Valen- 
 tine's day, with this difference, that the 
 boys are allowed to chastise the girls, if 
 they think fit, either with words or blows. 
 The practice is referred to in th« following 
 verses by a native, extracted from an Amer- 
 ican Journal. 
 
 April Dav. 
 
 This day to common love is dear. 
 
 And many a tale will sooth tliine ear. 
 Fond hope or frolic wit to prove ; 
 The theme of' minstrelsy I change, 
 I bring a tribute new and strange, 
 
 A tale of hatred, not of love. 
 I love thee not ! — did ever zeal 
 A rarer miracle reveal. 
 
 Thy pity or thy mirth to move ? 
 *Tis true ; — for all thy faults I guess. 
 And strive to make thy beauties less — 
 
 What more is hate, if this be love ? ;■ 
 Thy wit is false ; for, when my cheek 
 Fades with the fear that cannot speak. 
 
 My pangs thy sparkling jest improve ; 
 And, while I tremble, how much guile 
 Lnrks in thy lip and points thy smile — 
 
 The smile which stings, yet wakens love ! 
 Thine eye — a scorching fire is there ; 
 
 For, ^ough I chide, I never dare 
 
 The keenness of its flash to prove. 
 Thy voice has won the Elf-Harp's sound — 
 I hear it, and my tongue is bound. 
 
 Or wanders into words of love. 
 Behold thy faults ! — ^yet keep them all. 
 That I my senses may recall, 
 
 Whenspell-bound in thy sphere they rove ' 
 My malice as thy pride is great — 
 There is no language fits my hate. 
 
 Unless it tells thee — that I love .' 
 
309 
 
 TUB YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 1. 
 
 400 
 
 CRADLE AND CHAIR OF JAMES VI. OF SCOTLAND. 
 
401 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 1. 
 
 402 
 
 The preceding engravings are repre- 
 sentations of the cradle and chair in which 
 James VI. of Scotland was nursed, while 
 under the care of the Earl of Mar, in 
 Stirling Castle. 
 
 These articles of the nursery furniture - 
 of James I. — ^the first of the family of 
 Stuart that ascended the throne of Eng- 
 land — are now in the possession of Lady 
 Frances Erskine. They are of oak ; and 
 the design and carving, of the cradle es- 
 pecially, are affirmed by the gentleman 
 who communicates the sketches to be very 
 beautiful. 
 
 In consequence of their being in a state 
 sf rapid decay, Lady F. Erskine caused 
 drawings of them to be taken by Mr. 
 W. Geikie, the able artist who sketched 
 the spirited figure of " Anan-a-Maut"=in 
 the Table Book. As Archsological curi- 
 osities, which have not been published 
 before, the present inadequate memorials 
 of their form are placed before the reader. 
 
 The eldest oradle of which there is an 
 engraving is the cradle of Henry V., 
 figured by Mr. Fosbroke, who describes it 
 as " a wooden oblong chest, swinging by 
 links of iron, between two posts, sur- 
 mounted by two birds for ornament." In 
 short, that early cradle is of the self same 
 form with the children's cots, now made 
 by the upholsterers, and commonly used 
 in our present nurseries. The cradle with 
 rockers, which, within recollection, was 
 used in all families, is becoming obsolete, 
 except in the dwellings of the poor. The 
 late King George IV., and his brothers and 
 sisters, all the royal family of George III., 
 were rocked. " The rocker" was a female 
 officer of the household, with a salary. 
 One of the most magnificent presents sent 
 from India by Mr. Wai:ren Hastings to the 
 late Queen Charlotte was a cradle, orna- 
 mented with the precious metals, and richly 
 jewelled. 
 
 Mr. Maurice says — " The first of April 
 was anciently observed in Britain as a high 
 and general Festival, in which an un- 
 bounded hilarity reigned through every 
 order of its inhabitants ; for the sun, at 
 that period of the year, entering into the 
 sign Aries, the New Year, and with it the 
 season of rural sports and vernal delight, 
 was then supposed to have commenced. 
 The proof of the gfat antiquity of the 
 
 observance of this annual Festival, as well 
 as the probability of its original establish- 
 ment in an Asiatic region, arises :from the 
 evidence of facts afforded us by Astron- 
 omy. Although the reformation of the 
 year by the Julian and Gregorian Calen- 
 ders, and the adaptation of the period of its 
 commencement to a difiierent and far no- 
 bler system of theology, have occasioned 
 the festival sports anciently celebrated in 
 this country on the first of April to have 
 long since ceased ; and although the 
 changes occasioned, during a long lapse 
 of years, by the shifting of the Equinoc- 
 tial points, have in Asia itself been pro- 
 ductive of important Astronomical alter- 
 ations, as to the exact sera of the com- 
 mencement of the year ; yet, on both 
 continents, some very remarkable traits 
 of the jocundity which then reigned re- 
 main even to these distant times. Of 
 those preserved in Britain, none of the 
 least remarkable or ludicrous is that relic 
 of its pristine pleasantry the general prac- 
 tice of making April-Fools, as it is called, 
 on the first day of that month ; but this, 
 Colonel Fearce (Asiatic Researches, vol. 
 ii. p. 334) proves to be an immemorial 
 custom among the Hindoos." Mr. Mau- 
 rice then inserts the Colonel's account of 
 the " Huli Festival,'' as cited in the ^uery 
 Day £ooA,and adds that " the least enquiry 
 into the ancient customs of Persia, or the 
 minutest acquaintance with the general 
 astronomical mythology of Asia, would 
 have taught Colonel Pearce that the bound- 
 less hilarity and jocund sports prevalent 
 on the first day of April, in England, and 
 during the Huli Festival of India, have 
 their origin in the ancient practice of cele- 
 brating with festival rites the period of the 
 Vernal Equinox, or the day when the new 
 year of Persia anciently began."* 
 
 The "Blackburn Mail," May 10, 1810, 
 contains the following verses : — 
 
 The Okigii. of All-Fool Day, 
 
 Which happened in the Itle of Chieiock, on the 
 1th of the moon Ni-ada, which, in the Euro- 
 p?a» Calender, makes the Fint of April — 
 
 An Eastern Tale. 
 Ye sportive liymphs who on Parnassus play. 
 Though old as ages, — ^yonng and ever gay ! 
 
 • Maurice vi. 71 — 74 : Sketch of the Reli- 
 gion of the Hindoos, ii. 52 — 57 ; cited in Fos- 
 brokc's Enc. of Antiquities. 
 
403 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 1 
 
 404 
 
 O hither wing from Pama's flow'ry side. 
 Through aerial oceans cleave the liquid tide : 
 Peed, feed your vot'ry, while he sounds the 
 
 strings, 
 With gen'rous draughts from Helicon's pure 
 ' springs ! 
 
 In days of yore as orient legends sing, 
 In Chiekock's isle there reign'd a righteous 
 
 king. 
 The heav'nly virtues in his heart were stor n. 
 His subjects lov'd him, and the gods ador'd ; 
 But still, alas ! (no modern deeds to tell) 
 Infernal fiends with heavenly minds r<!bel. 
 Th' enchanter vile, Ciongock, had decreed, 
 No branch should rise of their illustrious 
 
 breed ; 
 His queen was barren in her blooming prime, 
 And doom'd to suffer for her grandsire's crime. 
 At length a heavenly goddess intervenes, 
 Ptaaa, the fair, a friend to virtuous queens. 
 This th' enchanter heard, and, raging wild, 
 Benounc'd destruction on the queen and child. 
 The blue-eyed elves all hailed the happy mom 
 With joys extatic, when the prince was bom ; 
 Their comely queen thrice kiss' d the babe, and 
 
 cries, 
 " Reign like thy sire, be virtuous, just, and 
 
 wise." 
 But soon dark gloom oT)scur'd the blissful day ; 
 High o'er the sofa upon which she lay, 
 The fiend appear'd, a sable.cloud within. 
 With voice terrific and malicious grin. 
 He awful roar'd " Deluded woman, know. 
 That now and henceforth, I will be his foe ! 
 Hertrembling soul could not sustain the fright. 
 But sought the regions of eternal light ! 
 The guardian fair in spite of vengeance smil'd, 
 Vow'd to protect and educate the child ; 
 She kiss'd, she taught, and led the boy to 
 
 fame ; 
 He hopeful grew, I'ScamTtia was his name; 
 With guardian care she reared the youth alone. 
 And plac'd him safe on his paternal throne ; 
 Then scal'd a cloud, ethereal, blue, and bright, 
 And to celestial worlds betook her fiight. 
 
 Within the entrance of his gloomy cell, 
 Respiring vengeance sat the fiend of hell ; 
 High in the air the goddess queen he spies. 
 And shouts of joy re-echo through the skies , 
 " Now, now's the time ! " and then, oa 
 
 triumph bent, 
 A work of mischief was his dire intent. 
 " Yes, feeble mortal ! yes, I'Scamma, know. 
 That now and henceforth I will be thy foe ! 
 The pow'r thou hast shall soon evade thy 
 
 sight. 
 Like fleeting visions of the gloomy night," — 
 Th' enchanter thus, with voice of thunder 
 
 cried ; 
 Three times he laugh'd, and three times nature 
 
 sigh'd ! 
 Then he rose up, through aerial fields he fiew 
 His beaming car, which four grey dragons 
 
 drew; 
 
 His awful flight inspired the earth with dread '. 
 And wild confusion o'er the land was spread ! 
 The roses wither'd and the lilies died. 
 And Flora's train no healing balm supplied ; 
 No tuneful notes through fragrant valleysriing, 
 For terror chaiu'd each feather'd warbler's 
 
 tongue 
 Like Sol's quick rays, the moving clouds he 
 
 drives. 
 And o'er the temple's glittering spires arrives ; 
 He curb'd his steeds, and gnash'd his teeth 
 
 with rage. 
 And dared the youthful monarch to engage. 
 I'Scamma scnrn'd his rising fame to stain. 
 And vow'd to meet him, fearless, on the plain. 
 He hail'd fair Pussa and the heavenly. choir 
 And she appear'd, in clouds of fiaming fire \ 
 With her right hand Ciongock she .defied. 
 And with her left a talisman she tried ; 
 On it " Mamu Amudu" dreadful shone. 
 He saw it and fell headlong from his throne ; 
 But soon arose, and with audacious might. 
 Defied the guardian queen to single fight. 
 Again on high the t^ilisman she held ; 
 Again th' enchanter's vile intent was quell'd 
 Yet hopeful still, and still her pow'r to mock. 
 Transformed himself to an o'erwhelming rock ; 
 But, helpless he ! Mamix Amuda's glow 
 The rock dissolv'd like show'rs of vernal'snow. 
 At last a mighty flood he form'd^ and, sad to 
 
 say ! 
 He, with himself, I'Scamma swept away ! 
 Fair Pussa saw, but saw, alas ! too late ! 
 And all the Island mourn'd their monarch's 
 
 fate ! 
 .His soul celestial sought the high abodes ; . - 
 Pussa enroll'd him in the list of gods. 
 And stemm'd the roaring torrent for his sake ; 
 And there I'Scamma stands, u stagnant lake. 
 Thus fell the best of princes from his throne. 
 But why it liappen'd, know the gods alone. . , 
 On that dread day a hallow'd fast was made. 
 And yearly tributes to his mem'ry paid ; 
 The parents sent their lovely offspring swift. 
 To seek their gud, and ask a yearly gift ; 
 But him they found no*, yet, for his dear sake, 
 Cast stones of vengeance in the stagnant lake. 
 " Go seek I'Scamma," says the virtuous wife, 
 '.' Hell tell thee if I love thee as my life." 
 The husband goes, but him he cannot findt 
 . Yet seeks the lake to ease his vengeful mind. 
 " Go seek I'Scamma of immortal fame," 
 The mother . says, " Thy husband he will 
 
 name ;" 
 The daughter goes ; — no soothing power 
 
 appears. 
 And soon returns dsssolv'd in doubtful tears. 
 
 So did those customs to hismein'ry rise. 
 From babes that lisp, to sages who are wise. . . 
 From Chiekock's Isle, told by some sacred 
 man. 
 The story got abroad, and rearh'd Japan, 
 From thence by story-tellers it was hurl'd 
 Into these islands of the western world • 
 
405 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 2. 
 
 406 
 
 Till in iu progress through the modern school. 
 The hallow'd form were turn'd to ridicule ; 
 And thus the legend of two thousand years. 
 The cause of April AU-fool Dan i^ppears. 
 
 Cardan relates that having found among 
 his father's papers that prayers addressed 
 to the Virgin Mary, on the first of April, 
 at eight in the morning, were of wonder- 
 ful fcfficacy, provided a Pater Noster and 
 Ave Maria were added to them, he made 
 use of this rule of devotion, on the most 
 pressing occasions, " and found it to an- 
 swer perfectly well."* 
 
 ipril 1. Day breaks . 
 Sun rises . . 
 — sets . . . 
 
 h, m. 
 . . 3 32 
 . . S 34 
 . . 6 26 
 
 Twilight ends 
 The ash flowers. 
 Field rush flowers. 
 , Banks are covered with 
 
 . . 8 28 
 primroses. 
 
 mvii 2. 
 
 The Season 
 
 In a we chosen library " Tne Brit- 
 ish Naturalist" claims a distinguished 
 place. Its volume on "The Seasons — 
 Spring and Summer," is now a delight- 
 fiil pocket-companion, and, being on the 
 table at the present moment, afibrds the 
 following passages : — 
 
 On Spring, Birds, Insects, Sec. 
 
 It is difficult to say which of the 
 
 birds is at this early season the most use- 
 ful to man ; they often nip off the buds of 
 trees, but in most instances they thereby 
 cut olf in each bud a whole colony of 
 caterpillars. Buds are never a favorite 
 food with birds, though some of the species 
 that remain with us, or Visit us in the 
 winter months, have recourse to them 
 after all other kinds of food are exhausted. 
 Generally speaking, they are all, however, 
 in quest of insects in some stage or other 
 
 of their existence, in the spring months; 
 and as th^ carry on their hunting with 
 great vigor, until theii broods be able to 
 provide for themselves, they annually cut 
 off as many destroyers as, but for them, 
 would produce famine in the most fertile 
 country. 
 
 The insects which the birds thus con- 
 sume for their, own food at>d that of their 
 callow young, by so many myriads, have 
 no doubt their use in the economy of na- 
 ture, as well as the others. We know that 
 the insects and the parasitical fungi con- 
 sume substances of which the decompo- 
 sition in the air would be disagreeable, 
 because we find that they resort to those 
 substances. It may be, too, that there 
 is some good in the havoc which they 
 commit among the vegetable tribes, how- 
 ever much it may interfere with our opera- 
 tions. The germs of life are so thick 
 every where that there is really no room 
 for them in the worl'd, if the one were not 
 so constituted as to put down the other; 
 one single plant might be made to clothe 
 a wnole country, to the prevention of all 
 other vegetation, in the course of a few 
 years. Were it not for the goldfinches, 
 thistles and ragweed would soon become 
 intolerable ; and, in spite of all the means 
 by which they are destroyed, there js 
 really no place free from the winged 
 seeds of the syngenesiic of Linnaeus. Also, 
 as all the buds and leaves upon a living 
 tree are in a state fit for growing, the 
 pruiiing by the insect, when not carried 
 to excess, may be healthful to it. Before, 
 however, we can make any remarks upon 
 the usefulness of natural objects or events, 
 farther than as they are useful to our- 
 selves, we must know the whole ; and how 
 far we may yet be from that is not a 
 measurable quantity. Still the little that 
 we do know about it is very delightful, 
 and never more so than when the breath 
 of spring first wiles us into the field, 
 wondering at every thing around us. 
 There is a richer tone of color in the sky, 
 and certainly in the clouds ; the air, as it 
 fans the newly loojened earth, is all per- 
 fume, without any of the heaviness of that 
 which comes from particular substances. 
 The tui:ned sod shows us that we have 
 not in all our chemical apparatus an elera- 
 bic like the earth.* 
 
 • Bayle, art. Cardan. 
 
 * British Naturalist, vol. ii. p. 104 — 106. 
 
407 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 2. 
 
 408 
 
 Clear had the day been from the dawn^ 
 
 All chequered was the sky^ ^ 
 Thin cloads^ like scarfs of cobweb lawn^ 
 
 Veil'd heaven's most glorious eye. 
 The wind had no more strength than this. 
 
 That leisurely it blew. 
 To make one leaf the next to kiss^ 
 
 That closely by it grew. 
 The flowers, like brave embroider'd girls, 
 
 Looked as they most desired. 
 To see whose head with orient pearls. 
 
 Most curiously was tyr'd. 
 The rills that on the pebbles play'd 
 
 Might now be heard at will ; 
 This world the only music made. 
 
 Else every thing was still. 
 And to itself the subtle air 
 
 Such sovereignty assumes. 
 That it received too large a share, 
 
 Prom Nature's rich perfumes. 
 
 Drayton. 
 
 Almond-Tree, and Bees. 
 
 Yesterday I had the pleasure to dine 
 with a very amiable and worthy friend at 
 his villa a few miles distant from town ; 
 and, while the company were high iu 
 mirth over the afternoon's bottle, slipped 
 aside to enjoy half an hour's sober thought 
 and salutary air. An almond-tree, in the 
 centre of the garden, presented an immense 
 tuft of flowers, covering its whole surface. 
 Such a glow of floral beauty would at any 
 time have been an object of admiration ; 
 but at a season when every thing else is 
 dead, when not a leaf appears on any of 
 the vegetable tribe besides, and the ad- 
 jacent trees are bare skeletons, it claimed 
 a peculiar share of attention. 
 
 An inquisitive eye loves to pry into 
 the inmost recesses of objects, and seldom 
 fails of a reward more than proportioned 
 to the troubl^ of the research. Every 
 one must have observed, that in all flowers 
 there is an apparatus in the centre, differ- 
 ent from the leafy structure of the verge, 
 which is what strikes the eye at first 
 sight ; the threads which support the yellow 
 heads in the centre of the rose, and those 
 which serve as pedestals to the less 
 numerous, but larger, dusky black ones 
 in the tulip, are of this kind. Formerly, 
 these were esteemed, no more than casual 
 particles, or the effect of a luxuriance 
 from an abundant share of'nourishraent 
 sent up to the leaves of tlie flower, throw- 
 ing itself into these uncertain forms, as 
 they were then esteemed. But science 
 disclaims the supposition of nature's hav- 
 ing made any thing, even the slightest 
 
 particle of the meanest herb, in vain ; and, 
 proceeding on this hypothesis, has dis- 
 covered that the gaudy leaves which were, 
 at one time, supposed to constitute the | 
 essence of the flower, are merely a defence 
 to the thready matter within ; which, de- 
 spised as it used to be, is indeed the ' 
 most essential part of the whole— is that 
 for which almost the whole has been 
 formed, and that alone on which the con- 
 tinuation of the species depends. It has 
 been found that, of the minutest threads 
 in this little tuft, there is not one but has 
 a destined office, not one but joins in the 
 common service; and that, though so 
 numerous and apparantly indefinite, every 
 single flower on the whole tree has pre- 
 cisely the same number to the utmost ex- 
 actness, and precisely in the same situation. 
 Nor is it credible that there ever has been, 
 or ever will be, through successive ages, a 
 tree of the same kind every single flower 
 of which will not be formed with the same 
 perfect regularity. 
 
 In the beautiful Almond-tree before me 
 I saw a confirmation of this accurate ex- 
 actness in the care of providence. Not a 
 flower of the millions that crowded upon 
 the sight in every part but contained the 
 precise number of thirty little threads; 
 and not one of these threads but had its 
 regularly-figured head placed in the same 
 direction on its summit, and filled with a 
 waxy dust, destined for impregnating the 
 already teeming fruit. The fruit showed 
 its downy rudiments in the centre, and 
 sent up a peculiar organ to the height of 
 these heads, to receive the fertilising dust 
 when the heads should burst, and convey 
 it to the very centre of the embrio fruit. 
 
 Such is the economy of nature in the 
 production of these treasures ; but she has 
 usually more purposes than one to answer 
 in the same subject. It was easy to con- 
 ceive, that one of all these little recepta- 
 cles of dust might have contained enough 
 of it to impregnate the kernal of a single 
 fruit, for each flower produces no more. 
 Yet, surely, twenty-nine in thirty had not 
 been created in vain. It was not long 
 before the mystery was explained to me. 
 The sun shone with unusual warmth, 
 for the season, led forth a bee from a 
 neighbouring hive, who directed her course 
 immediately to this source of plenty. The 
 little creature first settled on the top of 
 one of the branches ; and, for a moment, 
 seemed to enjoy the scene as I did. She 
 just gave me time' to admire her sleejc, 
 silky coat, and glossy wings, before she 
 
409 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 2. 
 
 410 
 
 plunged into a fall blown blossom, and 
 buried herself among the thready honors 
 of the centre. Here she wantoned and 
 rolled herself about, as if in ecstasy, a con- 
 siderable time. . Her motions greatly dis- 
 concerted the apparatus of the flower ; the 
 ripe heads of the thready filaments all 
 burst, and shed a subtile yellow powder 
 over the whole surface of the leaves, nor 
 did she cease from her gambols while one 
 of them remained whole, or with any ap- 
 pearance of the dust in its cavity. 
 
 Tired with enjoyment, she now walked 
 out, and appeared to have paid for IhR 
 mischief she had done at the expense of 
 strangely defiling her own downy coat. 
 Though some of the dust from the little 
 capsules had been spread over the surface 
 of the flower, the far greater part of it had 
 evidently fallen upon her own back, and 
 been retained there among the shag of its 
 covering. 
 
 She now stationed herself on the summit 
 of a little twig, and began to clear her 
 body of the newly gathered dust, and it 
 was not half a minute before her whole 
 coat was as clean and glossy as at first : 
 yet it was most singular, not a partide of 
 the dust had fallen upon any of the flowers 
 about her, where it must have been visi- 
 ble as easily as on the surface of that it 
 was taken from. 
 
 A very labored motion of the fore legs 
 of the bee attracted my eye, and the whole 
 business was then immediately explained; 
 I found she had carefully brought together 
 every particle that she had wiped off from 
 her body, and formed it into a mass, which 
 she was now moulding into a firmer tex- 
 ture, and which she soon after delivered 
 to the next leg, and from that, after a lit- 
 tle moulding more, to the hinder one, 
 where she lodged it in a rouud lump in a 
 part destined to receive it; and, having 
 thus finished her operation, took wing for 
 the hive with her load. 
 
 It was now evident, that what had seem- 
 ed sport and pastime was business to the 
 insect ; that its rolling itself about was 
 with intent to dislodge this yellow dust 
 from the little cases that contained it; and 
 that tnis powder, the abundance of which 
 it was easy to perceive could not be creat- 
 ed for the service of the plant, was des- 
 tined to fiimish the bee with wax to make 
 its combs, and to serve us for a thousand 
 purposes afterwards. 
 
 The return of this single insect to the 
 hive sent out a legion upon the same ex- 
 pedition. The tree was in an instant co- 
 
 vered as thick almost with bees as with 
 flowers. All these employed themselves 
 exactly as the first had doue, except that 
 some forced themselves into flowers scarce- 
 ly opened, in which the reservoirs of this 
 waxy powder were not ripe for bursting. 
 I saw them bite open successively every 
 one of the thirty heads in the flower, and, 
 scooping out the contents, add them to 
 the increasing ball, that was to be carried 
 home upon the thigh. 
 
 Such then is the purpose of nature in 
 providing what may appear to us profuse- 
 .ly an abundant quantity of this powder. 
 The bee wants it, and the labour which 
 the iusect employs to get it out never 
 fails to answer the purpose of impregnat- 
 ing the fruit ; for a vast quantity of it is 
 thus scattered over the organ destined to 
 the conveying of it thither. The powder 
 is the natural food of the bee. What is 
 lodged in the hive is ealen by the swarm, 
 and, after it has been retained in the 
 stomach long enough to be' divested of 
 its nutritive qualities, it is d^gorged in a 
 state ready for moulding into real and 
 finished wax. 
 
 In the great chain of beings no one is 
 created solely for itself; each is subservi- 
 ent to the purposes of others ; each, be- 
 sides the primordial ofiice to which it is 
 destined, is a purpose, or means, of gooil 
 to another, perhaps to many. How grati- 
 fied is the mind that comprehends this— 
 how infinite the wisdom of the appoint- 
 ment ! * 
 
 Whale-Fishing. 
 
 Early in April ships are fitted out for, 
 and sail upon their voyages, for whaling 
 adventures in the sea which the fish in? 
 habit. 
 
 There is a bluff' whalers' song, careless 
 in expression, but very descriptive of the 
 occupation ; and, there being nobody to 
 object, we will have it at once from the 
 « Collection of Old Ballads, 1726," iii. 
 172^- 
 
 The Greeklak d Voyage, or the Whale- 
 Fisher's Delight : being a full de- 
 scription of the manner of the taking oj 
 Whales on the coast of Greenland. — 
 Tune. — Hey to the Temple. 
 Why stay we at tome, now the season is come '. 
 Jolly lads let us liquor our throats ; 
 Our interest we wrong, if we tarry too long. 
 Then all hands, let us fit out our boats ■, 
 
 ♦ Sir John Hill. 
 
411 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-.APRIL 2. 
 
 412 
 
 tiet each man prepare 
 
 Of the tackling his share. 
 By neglect a good voyage may be lost : 
 
 Come, I say, let's away. 
 
 Make no stay nor delay. 
 For the winter brings whales on the coast. 
 
 Harry, Will, Robin, Ned, with bold Tom in 
 
 the head. 
 And Sam in the stern bravely stands, 
 As rugged a crew if we give them their due, 
 As did ever take oars in their hands ; 
 
 Such heroes as these 
 
 Will with blood stain the seas. 
 When they join with their resolute mates. 
 
 Who with might void of fright. 
 
 With delight, boldly fight 
 Mighty wales, as if they were but Bprato. 
 
 Come coil in the warp, see the haichets be 
 ' sharp. 
 
 And make ready the irons and lance ; 
 Each man ship his oar, and leave nothing on 
 
 shore 
 That is needful the voyage to advance j 
 
 See the buoy be made tight. 
 
 And the drug fitted right. 
 So that nothing be wanting anon : 
 
 Never doubt, but look out 
 
 Round about ; theres a spout. 
 Come away boy?, let's launch if we can. 
 
 The surf runs too high, 'twill be down by and 
 
 by. 
 
 Take a slatch to go oflF ; now 'twill do ; 
 Huzza ! launch amain, for the sea grows 
 
 again. 
 Pull up briskly a stroke (boys) or two j 
 
 Ha, well rowM ! 'tis enough. 
 
 We are clear of the suflF, 
 A yare hand heave out water apace ; 
 
 There's the whale, that's her back 
 
 That looks black ; there's her wake. 
 Pull away, boys, let's give her a chase. 
 
 Ha ! well row'd jolly trouts, pull away, there 
 
 she spouts. 
 And we gain of her briskly I find ; 
 We're much 'bout her ground, let's take a 
 
 dram round ; 
 And her rising be sure let us mind : 
 
 She's here, just a-head. 
 
 Stand up Tom, puU up Ned, 
 We are fast, back a stern what ye may j 
 
 Hold on lad, I'm afraid 
 
 She's a jade, she's so mad. 
 She's a scragg, for your lives cut away. 
 
 Cut away, row ', she's off, let her go ; 
 Though we met with misfortune already, 
 'Tis courage must do, for the proverb you 
 
 know, 
 A faintheart never won a fair lady, 
 
 ComCj this is no disgrace, 
 
 Pull up lads, another chase. 
 
 Our mates will be fast without doubt , 
 So what cheer ? We are near, ^ 
 
 She IS there ; no, she's here 
 
 Just a stem ; jolly hearts, pull about, 
 
 PuU briskly, for there she's risen very fair, 
 
 Back a-stern, it is up to the strap ; 
 
 Well done Tom, bravely throwed, cheerly 
 
 lads, bravely rowed, 
 'Tis not always we meet with mishap. 
 
 Veer out warp, let her run. 
 
 She will quickly have done ; 
 Well done, mate ; 'twas a brave second stroke ; 
 
 Now she jerks, who can work ? 
 
 Veer out warp, she tows sharp ; 
 Hang the blacksmith ! our launce it is brok?. 
 
 Pull a-head, hale in warp, for she tows not so 
 
 sharp, 
 ghe's beginning to fiounce and to strike ; 
 Fit a launce, let us try if we can by and by 
 Give her one gentle touch to the quick : 
 
 Bravely throwed, jolly lad. 
 
 She is not nigh so mad 
 As she was ; t'other launce may do good , 
 
 Well done Tom, that was home, 
 
 Twas her doom, see her foam. 
 She's sick at the heart, she spouts blood. 
 
 The business is done, launce no more, let's 
 
 alone, 
 'Tis her flurry, she's as dead as a herring ; 
 Let's take her in tow, and all hands stoutly 
 
 row ; 
 And, mate Sam,prythee mind well thy steering, 
 
 The wind begins to blow. 
 
 And the seas bigger grow. 
 Every man put his strength to his oar ; 
 
 Leave to prate, now 'tis late. 
 
 Well rowed mate, hey for. Kate, 
 She's a-ground, cut away, let's ashore. 
 
 Come turn up the boats, let's put on our coats. 
 And to Ben's, there's a cheerupping cup; 
 Let's comfort our hearts, every man his two 
 
 quaits. 
 And to-morrow all hands to cut up ; 
 
 Betimes leave your wives. 
 
 Bring your hooks and your knives. 
 And let none lie a-bed like a lubber ; 
 
 But begin with the sun. 
 
 To have done before noon ; 
 That the carts may come down for the blubber. 
 
 Mr. Scoresby, in his "Account of the 
 Arctic Res:ions," gives an interesting ajid' 
 valuable" history and description of the 
 North Whale Fishery. 
 
 He mentions a curious fact respecting - 
 the redpole, a little bird, familiar to our 
 climate, and vrell known by being caged 
 for its note.' Albin says, " We are not 
 
413 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 3. 
 
 414 
 
 sure that these birds build in England ; 
 they are found here in winter, but go away 
 again in the spring. I never saw or 
 heard of any of their nests being found ; 
 I rather believe they come to shun the 
 cold." Mr. Scoresby seems to decide 
 upon the question of its emigration. He 
 says, " On our approach to Spitzbergen, 
 several of the lesser redpoles alighted on 
 different parts of the ship, and were so 
 wearied apparently with being on the 
 wing, though our distance from the land 
 was not above ten miles, that they allowed 
 themselves to be taken alive. How this 
 little creature subsists, and why a bird of 
 such apparent delicacy should resort to 
 such a barren and gelid country, are 
 
 ?uestions of some curiosity and difficulty, 
 t must be migratory ; and yet how such 
 a small animal, incapable of taking the 
 •water, can perform the journey from 
 Spitzbergen to a milder climate, without 
 perishing by the way, is difficult to con- 
 ceive. Supposing it to take advantage 
 of a favorable gale of wind, it must still 
 be at least ten hours on the wing before 
 it could reach the nearest part of Norway, 
 an exation of which one would imagine 
 it to be totally incapable."* 
 
 hold on my course, by the Cape of Good 
 Hope, till I arrive at the haven of etemall 
 happinesse? — A. Warwick. 
 
 The Red Breast — an Emblem. 
 
 As oft as I heare the robin red-breast 
 chaunt it as cheerfully, in September, the 
 beginning of winter,* as in March, the 
 approach of summer; why should not 
 wee (thinke I) give as cheeriul entertain- 
 ment to the hoary-frosty hayres of our 
 age's winter, as to the primroses of our 
 youth's spring? Why not to the declining 
 sunne in adversity, as (like Persians) to 
 the rising sunne of prosperity.' I am 
 sent to the ant to leame industry ; to the 
 dove to leame innocency ; to the serpent 
 to leame wisdome ; and why not to this 
 bird to learne equanimity and patience, 
 and to keepe the same tenour of my 
 mind's quietnesse, as well at the approach 
 of the calamities of vnnter, as of the springe 
 of happinesse ? And, since the Roman's 
 constancy is so commended, who changed 
 not his countenance with his changed 
 fortunes, why should not I, with a Chris- 
 tian resolution, hold a steady course in all 
 weathers, and, though 1 bee forced with 
 crosse-winds to shift my sailes and catch 
 at side-winds, yet, skillfully to steere, and 
 
 ♦ Scorcsby, i. 5R7 
 
 Jpril 2 
 
 h. m. 
 3 29 
 
 5 32 
 
 6 28 
 8 31 
 
 Day breaks 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 — sets . . 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 White oxalis flowers. 
 Yellow oriental Narcissus flowers. 
 Bulbous crowfoot flowers. 
 A swallow or two may perhaps be seen. 
 
 ^WU 3. 
 
 The Swallow's Return. 
 
 Welcome, welcome, feathered stranger ! 
 
 Now the sun bids nature smile ; 
 Safe arrived, and free from danger. 
 
 Welcome to our blooming isle ; 
 Still twitter on my lowly roof. 
 
 And haii me at the dawn of day, 
 £ach morn the recollected proof. 
 
 Of time that ever fleets away '. 
 
 Fond of sunshine, fond of shade 
 
 Fond of skies serene and clear 
 E'en transient storms thy joys invade. 
 
 In fairest seasons of ike year ; 
 What makes thee seek a milder clime ? 
 
 What bids thee shun the wintry gale ? 
 How knowest thou thy departing time ? 
 
 Hail ! wond'rous bird ! hail, swallow, hail ! 
 
 Sure something more to thee is given. 
 
 Than myriads of the feathered race ; 
 Some gift divine, some spark from heaven, 
 
 That guides thy flight from place to' place 
 Still freely come, stilf freely go. 
 
 And blessings crown thy vigdroua wing ; 
 May thy, rude flight meet no rude foe. 
 
 Delightful Meaenger of Spring ! 
 
 The preceding verses by Mr. William 
 Franklin, a Lincolnshire miller, may 
 welcome a letter from the author of the 
 " History of Morley." 
 
 To Mb. Hone. 
 
 Morley, near Leeds, Yorkshire. 
 
 Sir, — The time is nearly come when we 
 may expect a visit from that most won- 
 derful bird, the swallow. His advent in 
 Yorkshire, as I have noticed for many 
 years, is between the 16th and ,25th of 
 April ; but, with you, in the south, it will 
 be sooner. After perusing, for many 
 years, with much interest, all the accounts 
 
415 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 3. 
 
 416 
 
 and controversies which have been printed 
 respecting this interesting traveller, I 
 must say there is one thing vvith which I 
 have been exceedingly dissatisfied. Not 
 one person, that I know of, has ever ac- 
 counted satisfactorily for these birds being 
 invisible in their migrations to Europe 
 or Africa. We hear or see a few solitary 
 accounts, such as those of Adamson and 
 sir Charles Wager, about their settling on 
 the masts of ships; but these prove little, 
 and, by their infrequency, are rather 
 calculated to excite suspicion ; and have, 
 certainly, produced little conviction upon 
 those who contend that some species (at 
 least) of swallows abide in England all 
 the year. The objection, you see, which 
 perpetually recurs, is this, — " If these 
 birds do really leave us, how comes it 
 that their transits should not have been 
 clearly ascertained by the ocular testimony 
 of observant and distinguished men, ages 
 ago ? How happens it that we should 
 only have the fortuitous accounts of ob- 
 scure and common individuals ? " 
 
 There are other exceptions to migration, 
 taken by the objectors to whom I allude, 
 such as the testimony of people who 
 assert that swallows have been fished up 
 out of water, or found in caves, hol- 
 low trees, &c., and restored, by warmth^ 
 to animation : but, really, Mr. Editor, 
 it appears to me that all this nonsense 
 may be ended at a single blow, by refer- 
 ence to the works of Pennant, and the 
 writings of those eminent anatomists, 
 Messrs. John Hunter and Bell : I shall 
 not, therefore, notice any other than that 
 which appears to me the grand, and very 
 plausible objection ; and this will intro- 
 duce, very naturally, my own opinion, — 
 formed, as far as I know myself, upon 
 observation and reason, and, certainly, 
 not gathered from the deductions of others. 
 
 Every observant man must have re- 
 marked how different are the motions of 
 swallows, when about to disappear, from 
 what they are at other times. — They call 
 together, — they congregate, — they are seen 
 in flocks high in the air, making circum- 
 volutions, and trying, as it were, the 
 strength of their pinions. There seems 
 every preparation for a journey, — for an 
 ascetit into the still higher regions of our 
 atmosphere, — for an ascent, I say, into the 
 calm and quiet regions, where, high above 
 ' those storms which agitate the ocean and 
 the earth, — which would immerse them 
 in the one, or drive them back upon the 
 other; and where, far beyond the ken of 
 
 mortals, they can wing their way under 
 the direction of an unerring guide. Yes 
 — when, during the equinoxial gales, we 
 see the lower clouds flitting over the disk 
 of the sun or moon, — the waves of the 
 sea uplifted, — and the oaks of the forest 
 bending before the blast, — we see, also, 
 the fleecy strata high above the tempest, 
 quiet and unruffled ; and may assure 
 ourselves that, in ethereal space, still 
 higher, the pretty harbinger of the spring 
 sojourns. 
 
 How elevated, sweet, and consoling, 
 are the reflections which naturally arise 
 out of this hypothesis, in the miiid of that 
 man who delights to look through " na- 
 ture up to nature's God." To me, at 
 least (partial as I am to good analogies) ' 
 these pure and peaceful tracts^ with their 
 lovely and innocent travellers^ are em- 
 blematic of that upper and better world, 
 to which the holy and the virtubus ascend 
 when the warring elements of this life are 
 felt no more; and, in the instinct'and 
 formation of the swallow, with the means 
 provided for its safety by a beneficent 
 Creator, I am reminded of the assurance 
 that " not even a sparrow fellfeth to the 
 ground without his permission" by whom 
 "the very hairs of our heads are num- 
 bered." 
 
 Not to trespass much further upon your 
 columns, permit me to observe how well 
 my observations coincide with the account 
 of king James's hawk, at p. 274. If, in 
 ethereal space, a bird of this kind could 
 fly, in a short time, to the Cape of Good ' 
 Hope,^-much less wonderful woald it be 
 for a swallow, undef like circumstances, 
 to reach Africa. 
 
 Yours respectfully, 
 
 NoKEISSON ScATCHERD. 
 March, 1B31. 
 
 h. m. 
 Jpril a. Day breaks ... 3 27 
 
 Sun rises 5 30 
 
 — sets . . . . 6 30 
 Twilight ends ... 8 33 
 Wall-flower flowers generally, though 
 flowers on old plants are often out much 
 earlier. 
 
 Blue houndstongue flowers abundantly. 
 Oriental hyacinth flowers in gardens. 
 Clarimond tulip begins to blow. 
 The golden stars of the pilewort now 
 bespangle shady banks and slopes till 
 May. ^ 
 
417 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 3. 
 
 413 
 
 
 There are seven pillars of Gothic mold, 
 In Chillon's dungeons deep and old, 
 There ire seven columns, massy and gray, 
 Dim with a dull imprison'd ray, 
 A sunbeam which hath lost its way, 
 And through the crevice and the cleft 
 Of the thick wall is fallen and left ; 
 Cre<;ping o'er the floor so damp, 
 Like a marsh's meteor lamp : 
 And in each pillar there is a ring. 
 
 And in each ring ther« is a chain ; 
 That iron is a cankering thing, 
 
 For in these limbs its teeth remain, 
 With marks that will not wear away, ' 
 Till I have done with this new day, 
 Which now is painful to these eyes. 
 Which have not seen the sun so rise 
 For years — I cannot count them o'er j 
 I lost their long and heavy score 
 When my last brother droop'd and died, 
 And I lay living by his side. 
 
 A drawing of the dungeon of Chillon 
 was taken on the spot, in 1822, by W. A. 
 D., jun., who obligingly communicated it 
 
 Vol. I.— 14, 
 
 THE PRISONER OF CHILLON. 
 
 to the Year Book for- its present use. On 
 the pillar to the right is Lord Byron's 
 name, cut deep with a knife by himself 
 
 P 
 
419 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 3. 
 
 420 
 
 before he wrote his poem. Until now, a 
 vi^w of this place has not been published. 
 
 Near this castle Rosseau fixed the catas- 
 trophe of his Eloisa, in the rescue of one 
 of her children by Julia from the water; 
 .he shock of which, and the illness pro- 
 duced by the immersion, caused her 
 ieath. 
 
 It appears, from the notes to " the 
 Prisoner of Chillon," that the castle of 
 Chillon is situated between Clarens and 
 Villeneuve, which last is at one extremity 
 of the lake of Geneva. On its left are 
 the entrances of the Rhone, and opposite 
 are the heights of Meillerie and the range 
 of alps above Boveret and St. Gingo. 
 
 Near it, on a hill behind, is a torrent ; 
 below it, washing its walls, the lake has 
 been fathomed to the depth of 800 feet 
 (French measure) ; within it are a range 
 of dungeons, in which the early reformers, 
 and subsequently prisoners of state, were 
 confined. Across one of the vaults is a 
 beam, black with age, on which the con- 
 demned are said to have been for- 
 merly executed. In the cells are seven 
 pillars, or rather eight, one being half 
 merged in the wall ; in some of these are 
 rings for the fetters and the fettered : in 
 the pavement the steps of Bonnivard have 
 left their traces — he was confined here 
 several years. 
 
 Fran9ois de Bonnivard, son of Louis 
 de Bonnivard, lord of Lunes, was born in 
 the year 1496; he was educated at 
 Turiii : in 1510 his uncle, Jean Aim6 de 
 Bonnivard, surrendered to him the priory 
 of St. Victor, a benefice of considerable 
 importance adjoining the walls of Geneva. 
 
 Bonnivard eminently deserved the ap- 
 pellation of great for rectitude and 
 strength of mind. He united nobleness of 
 purpose, wisdom in counsel, and courage 
 in execution, with variety of knowledge 
 and vivacity of spirit. In endeavoring 
 to secure the liberty of Geneva, he feared 
 not the frequent loss of his own. He 
 surrendered his ease, and expended his 
 wealth, in endeavours to insure the happi- 
 ness of his adopted country, and was 
 cherished as one of her most zealous 
 citizens. He served her with the intre- 
 pidity of a hero, and wrote her history 
 with the truth and simplicity of a philo- 
 sopher and the warmth of a patriot. 
 
 In 1519 Bonnivard, then three and 
 twenty years of age, announced himself 
 
 the defender of Geneva, in opposition 
 to the bishop and the duke of Savoy. 
 The duke being then about to enter 
 Geneva, at the head of 500 men, Bonni- 
 vard justly anticipated. his resentment, 
 and endeavoured to retire to Fribourg ; but 
 vpas betrayed by two men who accom- 
 panied him, and was sent by order of the 
 prince to Grol^e, where he was kept pri- 
 soner for two years. He seems to have 
 escaped from that confinement, and to 
 have been arrested in his flight by thieves, 
 who robbed him at Jura, and replaced 
 him in the hands of his enemies. The ' 
 duke of Savoy ordered him to be shut up 
 in the castle of Chillon, where he re- 
 mained without being interrogated until 
 the year 1536: he was then liberated by 
 the Bernois, who had invaded the Pays 
 de Vaud. 
 
 Bonnivard, on regaining his liberty, 
 had the pleasure of finding that Geneva 
 was free, and had adopted the principles 
 of the Reformation. The republic hast- 
 ened to testify her gratitude for the wrongs 
 ne had suffered in her behalf. He imme- 
 diately received his citizenship, and was 
 presented with the house formerly occu- 
 pied by the vicar-general, and a pension 
 of 200 gold crowns was assigned to him. 
 In the following year he was admitted 
 into the council of 200. 
 
 After having labored to render Geneva 
 free, Bonnivard endeavoured to render her 
 tolerant. He allowed time to the ecclesi- 
 astics, and the people of the country, to 
 examine the propositions he submitted to 
 them, and succeeded by the mildness of 
 his principles ; for he preached the charity 
 of Christianity. 
 
 Bonnivard's manuscripts remain in the 
 public library, and prove that he was well- 
 read in the Latin classics, and was learned 
 both in theology and history. He zeal- 
 ously cultivated the sciences, for which he 
 believed that Geneva would at some time 
 become famous. In 1551 he gave his 
 library to the state, as the commencement 
 for its public library. Among the books 
 are some of the most rare and beautiful. 
 editions of the fifteenth century. In 
 the same year he constituted the republic 
 his heir, on condition that she shouU 
 employ his wealth in maintaining the 
 foundations of the projected college. 
 There is reason to suppose that Bonnivard 
 died in the year 1570, but on account of 
 a deficiency in the necrology, from July 
 1570 to 1571, the date cannot be exactly 
 ascertained. 
 
«21 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APIUL 4 
 
 422 
 
 SONNET ON CHI1.LON. 
 
 Eternal spirit of the chainless mind ! 
 Brightest in dungeons, Liberty ! thou art, 
 For there thy habitation is the heart— 
 The heart vrhich love of thee alone can bind ; 
 
 And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd — 
 To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, 
 Their country conquers with their martyrdom, 
 And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind, 
 hillon I. thy prison is a holy place, 
 And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod. 
 Until his very steps have left a trace 
 
 »Vorn, as if thy cold pavement was a sod, 
 By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface . 
 For they a-ipeal from tyranny to God. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 ^pttl 4. 
 
 On 'he 4th of April, 1823, during the 
 Taunton assizes, intense curiosity was 
 excited by the appearance rf the names 
 of three females in the calendar, on a 
 charge, under lord EUenborough's act, of 
 maliciously cutting and stabbing an old 
 woman, a reputed " witch," with intent 
 to murder her. The grand jury ignored 
 the bill on the capital charge, but return- 
 ed a true bill against the prisoners, Eliza- 
 beth Bryant the mother, aged fifty ; Eliz. 
 Bryant, the younger, and Jane Bryant, 
 ttie two daughters, for having maliciously 
 assaulted Anne Burges. 
 
 Mr. Erskine stated the case to the jury. 
 The reputed witch, Ann Burges, a fine 
 hale-looking old woman, sixty-eight years 
 of age, of rather imposing gravity, de- 
 posed that, on the 26th of November, she 
 went to Mrs. Bryant's house, and "I 
 said, ' Betty Bryant, I be come to ask you 
 a civil question ; whether I bewitched 
 your daughter ? ' — She said, ' Yes, you 
 have,-^you have bewitched her for the 
 last twelve months ;' and she said she 
 was ten pounds the worse of it, and she 
 would be totally d — d if she would not 
 kill me. They all came out together, and 
 fell upon me. The little daughter drew 
 out my arm, and held it whilst one of the 
 others cut at it. The eldest of them said, 
 ' Bring me a knife, that we may cut the 
 flesh off the old wretch's arms.' They 
 tore my arras all over with an iron nail." 
 The old woman described (he manner of 
 the outrage. She was ill from the wounds 
 on her arm. A woman who accompanied 
 her came in and dragged her away, and 
 
 cried out murder, as loud as they could, 
 and a mob assembled in the street, round 
 the door: they did not interfere, but 
 exclaimed that the old woman, on whom 
 the prisoners were exercising their fury, 
 was a witch. The mother, and the elder 
 daughter, held the witness as she struggled 
 on the ground, whilst the younger daugh- 
 ter, with the first instrument that came to 
 her hand, a large nail, lacerated her arm 
 in a dreadful manner. This was done 
 for nearly ten minutes, the mob standing 
 by nearly the whole of the time : and the 
 old woman was rescued only by the vigo- 
 rous efforts of her companion. She did 
 not doubt that if a knife had been in the ' 
 way, when she presented herself at the 
 door, she would have been murdered. 
 
 Cross-examined. — " Do not the people 
 of Wiviliscomb (truly or falsely, I don't 
 say) account you to be a witch ? " 
 
 ■The old woman (with great agitation) — 
 " Oh dear; oh dear ! that I should live 
 to be three score and eight years old, and 
 be accounted a witch, at last. Oh dear ! 
 what will become of me ? " 
 
 " Well, it is very hard, certainly ; but 
 do they not account you to be a witch ? " 
 
 It was some time before the old woman 
 could answer intelligibly that she had 
 never been accounted a witch m her life 
 (God forbid !) by any one, before the pri- 
 soners circulated it about the town that 
 she was, and that she had exercised her 
 infernal influence over one of them. She 
 always tried to live righteously and peace- 
 ably, without doing harm to any one. She 
 was greatly afflicted at the injurious sup- 
 position. 
 
 An apprentice to Mr, North, a surgeon 
 P2 
 
423 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— APRIL 4. 
 
 434 
 
 at Wiviliscomb, deposed that, on the night 
 in question, the prosecutrix came to him. 
 He found her arm dreadfully lacerated. 
 There were fifteen or sixteen incisions 
 upon it, of about a quarter of an inch, 
 and others an eighth of an inch deep, and 
 from two to three inches and three inches 
 and a half long ; she bled very severely ; 
 witness dressed her arm, and, as she was 
 healthy, it got well fast ; but she was ill 
 for more than a month, in consequence 
 of the attack. 
 
 The counsel for the prisoners said he 
 did not mean to deny the fact of the as- 
 sault, but he wished to show the infatua- 
 tion under which they had acted. 
 
 Mr. Erskine said he could adduce 
 evidence which would show the gross 
 delusion under which the prisoners had 
 labored ; and he was perfectly willing 
 that they should have any benefit that they 
 might derive from it. 
 
 An old woman, Elizabeth Collard, was 
 then called, who said she was an acquaint- 
 ance of the elder prisoner, and met her 
 on the morning of the day of the assault, 
 not having seen her before for a long time. 
 The wi tness said, we were talking about our 
 troubles, when she told me that her troubles 
 were greater tljan mine, or any body's 
 troubles, for they were not mortal troubles. 
 She said her daughter had been bewitched 
 for the last twelve months, and that she 
 had been to consult old Baker, the Devon- 
 shire wizard, about her case, who had 
 given her a recipe against witchcraft, 
 and said that blood must be drawn 
 from the witch to break the charm ; she 
 said that old Mrs. Surges was the witch, 
 and that she was going to get blood from 
 her. " She was in such away, that I thought 
 she would have gone immediately to 
 Mrs. Surges, to have drawn blood, but I 
 advised her not, and to let old Baker 
 punish her, if she really was the witch." 
 
 Mr. Justice Burrough. — " Who is old 
 Baker?" 
 
 Witness. — " On! my lord, he is a 
 great conjuror, the people say. He is a 
 good deal looked up to by the poor 
 people in these parts." 
 
 Mr. Justice Burrough. — "I wish we had 
 the fellow here. Tell him, if he does not 
 leave off his conjuring, he will be caught, 
 and charmed in a manner he will not like." 
 
 The witness resumed. — " I pitied the 
 woman, she was in such a world of trou- 
 bles ; and, besides that, she has had a 
 great many afflictions with her family, but 
 she appeared to feel the bewitching of her 
 
 daughter very deeply. I asked how the 
 witchcraft worked upon her, and she told 
 me that, when her daughter was worked 
 upon, she would dance and sing, just as 
 if she was dancing and singing to a fiddle, 
 in a way that there was no stopping her, 
 before she dropped down, when the fiend 
 left her. Whilst the fit was upon her, she 
 would look wished (wild or frighted), and 
 point at something, crying, there she 
 stands ! there she stands ! (the witch). I 
 felt for the daughter, very much. Her 
 state is very pitiable, my lord." 
 
 Mr. Rodgers addressed the jury, in 
 behalf of the prisoners. He said, that to 
 attempt to deny that a verdict of guilty 
 must be given against the miserable fe- 
 males at the bar would be to insult the 
 understandings of the intelligent gentle- 
 men in the box. His observations would 
 be rather for the purpose of showing the 
 unfortunate delusion under which the 
 prisoners had been actuated j the infamous 
 fraud that had been practised upon them ; 
 their miserable afflictions; and to induce 
 the jury to give, with their verdict, a 
 recommendation of mercy to his lordship. 
 
 Mr. Justice Burrough said that course 
 could not be allowed, if the fact were not 
 denied. Any observations in mitigation 
 might be addressed to him after the verdict. 
 
 The jury found all the prisoners guilty., 
 
 Mr. Rodgers, in mitigation of punish- 
 ment, begged his lordship to consider the 
 delusion by which the unfortunate pri- 
 soners had been actuated. 
 
 Mr. Erskine said he should not say a 
 word in aggravation of punishment. He' 
 was instructed by the prosecutors to state 
 that they should feel fully satisfied with 
 any sentence that might have the tendency 
 of preventing the future operation of the 
 belief, in those places where its greatest 
 influence was exercised. 
 
 Mr. Justice Burrough said, if such a 
 fellow as Baker lived in Devonshire, or 
 in any part of the country, and pursued 
 such practices as were ascribed to him, 
 there was a very useful act of parlikment, 
 recently passed, which provided for the 
 punishment of such offences; and his 
 lordship hoped the magistrates of the 
 county would prosecute him, and bring 
 Iiim to punishment. His lordship then 
 addressed the prisoners, and sentenced 
 each to be further imprisoned in the 
 county gaol, for the space of four calendar 
 months. The following are copies of the 
 recipe and charm, against witchcraft, 
 which Baker gave to the poor dupes : — 
 
42S 
 
 THE YEAK BOOK.— APRIL 4. 
 
 426 
 
 " The gar of mixtur is to be mixt with 
 half pint of gen (i. e. gin), and then a 
 table spoon to be taken mornings, at 
 eleven o'clock, four, and eight, and four 
 of the pills to be taken every morning, 
 fasting, and the paper of powder to be 
 divided in ten parts, and one part to be 
 taken every night going to bed, in a little 
 honey." 
 
 " The paper of arbs (herbs) is to be 
 burnt, a small bit at a time, on a few 
 coals, with a little hay and rosemary, and 
 while it is burning read the two first 
 verses' of the 68th Salm, and say the 
 Lord's Prayer after." 
 
 As the preparations had been taken by 
 the ignorant creatures, it could not be as- 
 certained what they were ; but it was 
 affirmed that, after the rites had been all 
 performed, such was the effect upon the 
 imagination of the poor girl who fancied 
 herself possessed, that she had not had a 
 fit afterwards. The drawing of blood 
 from the supposed witch remained to be 
 peifjrmed, in order to destroy her sup- 
 posed influence.* 
 
 Cunning Men 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 The following is a copy of an applica- 
 tion from two " learned clerks" to king 
 Henry VIII., for lawful permission to 
 show how stolen goods may be recovered; 
 to see and converse with spirits, and obtain 
 their services ; and to build churches. It 
 was given to me a few years ago, by a 
 gentleman in the Record office, where 
 the original is deposited. I believe it 
 has never yet appeared in print. The 
 document is signed "Joannes Consell, 
 Cantab ; et Joan. Clarke, Oxonian, A.D. 
 1531." It appears that the license desired 
 was fully granted by the first " Defender 
 of the Faith ;" who indeed well deserved 
 that title, if he believed in the pretensions 
 of his supplicants. A. A. R. 
 
 To King Henry VIII- 
 
 My sufFerynt lorde, and prynce moste 
 gracyus, and of all crystiants the hedde, 
 whych yn this realme of Yngland moste 
 excellent doe dwelle, whoys highness ys 
 mostwoorthyof all due subjection: where- 
 
 * Newspaper of the time. 
 
 fore we, as subjects true, cume unto your 
 majestye moste woorthy, wyllinge to 
 shewe sych cunynge and knowledge, as 
 God of his hyness hath sent and geyven 
 unto us : the wyche shall (whylhe hys 
 infinite grace) pleyse your dygnyte so 
 hey, and be for the comfort and solace off 
 all your realme so ryall. The wyche 
 knowlege, not longe agonne happenyd to 
 us (I trust in God) by good chance and 
 fortune; and to use yt to your noble 
 pleysure yt is very necessary and expe- 
 dient. Truly we have yt not by dayly 
 study and laboure of extronomy, but we 
 have yt by the dylygent laboure and 
 drawyt of others, exelent and perfyt men 
 (as ever was any) of that facultye. Not- 
 withstandyng, we have studeyed the spe- 
 culation of yt by there wrytynge, whyche 
 was dyffyculte and peynfuU for ' us. 
 Wherefore we roykely desire your grace 
 to pardon us to practys the same, not 
 only for the altyed of our mynde, but 
 specyally for your gracyns pleasure; for 
 wythout your pardon yt is unlaueful : 
 neverthelesse, wyth your lycense, yt is 
 marvylus precyus, and of all treasure 
 moste valyant, as the thyng itself dothe 
 shewe, yn the whyche theys sayeng here 
 folowing be conteyned thereyn. 
 
 1. Pryncypally, yt showy s how a man 
 may recover goodys wrongfully taken 
 away ; and yt is true, as the auctor dothe 
 say, the whyche affermys all the woother 
 seyings that we will bryng. 
 
 2. Secondarily ys to procure dygnyte 
 of the sprytes of the ayre. 
 
 3. Thirdly ys to obtayne the treasure 
 that be in the sea and the erthe. 
 
 4. Fourthly ys off a certeyn noyntment 
 to see the sprytys, and to speke to theym 
 dayly. 
 
 5. Fyftly ys to cbnstreyne the sprytys 
 of the ayre to answer truley to suche 
 questions as shall be asked of theym, and 
 in no degree to be dyssetefulle. 
 
 6. Syxtly to have the famylyaryte of 
 the sprytys, that they may serve you 
 bodely, as men, and do your command- 
 ment in all thyngs, wythowt any dyssete. 
 
 r. Sevenly ys to buylde chyrches, 
 bryges, and walls, and to have cognycyon 
 of all scyencys, wythe many woother 
 woorthe things ; the whych ye shall knowe 
 after thys, yf yt pleyse your grace. 
 
 And now, consequently, ye shall here 
 the pystell of freere Roger Bacon, the 
 whych he wrytt lyeingin his dethe bedde, 
 certifeying the faculte that we have spokeyn 
 upon ; and that ys this : — 
 
427 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 4. 
 
 428 
 
 Tke Epistle of Roger Bacon.* 
 
 My beloved brother, Robert Sennahoi,f 
 receive this treasure which even I, brother 
 Roger Bacon, now deliver to thee; 
 namely, the work on necromancy, w. :tten 
 in this little book. It bears the test of 
 truth, for whatsoever was to be found in 
 it I have often proved ; and it is known 
 to every one that I have formerly spoken 
 many wonderful things. And thou art 
 not doubtful, but well assured, that had I 
 not possessed this volume I should never 
 have been able to accomplish any thing 
 important in this particular art. More- 
 over, even now must I declare the same 
 unto thee, for every thing set down in this 
 book doth most plainly avouch itself. 
 Of these my words may the most high 
 God bear witness, and so judge me in 
 the tremendous day when he shall pass 
 sentence. 
 
 And now, oh my sincerest friend Ro- 
 bert, my brother Sennahoi, I entreat 
 thee, that thou wilt most diligently 
 pray to God for me, and particularly, 
 also, for the soul of brother Lumberd 
 Bungey, of my kindred,J who, at my 
 desire, most faithfully translated into the 
 Latin tongue, from the work of holy 
 Cyprian, this same book, which lie also 
 sent to me; and hence it is, that with all 
 my heart I beseech that you will pray, 
 not for me only, but also for him; for 
 indeed I believe that my last hour is close 
 at hand, and that death will forthwith 
 overtake me; therefore in this manner 
 have I written. Not only thee, my dear 
 brother, but even you, all dwellers upon 
 earth, do I implore that you do especially 
 pray that I, and he, and indeed all souls 
 already departed, may be received into 
 calm and quiet repose. This my un- 
 feigned wish have I, thy brother Roger 
 Bacon, written in my ultimate struggle 
 with death, now present with me in my 
 bed. Oh, my most amiable Sennahoi, 
 prosper thou in our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 Again and again I implore thee, that thou 
 suffer not thyself in any manner to forget 
 
 * 1 have ventured to translate this 
 " Epistle," which, in the original document, 
 is in Latiii. A. A. R. 
 
 t I do not recollect meeting with, this name 
 elsewhere. A. A. R. 
 
 X ** Contanguiniiatia meee,^' The friendship 
 of Friar Bacon and Friar Bungey has been 
 familiar to me fron my early childhood ; but 
 I never heard of their relationship until I saw 
 thij letter. A. A. R. 
 
 me, and that thou wilt wholly remember 
 me in all, even thy least prayers and suppli- 
 cations : also, I pray that I may be kept in 
 mind by all good men ; but for this pur- 
 pose, to all of you to whom this work 
 shall come, this same little book (certified 
 to me by Lumberd Bungey) shall fully 
 suffice. And scarcely shall you be able 
 to bring forward one of a more excellent 
 nature, for nothing can be more excellent 
 than it is ; because, whatsoever was foi^ 
 raerly mine, by means of this book did I 
 obtain it. Farewell. 
 
 Charades, Riddles, &c. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 A certain denomination, or heading, ni 
 the Year Book, has brought to my mind 
 a charade which appeared in some publi- 
 cations last year, aiSd which with its three 
 companions form the best set of those 
 kinds of riddles which I have ever read. 
 It is as follows : — 
 
 "^.y first was dark o'er earth and air. 
 
 As dark as she could be ! 
 The stars that gemmed her ebon hair 
 
 Were only two or three ; 
 King Cole saw twice as many there 
 
 As you or 1 could see. 
 " Away, king Cole," mine hostess said, 
 
 "Flagon and cask are dry ; 
 Your nag is neighing in the shed. 
 
 For he knows a storm is nigh,'' 
 She set my second on his head. 
 
 And set it all awry. 
 He stood upright upon his legs — 
 
 Long life to good king Cole ! 
 With wine and cinnamon, ale and eggs. 
 
 He filled a silver bowl ; 
 He drained the draught to the very dregs. 
 
 And he called the draught my whole. 
 
 There can be no doubt of the solution 
 of this, after your recipes for "night caps." 
 Christmas time and winter nights are the 
 proper seasons for riddles, which serve to 
 drive " ennui, thou weary maid," away. 
 
 One of the earliest riddles which we 
 have perhaps on record* is that propounded 
 by the Sphinx, which, if we may believe 
 report, was productive of any thing but 
 mirth to the Thebans. This celebrated 
 enigma, having the Greek before me.f I 
 thus translate : — 
 
 * The very ancientest I find by the Every- 
 Day Booh, vol. 2, 26, is in Judges xiv. 14 — 18. 
 
 t Brunck's Sophocles, just before CEdipiu 
 Tyrannus, 
 
429 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 5, 6. 
 
 43Q 
 
 There is a thing on earth that hath two feet. 
 
 And four, and three (one name howe'er). 
 Its nature it alone of earthly things. 
 
 Of those thatswim the deep and fly the air. 
 Doth change ; and when it rests upon most 
 
 feet. 
 Then (strange to tell !) then are its steps less 
 fleet. 
 
 For which puzzling enigma CEdipus 
 returns an answer, which runs thus, — 
 Listen, unwilling, ill-starred bird awhile. 
 List to my voice which ends thy dreadful guile. 
 Thou meanest man, who just after his birth. 
 Like animals, four-footed, crawls the earth ; 
 But, being old, takes, as third foot, a staff. 
 Stretching his neck, by old. age bent in half. 
 
 Since the time of the Theban CEdipus, 
 how many enigmas, and various kinds of 
 riddles, have been invented ! The letters 
 of the alphabet have proved a fruitful 
 source ; witness lord Byron's celebrated 
 enigma on the letter H. Then the one 
 on O, and a pithy one on E, which for 
 its shortness 1 give: — 
 The beginning of eternity, the end of time 
 
 and space. 
 The beginning of every end, and the end of 
 
 every place. 
 
 PiLGARLIC. 
 
 April 4, 
 
 Day breaks . . 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 Twilight ends 
 Starch hyacinth flowers. 
 Crown imperial in full flower. 
 Great saxifrage begins to flower. 
 
 h. m. 
 3 24 
 
 5 28 
 
 6 32 
 8 36 
 
 On the 5th of April, 1603, James VI. 
 left Scotland to ascend the English throne, 
 under the title of James I., upon the 
 death of queen Elizabeth, who, by her 
 will, had declared him her successor. 
 The letter from the council, communi- 
 cating this fact, was addressed " Right 
 high, right excellent, and mighty prince, 
 and our dread sovereign Lord." 
 
 h. m. 
 April 5. Day breaics ... 3 21 
 Sun rises ... 5 26 
 — sets .... 6 34 
 Twilight ends . - 8 39 
 Dogs-tooth violet is in full blow in the 
 gardens. 
 The black-cap arrives. 
 
 ^vvil 6- 
 
 On tneeth of April, 1199, died Riclnrd 
 I., commonly called Coeur de Lion He 
 was the first king of England who applied 
 the plural term to the regal dignity. 
 
 Bertrand de Born, a trbubaaour so 
 early as the last half of the twelfth cen- 
 tury, refers to Richard Coeur de Lion in 
 the verses below, by this appellation — 
 
 " The Lord of Oc and No.'' 
 The beautiful spring delights me weu. 
 
 When flowers and leaves are growing ; 
 
 And it pleases my heart to hear the swel 
 
 Of the birds' sweet chorus flowing 
 
 In the echoing wood ; 
 
 And I love to see, all scattered around, 
 
 Pavilions, tents, on the martial ground ; 
 
 And my spirit finds it good 
 To see, on the level plains beyond. 
 Gay knights and steeds caparison'd. 
 
 It pleases me when the lancers bold 
 
 Set men and armies flying ; 
 A nd it pleases me to hear around 
 
 The voice of the soldiers crying ; 
 And joy is mine 
 When the castles strong, besieged, shake, 
 And walls, uprooted, totter and crack; 
 
 And I see the foemen join, 
 Ou the moated shore all compassed round 
 With the palisade and guarded mound. — 
 
 Lances and swords, and stained helms. 
 And shields dismantled and broken. 
 On the verge of the bloody battle scene. 
 The field of wrath betoken j 
 
 And the vassals are there. 
 And there fly the steeds of the dying and dead- 
 Aud, where the mingled strife is spread. 
 
 The noblest warrior's care 
 Is to cleave the foeman's limbs and head, 
 ' The conqueror less of the living than dead. 
 
 I tell you that nothing my soul can cheer. 
 
 Or banqueting, or reposing, 
 Like the onset cry of " Charge them " rung 
 
 From each side, as in battle closing, 
 Where the horses neigh. 
 And the call to " aid " is echoing loud ; 
 And there on the earth the lowly and proud 
 
 In the foss together lie ; 
 And yonder is piled the mangled heap 
 Of the brave that scaled the trench's steep. 
 
 Barons ! your castles in safety place, 
 
 Vour cities and villages too. 
 Before ye haste to the battle scene ; 
 
 And, Papiol ! quickly go. 
 And tell the Lord of " Oc and No " 
 That peace alieady too long hath been I * 
 
 » Talcs of the Minnesingers. 
 
431 
 
 THE YEAR BOaK.— APRIL 6. 
 
 13* 
 
 CURIOUS TREE, NEAR LOOSE, IN KENT. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 I have heard tliat Master Isaac Wal- 
 ton's "Angler" proved a good physician 
 in a recent case, vfhen medicine had done 
 its worst. A lady, hypochondriacally 
 affected, was enahled, through its perusal, 
 to regain or obtain that serenity which dis- 
 tinguished its worthy author, and which she 
 had lost. And who can dwell on those 
 pastoral scenes wherein he expatiates, 
 without acknowledging their renovating 
 influence, and living them over again ! I 
 defy any one, who has heart and eyes, to 
 con over the passage subjoined, without 
 a feeling of the fresh breeze rushing around 
 him, or seeing the fleet clouds chase one 
 another along the sky, as he drinks in the 
 varied sounds of joy and gratulation with 
 which the air is rife. 
 
 "Turn out of the way a little, 
 
 good scholar," says the conteraplatist, 
 
 " towards yon high honey-suckle hedge ; 
 there we'll sit and sing, whilst this shower 
 fells so gently on the teeming earth, and 
 gives yet a sweeter smell to the lovely 
 flowers that adorn these verdant meadows. 
 Look ! under that broad beech-tree I sat 
 down when I was this way a fishing ; and 
 the birds in the idjoining grove seemed to 
 have a friendly contention with an echo, 
 whose dead voice seemed to live in a hol- 
 low tree near thp brow of that primrose- 
 hill. There I sat viewing the silver streams 
 glide silently towards their centre — the 
 tempestuous sea, yet sometimes opposed 
 by rugged roots and pebble stones, which 
 broke their waves and turned them into 
 foam." 
 
 The magic of these lines lies in their 
 artlessnessj they are poetry or prose, as 
 the reader pleases, but, whether he wills it 
 
433 
 
 TilE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 6. 
 
 434 
 
 or not, they are " afier natBre.'' And 
 surely there are many others who, like 
 honest Isaac, can find " tongues in trees'' 
 as they lie dreaming in their summer 
 shade, and see " the brave branches fen 
 the soft breeze as it passes, or hear the 
 leaves whisper and twitter to each other 
 like birds at love-making." Nor are those 
 few who have sat entranced beneath the 
 friendly shelter of some twilight bower, 
 listening to the "rocking windj" till sud- 
 denly it has died away, and is succeeded 
 by the still shower, rustling on their leafy 
 covert ; and, as the serene and tender sun- 
 gleams steal again through the twinkling 
 thicket, have risen from their sojourn, 
 mightier and better men, to go forth 
 " musing prai3e, and looking lively grati 
 tude." 
 
 Such has been oftentimes my experi- 
 ence ;and very probably considerations of 
 this kind possessed me as, wearied by a 
 long walk, I sat down in a fresh- flowing 
 meadow to make the sketch copied in the 
 engraving which precedes this article. It 
 represents the twin-trunks of an alder, 
 growing near the pretty " rivulet that 
 losetb itself under ground, and rises again 
 at Loose, serving thirteen mills," men- 
 tioned in the annotations to Camden's 
 Britannia.* Both trunks spring from the 
 same root, and may have been at one time 
 united ; but a fissure having been made, 
 possibly for some such superstitious pur- 
 pose as that mentioned in the Table Book 
 (vol. ii. col. 465), but more probably by 
 accident or decay, the living bark has 
 closed round the separate stems, and given 
 them the singular appearance of entire and 
 independent trees, growing very lovingly 
 side by side. D. A. 
 
 In 1827' many of the trees in Camber- 
 well Grove, Surrey, which had died from 
 unknown causes, were doomed to fall. 
 One of these, a leafless, leprous thing; 
 remained standing for some time after its 
 brethren had been felled, presenting an 
 appearance strikingly picturesque. The 
 fact is mentioned in a note to the following 
 poem, from an unpretending little work, 
 with the title of « Bible Lyrics and other 
 Poems." 
 
 The Last of tue Leafless.. 
 Last of the leafless ! withered tree ! 
 
 Thou shalt not fall unsung. 
 Though hushed is now the minstrelsy 
 
 That once around thee rung : 
 
 •Kent, in describing the course of the Medway. 
 
 The storm no more 'thy scourge shall be^ 
 
 The winds of heav'n thy tongue ' 
 Yet hast thou still a lively part. 
 Within one wayward rhymester's heart. 
 
 And in thy bare and sapless crest 
 
 His dreaming fancy sees 
 More beauty than it e'er-possest, 
 
 "When, shiv'ring in the breeze. 
 The sun stole through its summer vest. 
 
 To light thy brethren trees. 
 And thoughts came o'er him in his trance. 
 Too deep for mortal utterance. 
 
 Like Moses on the desert strand. 
 
 Unmoved at Egypt's boast. 
 When God revealed his mighty hand 
 
 ■To guard the favor'd coast : 
 Spared in the wreck thou seem'st to stand 
 
 Amidst a fallen host. 
 Rearing thy powerless arm on high. 
 To call down vengeance from the sky. 
 
 Or, like' some heart-sick exile here, 
 
 Despising Mammon's leaven, 
 " The fear of God his only fear"— 
 , His only solace — heaven ! 
 Thou standest desolate and drear. 
 
 Blasted and tempes r ven ; 
 Triumphant over every ill. 
 And seared, yet "looking upward" s'ill. 
 
 Preserved whilst thousands fall away. 
 
 The sun-beam shall not smite 
 That homeless sojourner by day, 
 
 Or baleful moon by night ; • 
 
 So whilst those hosts that round thee lay 
 
 Attest the spoiler^s might. 
 Like him whose •• record is on high," 
 To thee no deadly hurt comes nigh ! . 
 
 Yet thou must perish, wither'd tree ! 
 
 But shalt not fall unsung. 
 Though hushed is now the minstrelsy 
 
 That once around thee rung j 
 The storm no more thy scourge shall be. 
 
 The winds of heav'n thy tongue : 
 Yet hast thou still a lively part 
 Within one wayward rhymester's heart. 
 
 I desire to increase the calm pleasures 
 of my readers, by earnestly recommending. 
 " Bible Lyrics, and other Poems," whence 
 the preceding verses are taken. If one 
 competent judge, who purchases this little 
 five shilling volume, should differ with me 
 in opinion concerning its claims to a place 
 in the book-case, I am content to abstain 
 from all claim to regard, and not to 
 urge my notions on subjects of criticism. 
 
 On the 6th of April, 1695, died, at the 
 age of eighty-nine. Dr. Richard Busby, 
 the celebrated master of Westminster 
 school. He educated most of the erai- 
 
435 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— APlllL 7. 
 
 436 
 
 nent men who filled the great offices of 
 state about the period he flourished. They 
 regarded him as their father, though a 
 severe one ; and he obtained a prebend's 
 stall at Westminster. 
 
 Dr. Robert South, the son of a Lon- 
 don merchant, was educated at West- 
 minster school, by Dr. Busby, who, 
 finding him idle but able, disciplined him 
 into learning, by which he rose to emi- 
 nence. South shone as a polite scholar, 
 and a brilliant wit. Swift left his wit at 
 the church porch ; South carried it into 
 the pulpit. It is said that he could " be 
 all things to all men." He preached for 
 and against the Independents and Pres- 
 byterians, but adhered to the church 
 when it became triumphant. He was 
 the panegyrist of his highness Oliver, 
 lord protector, and after his death treated 
 him with sarcastic irony, in a sermon 
 before Charles II., who, pleased and 
 turning to Rochester, said, " Ods fish, 
 Lory, your chaplain must be a bishop ; 
 remind me when a vacancy offers." He 
 talked of wearing the " buff coat" for 
 James II. against Monmouth, and, in 
 James's distress, " the divine assistance," 
 assisted to seat William III. upon 
 James's throne. Yet he was not co- 
 vetous. iThe canonry of Christ Church, 
 a stall at Westminster, the rectory of 
 Islip, and a Welsh sinecure, were all the 
 preferments he would accept. Their re- 
 venues were too confined for his libe- 
 rality ; and he gave away part of his pa- 
 ternal patrimony so secretly that it could 
 never be traced. He valued an old hat 
 and staff which he had used for many 
 year-, and refused not only a mitre but 
 even archiepiscopal dignity. He was an 
 able controversialist, but not in the habit 
 of commencing or declining controver- 
 sies. He bore a long and painful ma- 
 lady with cheerful fortitjide, and died at 
 the age of eighty-three, on the 8th of 
 July, 1716. He was publicly buried 
 with great honors to his memory. Many 
 of his sermons are excellent. 
 
 h, m. 
 April 6. Daybreaks . . 3 19 
 
 Sun rises .... 5 24 
 — sets . . . . 6 36 
 Twilight ends . . 8 41 
 Grape hyacinth, and most of the 
 hyacinths and narcissi, blow fully in the 
 gardens. 
 
 april 7. 
 
 On the 7th of April, 1786, the cele- 
 brated catacombs of Paris were conse- 
 crated with greai solemnity. 
 
 For many centuries Paris had only one 
 public place of interment, the " Cemetery 
 des Innocens," originally a part of the 
 royal domains lying without the walls, 
 and given by one of the earliest French 
 kings as a burial-place to the citizens, in 
 an age when interments within the city 
 were forbidden. Previously to the conver- 
 sion of this ground into a cemetery, indi- 
 viduals were allowed to bury their friends 
 in their cellars, courts, and gardens ; and 
 interment's frequently took place in the 
 streets, on the high roads, and in the pub- 
 lic fields. Philip Augustus enclosed it, 
 in 1186, with high walls, and, the popula- 
 tion of Paris gradually increasing, this ce- 
 metery was soon found insufficient. In 
 1218 it was enlarged by Pierre de Ne- 
 mours, bishop of Paris, and from that time 
 no further enlargement of its precincts 
 was made. Generation after generation 
 being piled one upon another within the 
 same ground, the inhabitants of the 
 neighbouring parishes began, in the fif- 
 teenth century, to complain of the great 
 inconvenience and danger to which they 
 were exposed ; diseases were imputed to 
 such a mass of collected putrescence, 
 tainting the air by exhalations, and the 
 waters by filtration; and measures for 
 clearing out the cemetery would have 
 been taken in ,the middle of the sixteenth 
 century, if disputes between the bishop 
 and the parliament had not prevented 
 them. To save the credit of the burial- 
 ground, a marvellous power of consuming 
 bodies in the short space of nine days 
 was attributed to it. Thicknesse speaks 
 of several burial-pits in Paris, of a pro- 
 digious size and depth, in which the 
 dead bodies were laid side by side,without 
 any earth being put over them till the 
 ground tier was full : then, and not till 
 then, a small layer of earth covered 
 them, and another layer of dead came on, 
 till, by layer upon layer, and dead upon 
 dead, the hole was filled. These pits 
 were emptied once in thirty or forty years, 
 and the bones deposited in what was 
 called " le Grand Chamier des Innocens," 
 an arched gallery, which surrounded the 
 burial-place. The last grave-digger, Fran- 
 f ois Pontraci, had, by his own register, in 
 less than thirty years, deposited more 
 than 90,000 bodies in that cemetery. It 
 
437 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 7 
 
 438 
 
 was calculated that, since ihp time of 
 Philip-Augustus, 1,200,000 bodies had 
 been interred there. 
 
 In 1805 the council of slate decreed 
 that the " Cemetery drs Innocens " should 
 be cleared of its -Inad, and converted 
 into a market-place; after the canonical 
 forms, which were requisite in such cases, 
 should have been observed. The arch- 
 bishop, in conformity, issued a decree for 
 the suppression and evacuation of the ce- 
 metery. The work went on without in- 
 termission, till it was necessarily sus- 
 pended during the hot months; and it 
 was resumed with the same steady exer- 
 tion as soon as the season permitted. The 
 night-scenes, when the work was carried 
 on by the light of torches and bonfires, are 
 said to have been of the most impressive 
 character : nothing was seen save crosses, 
 monuments, demolished edifices, excava- 
 tions, and cotBns — and the laborers 
 moving about like spectres in the lurid 
 light, under a cloud of smoke. 
 
 It fortunately happened that there was 
 no difficulty in finding a proper re- 
 ceptacle for the remains thus disinterred. 
 The stone of the ancient edifices of Paris 
 was derived from quarries opened upon the 
 banks of the river Bifevre, and worked from 
 time immemorial without any system,every 
 man working where and how he would, 
 till it became dangerous to proceed far- 
 ther. It was only known as a popular 
 tradition that the quarries extended under 
 great part of the city, till the year 1774 ; 
 when some alarming accidents aroused 
 the attention of the government. They 
 were then surveyed, and plans of them 
 taken; and the result was the frightful 
 discovery that the churches, palaces, and 
 most of the southern parts of Paris were 
 undermined, and in imminent danger of 
 sinking into the pit below thqm. A spe- 
 cial commission was appointed in 1777, 
 to direct such works as might be re- 
 quired. The necessity of the undertaking 
 was exemplified on the very day that the 
 commission was installed : a house in the 
 Rue d'Enfer sunk ninety-one feet below 
 the level of its court-yard. Engineers 
 then examined the whole of the quarries, 
 and propped the streets, roads, churches, 
 palaces, and buildings of all kinds, 
 which were in danger of being engulphed. 
 It appeared that the pillars which had 
 been left by the quarriers in their bliud 
 operations, without any regularity, were 
 in many places too weak for the enormous 
 weight above, and in most places had 
 
 themselves been undermined, or, perhaps, 
 had been e ected upon ground which had 
 previously been hollowed. In some in- 
 stances they had given way, in others the 
 roof had dipped, and threatened to fall ; 
 and, in others, great masses had fallen in. 
 The aqueduct of Arcueil, which passed 
 over this treacherous ground, had al- 
 ready suffered shocl^s, and an accident 
 must, sooner or later, have happened to 
 this water-cour.se, whicli would have cut 
 off its supply from the fountains of 
 Paris, and have filled the excavations 
 with water. 
 
 Such was tne state of the quarries 
 when the thought of converting them 
 into catacombs originated with M. Le- 
 noir, lieutenant-general of the police. 
 His proposal for removing the dead from 
 the Cemetery des Innocens was easily 
 entertained, because a receptacle so con- 
 venient, and so unexceptionable in all 
 respects, was ready to receive them. That 
 part of the quarries under the Plaine de 
 Mont Souris was allotted for this purpose ; 
 a house, known by the name of " la 
 Tombe Isoire," or Isouard, (from a fa- 
 mous robber, who once infested that 
 neighbourhood), on the old road to Or- 
 leans, was purchased, with a piece of 
 ground adjoining; and the first operations 
 were to make an entrance into the quar* 
 ries by a flight of seventy-seven steps, 
 and to sink a well from the surface, down 
 whiph the bones might be thrown. Mean- 
 time, the workmen below walled off that 
 part of the quarries which was designed 
 for the great charnel-house, opened a com- 
 munication between the upper and lower 
 vaults, and built pillars to prop the roof. 
 When all these necessary preliminaries 
 had been completed, the ceremony of 
 consecrating the intended catacombs was 
 performed, and on the same day the re- 
 moval from the cemetery began. 
 
 All the crosses, tombstones, and monu- 
 ments which were not reclaimed by the 
 families of the dead, to whom they be- 
 longed, were carefully removed, and 
 placed in the field belonging to la Tombe 
 Isoire. Many leaden coffins were buried 
 in this field ; one of them contained the 
 temainsof Madame de Pompadour. Thus 
 far things were conducted with the greatest 
 decorum ; but, during the revolution, la 
 Tombe Isoire was sold as a national do- 
 main, the leaden coffins were melted, and 
 all the monuments destroyed. The cata- 
 combs received the; dead from other ce- 
 meteries, and served also as receptacles 
 
439 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— Af RIL 7. 
 
 440 
 
 for those who perished in popular com- 
 motions or massacres. 
 
 Upon the suppression of the convents 
 and various churches, the remains disco- 
 vered in them were removed and de- 
 posited in this immense charnel-house, 
 i3Ut, from the breaking out of the revolu- 
 tion, the works were discontinued, and so 
 much neglected, that, in many places, the 
 soil fell in, and choked up the communi- 
 cations ; water entered by filtration ; the 
 roof was cracked in many places, and 
 threatened fresh downfalls ; and the bones 
 themselves lay in immense heaps, min- 
 gled with the rubbish, and blocking up 
 the way. In 1810 a regular system of 
 piling up the bones in the catacombs was 
 adopted. To pursue his plans, the work- 
 men had to make galleries through the 
 bones, which, in some places, lay above 
 thirty yards thick. It was necessary also 
 to provide for a circulation of air, the at- 
 mosphere having been rendered unwhole- 
 some by the quantity of animal remains 
 which had been introduced. The manner 
 in which this was effected was singularly 
 easy. The wells which supplied the 
 houses above with water were sunk below 
 the quarries, and formed, in those exca- 
 vations, so many round towers. M. de 
 Thury merely opened the masonry of 
 these wells, and luted into the opening 
 the upper half of a broken bottle, with 
 the neck outwards; when fresh air was 
 wanted, it was only necessary to uncork 
 some of these bottles. Channels were 
 made to carry off the water, steps con- 
 structed from the lower to the upper ex- 
 cavation, pillars erected in good taste to 
 support the dangerous parts of the roof, 
 and the skulls and bones were built up 
 along the walls. 
 
 There are two entrances to the cata- 
 combs, the one towards the west, near the 
 barrier d' Enfer, by which visitors are ad- 
 mitted ; and the other to the east, near 
 the old road to Orleans, which is appro- 
 priated to the workmen and persoiis at- 
 tached to the establishment. The staircase 
 descending to the catacombs consists of 
 ninety steps, and, after several windings, 
 leads to the western gallery, which is 
 under, and in a perpendicular line with 
 trees on the western side of the Orleans 
 road. From this gallery several others 
 branch off in different directions. That by 
 which visitors generally pass extends 
 along the works beneath the aqueduct 
 d' Arcueil, and brings them to the gallery 
 du Pont Mahon. A soldier, named D6- 
 
 cure, who had accompanied marshel Ri- 
 chelieu in his expedition against Minorca, 
 being employed in those quarries, disco- 
 vered a small excavation, to which he 
 sunk a staircase, and descended there to 
 take his meals, instead of accompanying 
 the other workmen above ground. In his 
 leisure hours, D^cure, who had beeii long 
 a prisoner at the forts of the Port Mahon, 
 employed himself, from 1777 to 1782, in 
 carving a plan of that port. When it was 
 finished, he formed a spacious vestibule, 
 adorned with a kind of Mosaic of black 
 flint. To complete his work, this inge- 
 nious man determined to construct a 
 staircase, but, before he had completed it, 
 a mass of stone fell, and crushed him so 
 seriously as to occasion his death. The, 
 following inscription, upon a tablet of 
 black marble, is placed in the gallery du 
 Port Mahon :— 
 
 Cet ouvrage fut commence en 1777, 
 
 Par D^cure, dit Beausejour, V6tcran 
 
 de Sa Majcst^, et fini en 1782. 
 
 Ddcure's stone table and benches are 
 still preserved in the quarry which he 
 called his saloon. At a short distance 
 from this spot are enormous fragments of 
 stone (Logan-stones ?) so nicely balanced, 
 on a base hardly exceeding a point, that 
 they rock with every blast, and seem to 
 threaten the beholder. About a hundred 
 yards from the gallery du Port Mahon, we 
 fall again into the road of the catacombs 
 On the right side is a pillar formed of dry 
 stones, entirely covered with incrustations 
 of gray and yellow calcareous matter ; 
 and 100 yards further on is the vestibule 
 of the catacombs. It is of an octagonal 
 form. On the sides of the door are two 
 stone benches, and two pillars of the Tus- 
 can order. 
 
 The vestibule opens into a long gallery, 
 lined with bones from the floor to tVie 
 roof. The arm, leg, and thigh bones are 
 in front, closely and regularly piled toge- 
 ther, and their uniformity is relieved by 
 three rows of skulls at equal distances. 
 Behind these are thrown the smaller bones. 
 
 This gallery conducts to several rooms, 
 resembling chapels, lined with bones va- 
 riously arranged ; and in the centre, or in 
 niches of the walls, are vases and altars, 
 some of which are formed of bones, and 
 others are ornamented with skulls of dif- 
 ferent sizes. Some altars are of an an- 
 tique form, and composed of the solid 
 rock. 
 
 Among the ornaments is a fountain, in 
 which four golden fish are imprisoned. 
 
441 
 
 THE YilAJl BOOK.— APRIL 7. 
 
 442 
 
 They appear to have grown in tliis unna- 
 tural situation ; three of them have re- 
 tained their brilliant color, but some 
 spots have appeared upon the fourth, 
 which render it probable that exclusion 
 from light may produce, though more 
 slowly, the same effect upon them that it 
 does upon vegetables. The spring which 
 rises here was discovered by the work- 
 men ; the basin was made for their use, 
 and a subterranean aqueduct carries off 
 the waters. 
 
 The different parts of the catacombs 
 are named, with strange incongruity, from 
 the author or the purport of the inscrip- 
 tion which is placed there. Thus, there 
 is the Crypta de la Verity, the Crypta de 
 la Mort et de 1' Eternity, and the Crypta 
 de Neant, the AU^e de Job, and the 
 Crypte de Caton, the Crypte de la Resur- 
 rection, and the Crypte de la Fontaine. 
 Virgil, Ovid, and Anacreon have each 
 their crypts, as well as the prophets Jere- 
 miah and Ezekiel ; and Hervey takes 
 his place with Horace, Malherbes, and 
 Jean-Baptiste Rousseau. The inscriptions 
 arc numerous. 
 
 Tie album which' is kept at the cata- 
 combs is not a little characteristic of the 
 French nation ; it contains a great many 
 effusions of sentiment, a few of devo- 
 tional feeling, and numerous miserable 
 witticisms and profligate bravadoes. 
 
 There are different calculations as to 
 the number of bones collected in the ca- 
 tacombs. It is, however, certain that they 
 contain the remains of at least 3,000,000 
 of human beings. 
 
 Two cabinets have been formed by M. 
 de Thury, in this immense depository of 
 the dead. One is a mineralogical collec- 
 tion of all the strata of the quarries; the 
 other is a pathological assemblage of dis- 
 eased bones, scientifically arranged. There 
 is likewise a table, on which are exposed 
 the skulls most remarkable either for their 
 formation, or the marks of disease which 
 they bear. 
 
 In the month of April, 1814, the Rus- 
 sian troops formed a camp in the plain of 
 Mont Sourls. As soon as they learned 
 that the catacombs were beneath it, they 
 inspected the entrance, and eagerly visited 
 the vast subterranean sepulchre. In 
 passing through the various galleries they 
 manifested close observation, and ex- 
 pressed sentiments of piety. The cata- 
 combs are objects of visit and investiga- 
 tion with all curious travellers.* 
 
 • History of Paris, iji. 324—352, 
 
 Caution to Maidebs. 
 
 Doete de Troies, a lady of the thirteenth 
 century, is presumed to have written the 
 following verses :— 
 Wlien comes the beauteous summer time. 
 
 And grass grows green once more. 
 And sparkling brooks the meadows lave 
 
 With fertilizing power ; 
 And when the birds rejoicing sing 
 
 Their pleasant songs again. 
 Filling the vales and -woodlands gay 
 
 With their enlivening strain ; 
 Go not at eve nor morn, fair maids. 
 
 Unto the mead alone. 
 To seek the tender violets blue. 
 
 And pluck them for your own ; 
 For there a snake lies hid, whose fangs 
 
 May leave untouch'd the heel. 
 But not the less — O not the less. 
 Your hearts his power shall feel.* 
 
 April 7, 1738, died John King, a ce- 
 lebrated printseller in the Poultry. He 
 left behind him a property of £l 0,000. It 
 would be pleasant to collectors to know 
 more of his profession, from Peter Stent, 
 George Humble, and others in the reigns 
 of Charles I. and II. In that of William 
 III. John Bullfinch flourished ; and 
 Granger mentions Rowlet, as selling the 
 print of Dobson : but the celebrated 
 mezzotinter Smith was a kind of mono- 
 polizer of the trade. John Overton, of 
 whom there is a portrait, at the age of 
 sixty-eight, in 1708, appears to have 
 succeeded him as, in his day, the prin- 
 cipal vender of engravings. Granger 
 conjectures Overton to have been de- 
 scended from the family of a place of 
 that name in Hants, but Noble imagines 
 that he was in some way concerned with 
 Scott, who was the most eminent book- 
 seller in Europe, and resided in Little 
 Britain, then the grand emporium for 
 books of every description. Several of 
 the trade were men of learning ; and 
 there the literati went to converse with 
 each other. They could do this nowhere 
 so well as at Overton's; especially if they 
 wished to know any thing relative to 
 foreign literature, as he had warehouses 
 at Frankfort, Paris, and other places. He 
 contracted with Herman Moll, of St. 
 Paul's Church Yard, to purchase his 
 trade ; but, Moll failing, he lost half the 
 £10,000 he owed him. The next great 
 printseller, after King, was Mr. John 
 Bowles, at the Black Horse, in Comhill, a 
 catalogueofwhose maps, prints, &c., dated 
 
 * Lays of the Minnesingers, 
 
443 
 
 THE YEAR DOOK. -Al'RIL 8 
 
 444 
 
 1764, shows that he had a considerable 
 stock ; and it is well known that he left a 
 large property. He removed from Corn- 
 bill; and the Gentleman's Magazine thus 
 notices his death : — " April 8,1757, died 
 Mr. Thomas Bowles, the great printseller, 
 late of St. Paul's Church Yard." 
 
 Black Lettea. 
 The late Mr. Bindley, chairman of the 
 Board of Stamps, was one of the most 
 diligent bibliomaniacs. At the sale of his 
 collection, many rare books, which he had 
 picked up for a few shillings, sold for 
 more than the same number of pounds 
 Herbert's "Dick and Robin, with* songs, 
 and other old tracts, 1641," which cost 
 him only 2s., was bought by Mr. Heber 
 for £10. A volume, containing Patrick 
 Hannay's " Nightingale, and other poems, 
 with a portrait of the author, and a. por- 
 trait of Anne of Denmark, by Crispin de 
 Pass, 1622," bought for 6s., was sold for 
 £35. 14s. Five of Robert Green's pro- 
 ductions, which altogether cost Mr. Bind- 
 ley only 7s. 9d., brought £41. 14s. An 
 account of an " English Hermite, or 
 Wonder of his Age, 1655," one " Roger 
 Crab, who could live on three farthings a 
 week, consisting of four leaves, with a 
 portrait," sold for £5. 10s. A short his 
 lory of another prodigy, Mr. Marriot, 
 " The Cormorant, or Great Eater, of 
 Gray's Inn," who always ate twelve 
 pounds of meat daily, 1652, brought 
 £14. 14s.; and Leuricke's " Most Won 
 derful and Pleasaunt History of Titus 
 and Gisippus," 1562, a poem of only tea 
 pages, and a contemptible but extremely 
 rare production, sold for £24. 13s. 6d. 
 
 LiTEEAEY Blunders, &c. 
 
 A gentleman, who inherited from his 
 father a considerable library, observed to 
 Mr. Beloe, the bibliographer, that Mr. 
 " Tomus, " whose name was on the back 
 of many of the books, must certainly 
 have been a man of wondrous erudition to 
 have written so much ! 
 
 Mr. Forsyth, in his " Beauties of Scot- 
 land," says, the Scotch have carried the 
 practice of cultivating mosses to a great 
 extent. He means reclaiming them. "The 
 Irish," says the author of " Thoughts on 
 the State of Ireland," " are now happily in 
 the way of cementing all their old dif- 
 ferences." 
 
 A theological commentator praises pro- 
 vidence for having made the largest rivers 
 flow close to the most populous towns. 
 
 Auctioneers are capital blunderers. 
 They frequently assume the privilege of 
 breaking Priscian's head ; and very droll 
 are the flourishes they sometimes make. 
 It is now "a house within itself ; " and if 
 " an unfinished one — with other conveni- 
 ences." A " sale of a nobleman " is com- 
 mon with them ; and they have frequently 
 " a cabinet secretary" to sell. A work- 
 ing table for your wife, they call a " ma- 
 hogany lady's." Ask them what sort of a 
 library is for sale, and they will answer 
 gravely, " a library of books." They call 
 household furniture, which is the worse 
 for wear, " genuine ; " a collection of cu- 
 riosities, " a singular melange of items ;" 
 any thing costly, " perfectly unique ; " 
 gaudiness, " taste ; " and gilding, " virtii " 
 
 h. m. 
 April 7. Daybreaks . . . 3 16 
 Sun rises .... 5 22 
 — sets .... 6 38 
 Twilight ends ... 8 44 
 Wood anemone fully flowers. 
 Large daffodil comes into flower. 
 Ramshoms, or male orchis, flowers. 
 
 aptil 8. 
 
 April 8, 1663, is the date of t.ie first 
 play bill that issued from Drury Lane 
 Theatre. 
 
 [Copy.] 
 By his Majesty his Company of 
 Comedians, 
 at the New Theatre, in Drury Lafie, 
 This day, being Thursday, April 8, 1663, 
 will be acted 
 a Comedy, called 
 The Hvmovkovs Lievtenant. 
 The King . . . Mr. Wintersel. 
 Demetrivs . . . Mr. Hort. 
 Selerivs . . Mr. Bvrt. 
 
 Leontivs . . . Major Mahon. 
 Lievtenant . . . Mr. Glyn. 
 Celia . . . Mrs. Marshall. 
 
 The Play will begin at 3 o'clock exactly. 
 Boxes 4s., Pit 2s. 6d., Middle Gal- 
 lery, Is. 6d., Upper Gallery, Is. 
 
 The Tenth Wave (see p. 31.) 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 Sir Thomas Browne's assertion upon 
 this matter has been strongly controverted 
 by many writers, and suppbrted by others, 
 between whose opinions I shall not pre- 
 tend to decide. The last place in which 
 
445 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— APRIL 8. 
 
 446 
 
 I have met with an allusion to the idea 
 is in Maturin's Sermons, where occurs the 
 figurative expression " the tenth wave of 
 human misery.'' His volume, travelling 
 across the Atlantic, caused the subject to 
 he discussed in America, as appears by 
 the subjoined extract from the New York 
 Gazette. August 5, 1823 : — 
 
 " Hartford, August 4. 
 "The tenthWave. — An expression in one 
 of Mr. Maturin's works to this effect, the 
 ' tenth wave of human misery,' induced a 
 gentleman who communicated the result 
 in a Boston paper last summer to watch 
 and see if the largest and most over- 
 whelming wave was succeeded by nine 
 and only nine smaller ones, and he satis- 
 fied himself that such was the fact. But 
 this seems to be no new thought of Mr. 
 Maturin. A valued friend has turned us 
 to two passages in Ovid, in which he ex- 
 pressly mentions the phenomenon. One 
 is in his Tristia Elegia 2, lines forty-ninth 
 and fiftieth. 
 " Qui venit hicflucius, flucha supereminet am- 
 
 the 
 the 
 
 Posteriur nono esl, undecimoque prior." 
 Meaning a wave which succeeds 
 ninth, and (of course) precedes 
 eleventh, overtops the others. 
 
 « The other is in the Metamorphoses, 
 book 11th, line 530. 
 
 ' Vastius instagens dedmae ruit impetus undts. 
 Or, in other words, the force of the 
 tenth wave is greater than that of any 
 other. 
 
 " We should like to know if it be true, 
 and, if so, what is the reason of it. Per- 
 haps some friend of ours, who may visit 
 the sea shore for his health or amusement 
 this season, may furnish us with an 
 answer to one or both of these questions. 
 It is- not an idle subject; for it is well 
 known that landing through the surf is 
 dangerous, and, if it be ascertained that 
 this is true, it may save some boats and 
 some lives." 
 
 Staffordshire Moorlands. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 wave is to be seen I am well assured. At 
 the conclusion of my " Ornithologia," 
 page 434, under the head Valedictory 
 Lines, is a note relative to this subject 
 which perhaps you will be good enough 
 to transfer to your pages. It is true an 
 impertinent, and, I will add at the same 
 time, ignorant critic, in the Hew Monthly 
 Magazine, thought proper some years ago 
 to animadvert on this allusion of mine to 
 the tenth wave in no very courteous or 
 measured terms ; but the everlasting laws 
 of nature are not to be overturned by 
 critics, who know little or nothing about 
 those laws. 
 
 The tenth wave has excited the atten- 
 tion of the poets. Maturin somewhere 
 speaks of the tenth wave of human mi- 
 sery. In turning over lately some of our 
 older poets, I met with an allusion to the 
 ninth wave ; in whose works I do not now 
 recollect. Ovid alludes to it in his 
 Tristia Elegia 2, and also in his Metamor- 
 phoses, lib. xi. ; but what he says it is not 
 necessary here to repeat. 
 
 This notion of the tenth wave has long 
 oeen entertained by many persons conver- 
 sant with the sea-shore : I have often heard 
 it when I was a boy, and have repeatedly 
 watched the waves of the sea, when break- 
 ing on the shore (for it is to this particu- 
 lar motion that the tenth wave, as far as I 
 know, applies), and can state that, when 
 the tide is ebbing, no such phenomenon as 
 the tenth wave occurs; but wlien the 
 tide is flowing, some such is often ob- 
 servable; it is not, however, invariably 
 the tenth wave : after several smaller un- 
 dulations, a larger one follows, and the 
 water rises. This is more distinctly seen 
 on a sandy or smooth muddy shore, of 
 more or less flatness. 
 
 As names in authentication of facts are 
 of some importance, I add mine to this 
 communication. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Jas. Jehkihos. 
 March 1831. 
 
 In the Year Book, page 31, is an al- 
 lusion to the tenth wave. Whatever 
 might have been the knowledge and ex- 
 perience of Sir Thomas Browne, it is not 
 necessary here to enquire; but that, very 
 often, such a ohenomenon as the .enth 
 
 April 8. 
 
 b. ni 
 Day breaks . . ■ 3 13 
 Sun rises . . . 5 20 
 
 - - sets .... 6 40 
 Twilight ends . . 8 47 
 The Van Thol tulip is in full flower, 
 while the standard tulips remain, as yel, 
 unfolded. > 
 
447 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 9. 
 
 448 
 
 glpril 9. 
 
 Rafiaello Sanzio the eminent painter, 
 was born April 9th (March 28th, O. S.) 
 1483, at Urbino in the states of the church. 
 His father was himself a painter,, though 
 an indiiferent one. Raphael, while yet 
 a boy, took leave of his parents, with great 
 fondness on both sides, to go under the 
 care of Pietro Perugino, one of the earliest 
 masters of modern art. Pietro's style was 
 crude and monotonous, but he had a 
 talent for expression, and thus the finest 
 part of his disciple's genius remained un- 
 injured; he afterwards introduced his old 
 master by his side, in his famous picture 
 of the school of Athens. On quitting 
 Perugino, he designed at Sienna; but 
 was drawn to Florence, by the fame of 
 Da Vinci and Michael Angelo. After 
 improving his manner by the admiration 
 of their works, he fell with equal Zealand 
 patience to the study of the ancient sculp- 
 tures ; and formed a style of sweetness and 
 power which placed him on the throne 
 of his art. His genius was original, easy, 
 and fertile. His fame was at its height in 
 his life-time; and he lived to see his school 
 support it. His disciples, one of whom 
 was the famous Giulio Romano, were so 
 attached to him, that they followed him 
 about like a guard of honor. He was 
 one of the most handsome, graceful, and 
 good-tempered of men. His life was 
 comparatively short, and apparently full 
 of pleasing images. His death is said to 
 have been owing to the mistaken treat- 
 ment of a nervous fever, but it is under- 
 stood that his intense sense of the beautiful 
 devoured him; yet, in some of his works, 
 there is great absence of the love of 
 rural nature. In his picture of Parnassus, 
 instead of a luxuriance of laurel-trees, in 
 the back ground, he has divided it into 
 
 three uniform parts witli three little patches 
 of them, and the Castalian stream issues 
 out of an absolute rain-spout. As a 
 painter of humanity, in all its varieties of 
 thought as well as beauty, he was never 
 approached. The translation of his works 
 upon copper is more difficult than that of 
 most painters, because he deals so much 
 in delicacy of expression .* 
 
 Art in the CiTir. 
 In the present year, 1831, many private 
 lovers of art have a.ssociated with its pro- 
 fessors, in the midst of the metropolis, 
 under the denomination of " The City of 
 London Artists and Amateurs' Conver- 
 sazione." The meetings of this society 
 are held in the evening at the London 
 Coffee-house, Ludgate-hill ; and" at each 
 meeting there is a succession of fresh and 
 delightful specimens of drawing, painting, 
 and sculpture. A guinea a year, which is 
 the sole expense, constitutes a member, 
 with certain privileges of introduction to 
 the friends of members. So laudable and 
 spirited a purpose in behalf of art in the 
 city has the strongest claims on residents. 
 Strange to say, this is the first endeavour 
 to form an occasional association of artists 
 and amateurs eastward of Temple Bar. 
 The meeting on the 17th of March was 
 highly gratifying ; another on the 23d of 
 April closes the season until the winter. 
 
 Jpril 9. 
 
 h. m. 
 3 11 
 
 5 18 
 
 6 42 
 8 49 
 
 Day breaks 
 Sun rises . . 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends . 
 Moorwort flowers. 
 
 Primroses and dog-violets flower on 
 every roadside bank, and slope. 
 
 * The Indicator. 
 
 Violets. 
 
 Not from the verdant garden's cultured bound. 
 That breathes of Paestum's aromatic gale. 
 We sprung ; but nurslings of tlie lonely vale, 
 'Midst woods obscure, and native glooms were found . 
 'Midst woods and glooms, whose tangled brakes around 
 Once Venus sorrowing traced, as all forlorn 
 She sought Adonis, when a lurking thorn 
 Deep on her foot impress'd an impious wound. 
 
 Then prone to earth we bowed our pallid flowers, 
 And caught the drops divine ; the purple dyes 
 Tinging the lustre of our native hue : 
 
 Nor summer gales, nor art-conducted showers, 
 Hav« nursed our slender forms, but lovers' sighs 
 Have been our gales, and lovers' tears our dew 
 
 Lorenzo cle Medici, by Mr. Roscoe. 
 
449 
 
 THE YEAR. BOOK.— A.JRIL 5. 
 
 450 
 
 THE RAVEN AT HOOK, HANTS. 
 
 A correspondent who made the sketch,* 
 ohligingly transmitted it for the present en- 
 graving, with this intimation, that it repre- 
 sents "the old Raven Hostelrie"at Hook, 
 on the great western road between Mur- 
 rell-green and Basingstoke. The house, 
 which faces the south, was built in 1653; 
 the original portion now standing is the 
 kitchen and stair-case; and this kitchen 
 is remarkable for having been the tempo- 
 rary resideace of " Jack the Painter," the 
 • incendiary who fired Portsmouth dock- 
 yard, on the 7th of December, 1776. 
 
 The real name of this man was James 
 Aitken ; he was also called Hill, otherwise 
 Hind. He seems to have acquired the 
 appellation of " Jack the Painter" from 
 having been apprenticed to a painter at 
 Edinbui^h, where he was born, in Sep- 
 
 • W. A. D. Jan., who likewise communi- 
 cated his drawing of the Prison of Chillon, 
 engraved at p. 
 Vol I.— 15 
 
 tember, 1752. At the age of twenty-one 
 curiosity led him to take a voyage to 
 America. He traversed several of the 
 colonies, working at his trade ; left Ame- 
 rica in March, 1775; and, in October 
 following, enlisted at Gravesend, as a 
 soldier, by the name of James Boswell, 
 in the thirty-second regiment. Thiswas 
 during the war with Amerita, towards 
 which country he conceived strong parti- 
 ality. His military life was brief, and spent 
 in deserting and enlisting into" different 
 regiments, and devising means for destroy- 
 ing the English dock-yards. The fire 
 which he effected at Portsmouth dock-yard 
 broke out in the upper loft of the rope- 
 house. It was discovered and c^uenched 
 soon after it broke out, but not before 
 it had effected considerable damage ; and, 
 though the fire was presumed to have been 
 iqaljciously done, there was no clue to 
 the fact until more than a month after- 
 wards, when, in the great hemp-house, 
 
 / Q 
 
4il 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 10. 
 
 452 
 
 there was discovered a tin box, peculiarly 
 constructed, with matches partly burnt, 
 and spirits of wine at the bottom. This 
 box was found in the centre of a large 
 quantity of combustible substances , from 
 too much hemp having been placed over 
 it, the air had become excluded, and the 
 matches had gone out for want of air; 
 had they burnt down to the spirits of wine, 
 the whole place would have been in a 
 blaze, and stores destroyed sufficient for 
 the rigging of fifty sail of the line. 
 
 It appears that the night after this nefa- 
 rious act he left Portsmouth, for London, 
 and went to doctor Bencraft, a gentleman 
 in the American interest, living in Down- 
 ing-street, to whom he hinted what he had 
 done, and what further he designed. He 
 was repulsed by the doctor, and, quitting 
 London without money, broke into^ and 
 robbed a house at High Wycombe, went 
 to Oxford, where he ineffectually attempt- 
 ed two others, and succeeded in enter- 
 ing one at Fairford, which he plundered 
 of goods, about fifty shillings in money, 
 and a metal watch. The watch he dispos- 
 ed of at Bristol, where he meditated in- 
 cendiary purposes, but, not finding things 
 to his mind, went on to Plymouth, with 
 a design to set fire to the dock-yard there. 
 He scaled the top of the wall, on two 
 different nights, but, upon hearing the 
 watchmen in conversation each time, ho 
 abandoned the attempt, and returned to 
 renew his design upon Bristol. 
 
 Bristol quay was then crowded with ship- 
 ping, and he secretly boarded, in the night 
 timi, the Savannah la Mar, near the crane, 
 and the ship Fame at another part'of the 
 quay, and set them on fire. The flames 
 were almost immediately discovered and 
 extinguished, or vessels to an immense 
 talue would have been burned. The 
 watch in this port was afterwards so strict, 
 that he could not effect his villany by 
 boarding the shipping ; but he lingered in 
 that city, and marked a stable on the 
 quay, in order to set fire to it, with the 
 hope of the flames communicating to the 
 merchantmen. This, however, he desist- 
 ed from, at the moment he was about to 
 enter, in consequence of- observing a 
 man lying in a cart near the place, He 
 was more successful, in Quay-lane, where 
 he introduced a quantity of combustibles, 
 Tvhich he fired by means df a slow match, 
 and instantly left the town. On looking 
 back^ and not seeing the flames asciend, 
 he returned part of the way, till he heard 
 an alarjn oJ the city being on fire. Upon 
 
 this news he retraced his steps to Sodbury, 
 and crossed the country, through Mash- 
 field and Chippenham, to Calne, where 
 he broke open a house, and then quitted 
 the town, leaving a pistol, with other 
 things in a parcel, in the church-porch. 
 
 These incendiary acts, in time of war, 
 alarmed the whole nation, and government 
 offered a reward of £500 for their disco- 
 very : certain circumstances occasioned 
 " Jack the Painter" to be suspected as the 
 perpetrator. He was sought and traced, 
 and taken prisoner in the kitchen of the 
 " Raven at Hook," while handing ablack- 
 jack of foaming ale among the other fre- 
 quenters of the house. Upon his trial at 
 Winchester Assizes, on the 6th of March, 
 1 777, the chief witness against him was one 
 Baldwin, who had visited him in prison, 
 and to whom he had disclosed the manner 
 of his setting fire to the rope-house at 
 Portsmouth. Upon this testimony, which 
 was amply corroborated, he was found 
 guilty, and received sentence of death. 
 On the 10th of the same month he was 
 executed at the dock-gates,, on a gibbet 
 sixty-four feet and a half high, formed 
 from the mizen-mast of the Arethusa, and 
 afterwards hung in chains on Blockhouse 
 beach. He behaved with decency, seemed 
 penitent, acknowledged the justness of 
 his sentence, and advised the government 
 to vigilance. 
 
 The damage effected at Portsmouth, by 
 this criminal,' is said to have amounted 
 to £60,000,.. He was led, from his trial, 
 through the dock-yard, and shown the 
 devastation he had caused. Some years 
 after his execution a, party of sailors, took 
 down his skeletoni placed it ia a, sack, 
 and left it chimney in the corner of a 
 public-house at Gosport.* 
 
 '^vvil 10. 
 
 April 10, 1730, died' at Vienna, agedTS', 
 Prince Eugene, a celebrated commander 
 in conjunction vfith the greoit duke of 
 Marlborough of the allied krmies. He 
 was so popular in England that a maiden 
 lady bequeathed to him., £5500 and i 
 gardener £100. 
 
 St. Helen's church, at Wofcestfir, 
 has a set of bells castin the time of queen 
 Anne, with names and insertions which 
 1-ecord' the victories gaihed int that refgp, 
 as follow:^— 
 
 • Aaii. KegiMen Gents Mag., Univ., Mag. 
 Slight'* '^hronioUs of FortsmQulib, 1828i, 
 
J!.M 
 
 tHE YEAR BOOK.— At'RlL lo. 
 
 1. Sknheim. 
 First is my note, and iSlcnheim is iny name ; 
 Kof fileDheim's stoiy will bo first in famii 
 
 2. Barcelona. 
 Let tsa Irelate bOw Loais did bemoan 
 His grandson Philip's flight from Barcelon. 
 
 3 Rdniiliet. 
 Dehiged in lilo6d, I, Ramilie§, advAD^ 
 Brit^Anie'i gtoiy on ttie fall it Fiance. 
 
 4. Menin. 
 Let Menin on my sides engraven be ; 
 And glanders freed from Gallic slavery. 
 
 6. Turin. 
 Wheq in ^atmonious peal I roundly ga^ 
 Think on Turin, and tiiumphB on the Po. 
 
 6. EugenSi 
 With joy I hea* illtk^trions EagfrnS'S name j 
 fiVrite of fbttune and the boast of fame. 
 
 T. Marlborough. 
 
 But I for pride, the greater Marlborough bear ; 
 Terror of tyrants, and tke soul of war. 
 
 8. Q^een Anne, 
 The iibltioVt^ ^aS^s of qufeeb A&iie I sound, 
 With unloB irliSt,- and all these glories 
 crowned. 
 Hie inscriptions on tbe^e bells are 
 dated 1706, except (hat on the seventh, 
 vhich is dated 1712. 
 
 Li*Su4et6t« Bells. 
 £For the Yekr Boot.] 
 I can see no reason why the pompons 
 •' lords of the oresttion " (as we call our- 
 selviffi) should monopolize tjtb noblest en- 
 dowments, as -well as the choicest trea- 
 sures, of nature; I can ftnd no sufiEcient 
 argtiment for believing lihat every talent 
 vrhich adorns humanUy most of necessity 
 be confined to Jranianity r-'-Kian nothing 
 else in life -walk on two legs, ihecause man 
 has only two to walk upon? JMay 
 nothing else io the -atiiverse speak a #t>rd, 
 because he lias " the gift of the gab ? "— 
 Such a creed is as caoseless as it is Con- 
 ceited. 
 
 Nature, ay ! and feveft att, Step forwatd 
 to huuihle his pride and pfesurfiption ; 
 the veiy works of his own liands emulate 
 his boasted powers, and claim that rank 
 HI the vast scale sf being from which iiis 
 favorite and fashionable " exclnsiveness " 
 Would eovioutsiy n^ct them. Han boasts 
 of him% tbd <oaly creature eodowed tritb 
 language'; while a mere piece of machi- 
 nery, an inanimate beM, has oftett bfiin 
 khovm td hold forth mosft sellable di$- 
 «oucsiflg ! We all know a bell has a long 
 
 454 
 
 tongue, then why shoiild it hot etopltiy it 
 articulately? What though its head he 
 empty ! TIM is but Iht peculiarity of 
 itibst of our verbose defclaimei's ! I shall 
 proceed to instance a few cases of un- 
 doubted credibility, vthSfe belli have 
 tinkled ill human phraseology : I say but 
 ifext) cases ; for, wete I to pfoUhC* all the 
 jgobd things they have said, I should com- 
 plete another tblufte of BeWi Litters, 
 inasmuch as there is liot a church bell in 
 the world but what has ioU'd something 
 to soinebbdy ! 
 
 Wej all of us, have heird 6f the plea- 
 sant and encouragiti* dsunsel which the 
 iaetty bells df LOhtfon gave to the de- 
 Sp6ndi«g Whittington. " Tul-n again 
 Whitting^bnj lord mayor of London," 
 sung the tuneful peal : fee tiitntd, and 
 was lord tiiayof Of Lgn4oa to his heart's 
 Content. (I believi he h«ia the office 
 four times.) So t6a(Ai re-speet has been 
 ^id to the Words of TOCdl bells, thkt 
 their ftSpSfiSes bate frequently been con- 
 sidered pei'fectly oraculat. 
 
 When poM Panurge is (Veiy reason- 
 ably) perplexed upon the hazardous sub- 
 ject of inatfimony, and iS Consulting 
 every variety of diviftation,anxiously Idiig- 
 ing to divine that his lot wM be keieo^ty, 
 *' Heailcen," quoth Ftiar JoTin, t* tftfe 
 Oracle df the Bells of Varenesj what 
 say they?" «I heai" and tiftderStattd 
 theni>" qUoth Panurge, " theiT soniid is. 
 By my thirst, more uprightly fatiditfil 
 than that sf Joise's Great Kettles in Do- 
 dona. Heiirken, ' Take thee a m^e^take 
 thee a toj/e, and marry, marry, marry ; for 
 if thou marry thou shedtfind good fhifein, 
 herein, herein u ■wife, thou shaltfind good ; 
 so marry, marry, marry.'* I wiU assure 
 £hee I will be married I" But a short 
 lime after, when the JFriar had descaritcd 
 upon the certainty at liis belii^ unfor- 
 tunate in Jiis connubial choice, the omen- 
 ous peal rang with a sadder s'igniScatiDn; 
 " In good faith," ^aid i'anurge, " I s,peak 
 now seriousW unto thee, Friar Jbhnj I 
 think it will be tte best not to marry: 
 hearken to what the liells do tell mp, now 
 that we are nearer to fhem : ' JJo not 
 marry; marry «a<> not, itot, mi, not; 
 marry, itiarfy not, not, not, not, not : ^ 
 thou marry, thou wilt miscarry, carry, 
 carry, fhoi^lt repent it, resent it,' te, 8a, 
 
 * Rabdais, book iii. lehJkp. 27 and 28. How 
 codld a wife tslkijn upon Such lecammesdation 
 prove other than an old viken 1 She neiidi 
 mast be a Betdam ! 
 
 Q3 
 
455 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-APRIL 10. 
 
 456 
 
 We are informed in the " Menagiana,''* 
 that this pleasant episode is copied frqui a 
 sermon of John Rolinus, doctor of Paris, 
 &c., monk, of Cluny — on widowhood. 
 In the doctor's discourse it was told of a 
 certain widow, who went to consult the 
 curfi of her parish, lyhether she should 
 marry her servant. The cur^, like a wise 
 man, always gave her tnat advice which 
 he saw she was pre-determined to follow : 
 and at last referred her to the bells of the 
 church to settle the doubtful question. 
 The bells rang, and the widow distinctly 
 heard them say, " Prends ton vdet,prends 
 ton valet " (Take your servant, take your 
 servant), and accordingly she submitted to 
 their better judgment, and married him. 
 Unfortunately, however, the servant proved 
 a bad master to his mistress, and the good 
 woman went immediately to reproach the 
 curfi for his infamous conduct ! He ex- 
 cused himself by declaring she must have 
 misunderstood the monition of the bells; 
 he rang them again, and then the poor 
 lady heard clearly, " Ne le prends pas ; 
 ne le prends pas " (don't take him, don't 
 take him). 
 
 The latter version of the story has been 
 cast into English metre, and cooked up 
 into, a capital comic song, well known to 
 all frequenters of melodious meetings, 
 concerting clubs, and harmonic Aassem- 
 blies. The burden of the song explains 
 to us the reason of the bells chiming with 
 such a different meaning : 
 
 " As the bell tinks^ so the fool thinks. 
 As the fool thinks, so the bell tinks ;" 
 
 and, furthermore, gives us the important 
 and interesting information of the name 
 of the servant whom the good widow 
 wedded : it was John. Well indeed has 
 it been observed that the English borrow 
 nothing of foreign origin, without leaving 
 it vastly improved ! 
 
 The poets are under (and confess it) the 
 greatest obligation to the garrulity of 
 bells ; to the professors of the " bell- 
 science " (as poetry was wont to be called), 
 the bells relax their accustomed brevity of 
 speech, and become diffuse and anecdoti- 
 cal : thus sings the first living poet of the 
 day; "the first," do I say? ay! he is 
 More. 
 
 • Menagiana, 63, in " Table Talk," Con- 
 stable's Miscellany, vol. &. I should have 
 Maagined that a bell could not avoid giving an 
 approving omen : I should have thought a 
 dapper mutt applaud! 
 
 " Those evening bells, those evening bells, - 
 How many a tale their music tells. 
 Of youth and hope, and that sweet tim 
 When first I heard their soothing chime."* 
 
 There is but one more instance which I 
 shall produce of a bell holding rational 
 discourse with a poet; but it is one in 
 which the language it employed was with- 
 out ambiguity, and the result of which 
 was of the greatest importance to the 
 listener, and of eminent advantage to the 
 literary world. To the advice of a bell we 
 are indebted for the beautiful poem of the 
 "King's Quair." The amiable and un- 
 fortunate James I. of Scotland informs 
 us, at the commencement of the poem, 
 that he was lying in bed one morning, 
 when the reminiscence of all he had seen 
 and all he had suffered, from his earliest 
 youth, completely prevented the return of 
 slumber ; it was then that, as he ex- 
 presses it, 
 
 " Wery for-lyin, I listnyt sodaynlye. 
 And sone I herd the bell to matins ryng. 
 
 And up I rase, na langer wald I lye ; 
 But now how trowe ze suich a fantasye 
 
 Fell me to my mynd, that ay me thought 
 the bell. 
 
 Said to me. Tell on man, quhat the befell."f 
 The astonished monarch reasoned with 
 himself upon this extraordinary , com- 
 mand ; he argued with himself, " This is 
 my uwin ymaginacion ; " but, happily for 
 us, ultimately he obeyed the injunction, 
 and, as he confesses, 
 
 I sat me down. 
 And further withal my pen in hand I tuke 
 And maid a cross, and thus begouth my 
 buke."t P. p. PiPPs, 
 
 h. m. 
 
 April 10. Day breaks ... 3 8 
 Sun rises .... 5 16 
 — sets .... 6 44 
 Twilight ends . . 8 52 
 
 Stock gilliflower begins to flower in 
 gardens. 
 
 The sycamore in young leaf. 
 
 * Moore's Melodies. 
 
 t King's Quair, canto i. stanza 11. In 
 modern orthography it should run thus, 
 " Weary with lying, I listcn'd suddenly. 
 
 And soon I heard the bell to matins ring. 
 And up I rose, nor longer would I lie ; 
 
 But now, how trow ye ? such a fantasy 
 Fell me to my mind, that aye methought the 
 bell. 
 
 Said to me. Tell on, man, what thee befell " 
 
 X " This is my own imagination. — And 
 *' I sat me down. 
 And forth withal my pen in hand I took, 
 And made a cross, -and thus began my book," 
 P. P. P. 
 
457 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 11. 
 
 4dS 
 
 &Vtil 11- 
 
 April 11, 1689. The prince ot Orange 
 and his-wife the princess Mary, daughter 
 of James II., were crowned at London 
 and filled the throne vacated by her exiled 
 father, who by this ceremony, and their 
 acceptance ot the memorable bill of rights, 
 was utterly cashiered and excluded. 
 
 Dress, Temp. William and Mabv. 
 In this reign we find Dryden complain- 
 ing that " our snippeis (taylors) go over 
 once a year into France, to bring back the 
 newest mode, and to learn to cut and 
 shape it." 
 
 The fashions underwent some changes. 
 Gentlemen wore their coats cut straight be- 
 fore, and reaching below the knee, with 
 lace in front, and often buttoned to the 
 bottom, without pockets on the outside; 
 large cuffs, laced and buttoned, but no 
 collar. The vest reached nearly to the 
 knee. It was frequently firinged with 
 gold or silver. Frogs or tassel, adorned 
 the button-holes. The breeches fitted 
 close, and reached below the knee; the 
 shirt was rufHed, and generally with lace ; 
 the cravat long, plain, or entirely of point ; 
 shoes square-toed, the heel high; the 
 buckles were large : the boots were worn 
 high and stiffened ; and the hats were 
 cocked, and of a moderate size. We may 
 reasonably suppose that the gentlemen 
 dressed in the Dutch rather than in the 
 French fashions ; but the monarch seldom 
 varied his dress. 
 
 But the peruke was the greatest article 
 of extravagance. It was of French origin, 
 and now expanded to an enormous size. 
 Louis XIV. wore a profusion of false hair. 
 A preposterous vrig was so essentially ne- 
 cessary to this great monarch, that he was 
 never seen without it : before he rose from 
 his bed, his valet gave him his forest of 
 peruke, and even his statues were loaded 
 with enormity of wig. Nothing could be 
 more absurd than the appearance of 
 generals in armour, covered to the pom- 
 mels of their saddles with false hair, frosted 
 with powder. The beaus had their coats 
 on the shoulders and back regularly 
 powdered, as well as their wigs. All 
 orders, professions, and ages, wore flow- 
 ing perukes; but the higher the rank, the 
 greater the abundance of hair. Boys of 
 rank were subjects to this folly as well as 
 their Others ; and many could barely re- 
 member ever having worn their natural 
 
 locks. The wig, which was originally in- 
 tended, like Otho's, to imitate in coloi the 
 deficient hair and to hide baldness, was 
 now uniformly white, and by its prepos- 
 terous magnitude appeared to swell the 
 head to a most unnatural size. If the 
 idea was taken from the vast curling mane 
 of the lion, it ought to have been solely 
 adopted by the military ; but the peruke 
 covered the head of the lawyer and the 
 medical man, in proportion to the dignity 
 of each. It would have been considered 
 the height of insolence for a counsellor 
 to hove worn as large a wig as a judge, 
 or an attorney as a barrister. The clergy 
 took example by their metropolitan. ' thb 
 modest Tillotson was wigged, and the 
 fashion descended to the humble curate. 
 John Baptist Thiers, D. D., a French ec- 
 clesiastic, wrote an elaborate work against 
 perukes and false hair, especially as worn 
 by the clergy, entitled "Histoire de Per- 
 luques, a Paris, 1690," a duodecimo of 
 above five hundred closely printed pages. 
 Shammer^e was wig-maker in ordinary 
 to the London beaus in this reign, who 
 had for their undress the scratch, requiring 
 neither frizzling nor buckling, but rectified 
 instantly firom any little disorder by pass- 
 ing the comb over it. The large flaxen 
 perriwigs were, by a wag, called the silver 
 fleece. Charles II.'s reign might be cal- 
 led that of black, this that of white wigs. 
 
 Ladies wore their dresses long and flow- 
 ing, and were copyists of the French, yet 
 scarcely so much as they have been since. 
 They flounced their coats ; a fashion which 
 Mr. Noble whimsically imagines might 
 have been derived from Albert Durer, who 
 represented an angel in a flounced petti- 
 coat, driving Adam and Eve from Para- 
 dise. The rufiles were long and double, 
 and the hair much frizzed and curled. 
 Jewels, pearls, and amber, were worn in 
 the hair ; and ear-rings, necklaces, brace- 
 lets, ornamented the stomacher and shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 The ladies, following the queen's ex- 
 ample, began to work with their needles. 
 Mr. Noble mentions, that he saw a great 
 deal of queen Mary's needle-work, and 
 that he had a valuable necklace of hers, 
 of the finest amber, which he presented to 
 Dr. Green, of Litchfield, with a pair of 
 shoes of the queen's, which had been given 
 to him by the late John Scott Hylton,Esq., 
 whose maiden auiit was dresser to her 
 majesty, and had received many articles 
 at her royal mistress's death, in lieu of 
 her salary, besides what she had received 
 
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 11. 
 
 459 
 
 frppi her majesty in Her life time. There 
 -was a pair of golden fiUagree sleeye-but 
 tops, small and elegant, and under the 
 fillagree was the hair of Kiqg William. 
 
 The head-dress was more like a veil 
 than a cap, and thrown back ; the sides 
 Vng below the bosom. This headrdress 
 gradually diminished to a caul with two 
 lappets, known by the name of a " mob." 
 The shoes had raised heeU and square toes, 
 were high on the instep, ftid worked with 
 gold, and always of the most costly mar 
 teriala. 
 
 The gloves of both sexes were of white 
 leather, worked, but not so extravagantly 
 as in the reign of Charles I. 
 
 The ladies were not encumbered with 
 hoops, but to increase the size behind they 
 wore " the commode," which gave addir 
 tional grace, it was thought, to the swim- 
 ming train. 
 
 460 
 
 AfrUii. 
 
 Day breaks ... 3 5 
 
 Sun rise? . . , . 5 14 
 
 — sets .... 6 46 
 
 fwilight ep4s . . 8 55 
 
 Dandeliop flowers generally W the 
 
 meadowy. 
 
 The wryneck \^ sometimes l^eard abPft 
 this day- 
 
 The Wooolaek, 
 
 In the opinion qf many this is the best 
 song-bird iij the kingdom. I^r, Albin is 
 warm in his praise : — " He i? not only, a$ 
 some have said, comparable tp the nightr 
 ingaie, for singing, but, in jny judgment, 
 deserving to be preferred before thai 
 excellent bird ; and, if he be ih^iig in the 
 same room, will strive wjth him for the 
 mastery. If broughtup from the nest, and 
 caged ill the same room with a nightingale, 
 he will learn his notes, and, as it were, in- 
 corporate them with his own." 
 
 The woodlark i? of great beauty, both 
 in shape an^ plume ^ his breast and bpUy 
 are of a pale yellowish hare-cplor, faintly 
 spotted with black; the back and hea4 
 are party-cplore^, of black and reddishT 
 yellow, a whit^ line encon.pa^sing the 
 head, from eye to eye, like a crown 
 or wreath. It is something less, an<^ 
 shorter bodied than the common skylark, 
 and sits upon trees, which that bird sel- 
 dom or never does. 
 
 A gentleman who made many accurate 
 observations oi> birdg, says, the male wopd- 
 lark is flat headed, apd full behind the 
 ear?, with a yrhite stroke from each nos- 
 tril, forming a curve line over the eye, 
 and almost meeting behind the neck j the 
 whiteness of this line, and its extension 
 behind the neck, are the best signs to 
 distinguish the male: they are fnll- 
 chested, long from the neck to the 
 shoulder of the wing, narrow on the vent, 
 with a long lightish tail, and the two 
 corner feathers touched with white ; long 
 in bodv, and carries himself upright ; some 
 of the feathers under the throat have small 
 Stripes ; they have three small white fea- 
 thers on the top of the shoulder, and a 
 long heel. 
 
 The female is narrow-^headed, and 
 brown over the eyes, flattish from the 
 breast to the belly, and round at the 
 vent; short-heeled, ai)d has only two 
 whitish, dull, or cream-colored feathers 
 on the shoulder; the curve-line of her 
 head reaches but a little beyond the eye. 
 The male is likewise known by his 
 greater sm, by the largeness and length 
 gf his call; by tall walking about the 
 eage; and, at evening, by tlie doubling 
 of his note, as if he were going to roost. 
 I,ength of heel, largeness of wing, and the 
 setting «»p of the crown upon the head, 
 are said by some to be certain signs of 
 the male; yet they do not always 
 prwe trw : the strength of song cannot 
 deceive, for the female sings but little. 
 This distinguishes birds that are taken at 
 flight-time ; those caught at other seasons 
 gigg soon afterwards or not at all. There 
 SVe not any certain marks of distinction in 
 nestUep, unless it be that the highest co- 
 iored bJr-d 'Js^a^ly poves a male. Vei^ few 
 are brpiight up from the nest ; fpr it is 
 difBoHlt, even with the utmost care, to rear 
 them. 
 
 The wood-lark is very tender, breeds al- 
 mo^as early as theblackbir<l,ai!id the young 
 are ready to fiy by the middle of March. 
 The female builds at the foot of a bush or 
 a hedge, or vyhere the grass is rank and 
 dry, upder turf for shelter from the wea- 
 ther, lier nest is made of withered 
 grass, fibrous roots, and such like matter, 
 with a fe>y hpcse hairs withinside at the 
 bottom ; it is a small and very indifferent 
 fabric; has hardly any hollow or sides, 
 and the whole composition scarcely weighs 
 a quarter qf an ounce. She lays four 
 eggs, of a pale blppm color, beautifully 
 mottled aii^ clouded with red, yellpwj&e- 
 
4ei 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 29. 
 
 462 
 
 The young of the wood-lark are tecde 
 and difficult lo bring up from the nest. 
 If taken before they are well feathered, 
 they are subject to the cramp, and com- 
 monly die. They should be put into a 
 basket with a little hay at the bottom, 
 where they may lie clean and warm, and 
 be tied close down. Feed them wiih 
 sheep's heart, or other lean flesh meat, 
 raw, mixed with a liard-boiled egg, a little 
 bread, and hemp seed bruised or ground, 
 chopped together as fine as possible, and 
 a little moistened with clean water. Give 
 them every two hours, or oflener, five or 
 six very small bits, taking great care never 
 to overload the stomach. 
 
 The bird, when wild feeds upon 
 beetles, caterpillers, and other insects, 
 besides seeds. 
 
 The wood-lark will take no other than 
 his own melodious song, unless weaned 
 ' from his nest; in that case he may be 
 taught the song of another bird. , 
 
 Branchers, which are birds hatched in 
 spring, are taken in June and July, with 
 a net and a hawk, after the manner of 
 sky-larks. They harbour about gravel 
 pits, upon heath and common land, and 
 in pasture fields. For fear of the hawk, 
 they will lie so close that sometimes they 
 suffer themselves to be taken up with the 
 hand. They soon become tame. 
 
 They are taken with clap-nets in great 
 numbers in September. These are ac- 
 counted better birds than those caught at 
 any other time of the year, because, by 
 keeping them all the winter, they become 
 tamer than birds taken in January or 
 February, and will sing longer, commonly 
 eight or nine months in the year. 
 
 January is another season for taking 
 wood-larks. When caught at that time 
 they are very stout good birds, and in a 
 few days afterwards they will sing stouter 
 and louder than birds taken in September, 
 but not during so many months. 
 
 The wood-larks, whenever taken, should 
 be fed alike with hemp seed bruised very 
 fine, and hiixed with bread and egg hard 
 boiled, and grated or chopped as small as 
 possible. When first caught, he will be 
 shy for a little lime. Sift fine red gravel at 
 the bottom of his cage, and scatter some 
 of his meat upon it; this will entice him 
 to eat sooner than out of his trough ; but 
 that mode may be left off when he eats 
 out of the trough freely.) 
 
 In a great measure his diet should be 
 the same as the sky-lark's. Give him no 
 turf, but often lay fine red gravel in his 
 
 cage; and when not well, instead of gravel, 
 put mould full of ants, which is the most 
 agreeable live food you can give him. 
 Or give him meal-worms, two or three a 
 day; and a little saffron or liquorice 
 sometimes in his water. If relaxed, grate 
 chalk or cheese among his meat and his 
 gravel. He will eat any kind of flesh 
 meat minced fine, which he may now and 
 then have for change of diet, always 
 leaving some of his constant meat in tfis 
 cage at the same time, that he may fat 
 which he will. A gentleman, very fond 
 of wood-larks, fed them constantly with 
 a composition of pease-meal, honey, and 
 butter, thoroughly mixed, rubbed into 
 small granules, and dried in a dish before 
 a fire. Of this meat he made enough at 
 one time to serve six or eight birds for six 
 weeks or two months. This has become 
 a very usual food for them. 
 
 Great care should be taken of the 
 wood-lark, for he is very tender. Some 
 think it necessary to wrap a piece of cloth 
 round the perches in very cold weather. 
 His diet, water, and gravel, should be 
 often shifted. 
 
 A Walk to Eltham. 
 [For the Year Book. ' 
 
 On the 25th of Decembe- 
 Camberwell, intending to ! 
 masse," after the fashion o' 
 former monarchs, in the 
 Eltham.* 
 
 The morning was fair, •<^ 
 of snow on the ground, z-mi-,-^ '■ 
 above us. As we '^^ff^%,;W-' 
 friends in the Kent roacfeSl^i , 
 course in that direction, ^^••fllil'.' A 
 by that ancient pool, ^J*^ %J ' 
 the days of Chaucer, arf^*.;;';;v., 0k 
 by the name of " Su Tliijif .i.> ' ; ' 
 For here the pilgrims o'? 
 Canterbury, usually i 
 hence, I suppose it ass 
 that " holy blesstul ma 
 Bray (Surrey, vol. iii. 
 that a chapel or chantr; 
 
 r. 
 .nk 
 that 
 
 » Henry III., in ^270 
 and regent during his . 
 Richard II., Henry IV., 
 Edw. IV., which last fed 
 daily at his expense.-'is«e ' 
 
 his son, 
 
 ■n 1347; 
 
 a VI., and 
 
 j>crsonB hew 
 
463 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 11. 
 
 464 
 
 sa'nt, stood formerly somewnere about 
 the spot. 
 
 But, be this as it may, the prologue to 
 the "Canterbury Tales" makes this men- 
 tion of it — 
 
 And forth we riden a Utel more than pas 
 Unto the watering of Saint ThomaS' — 
 And ther our hoste began his hors arest. 
 
 The air was keen and frosty, but the 
 remembrance of Dan Chaucer and his 
 jolly company issuing from the Tabarde 
 in Southwark, on a clear, cool, fresh, 
 spring morning, to wander on a pilgrim- 
 age by the very track which we were now 
 pursuing, brought before the mind's eye 
 su;h sweet fancies and gentle imaginings, 
 that I could almost have ". wallowed in 
 December's snows" by thinking of the 
 "soft" season. 
 
 Whanne that Aprilis with his shourcs sote. 
 The draughte of March hath forced to the rote. 
 
 Four " merry souls and all agog," we 
 moved at a brisk pace along the Kent 
 road, determined to find matter for mirth 
 in every thing. We passed Hatcham, an 
 ancient hill mentioned in Domesday 
 Book, but consisting now of but few 
 houses, and met with nothing worthy of 
 record till we reached New Cross. 
 
 " Lo ! Depeford 1" as Chaucer says, 
 cried A., as the thickly congregated houses 
 of that town burst upon our view ; 
 amongst which the low grey-stone turret 
 of St. Nicholas, and the lofty spire of 
 St. Paul's churches, were conspicuous; 
 of this last, Dr. Conyers was formerly 
 rector, and some of your readers may re- 
 collect the compliment paid him by 
 Cowper — 
 
 The path to bliss 
 
 Is open, and ye cannot enter ; why ? 
 Because ye will not, Coilycr would reply. — 
 A nd he says much which many may dispute 
 And cavil atwitli ease, but, none refute. 
 
 We crossed the Ravensbourn, and 
 began to ascend Blackheath hill, but 
 struck out of the road by the " Cavern," 
 which you may, or may not, believe was 
 excavated by Jack Cade and his merry 
 men all, who mustered on the heights 
 above it, a force of nearly 100,000. As 
 we were none of us disposed to see the 
 " fine water" issuing from the spring at 
 its farther extremity, forced up against its 
 will by means of a spasmodic old pump, 
 as ricketty, withal, as a flag-staff in" a gale 
 
 of wind, we passed onward by a " basket- 
 maker's villa," tastefully decoiated with 
 an inscription in what we agreed to be 
 " broken English ;'" the style and title of 
 the said craftsman being thus set forth— 
 
 BASKETM 
 AKER 
 " Finera respice !" said the thoughtful 
 H., as he stared, with lack-lustre eye, at 
 the odd-looking supernumerary termi- 
 nating its first line — 
 
 " EupijKa ! EU().jKa !" 
 
 exclaimed the inveterate G.— a smr-.V. 
 dealer in left-off puns — to his vvondering 
 companion, who was gazing intently at 
 all that piece or parcel of the memorable 
 inscription, situate, lying, and being next 
 below it, in the vain hope of finding the 
 letter which his friend's announcement de- 
 clared to be forthcoming. 
 
 We were now scrambling up from the 
 pebbly gulph immediately above the 
 Cavern, straining, as O. said, every nerve 
 to come at " the Point," a bleak, and 
 commanding slip of green turf connected 
 with the heath, from which, though we 
 missed the view, we could view the sight, 
 till the "churlish chiding of the wintry 
 wind" bade us begone about our busi^ 
 ness. 
 
 We passed a clump of firs, whose 
 " sea-like sound" had often soothed me 
 in my summer musings beneath their 
 shade ; and roade for Lee Lane, along 
 which we journeyed, marvellously di- 
 verted with the odd-looking villas which 
 line it, till we reached the Maidstone 
 road, by that well known Hostelrie the 
 " Tiger's Head." 
 
 We kept along the highway till a stile 
 on our right hand invited us. to cross the 
 fields towards the palace of which we had 
 as yet seen nothing. A beaten track pror 
 mised us at all events the chance of ar- 
 riving somewhere, and it was almost a 
 matter of indifference whether we reached 
 Eltham or not. 
 
 " The palace !" cried A., with more 
 than ordinary enthusiasm — as he disco- 
 vered its mean gable crowning the rising 
 grounds in the distance.* 
 
 [Wete ye 
 
 * Some notion of this view is attempted 
 to be conveyed in the next page by an ei^r 
 graving from a sketch taken in the summer 
 when playful children were amusing them- 
 selves with their nursery-waggon iu the 
 meadows. 
 
465 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 20. 
 
 469 
 
 ELTHAM PALACE FROM THE MEADOWS. 
 
 " WitU se not iofist stantret^ a litel toinne 
 " 93)1011 ttt ;WatItston toSie as s> So IrotDn? 
 " CQere mas S^ £^ a (faite ana gooDIs stg^t), 
 " Cjat Btatels place, Sing fojit f)K jalate fttrtt!" 
 
 "What! Chancer again," exclaimed 
 G., somewhat good-naturedly. " Not so," 
 replied A., " but my own rhime of 
 Eltham, fashioned a little after the old 
 school to be sure ;" and so we went on 
 lovingly together again, till we reached 
 an old road, from which we soon escaped 
 through a park-like meadow to the left, 
 and arrived without farther let, hindrance, 
 or impediment, eventually at this same 
 
 We sought admission, which was rea- 
 dily granted, and gazed with delight at 
 the curiously carved oak rafters, with 
 their rich pendents, which at one time 
 sustained the roof, but were now them- 
 selves staid up by stout timbers placed 
 against them, much to the injury of their 
 fine effect. The windows on each side 
 struck us as peculiarly fine, reaching, as 
 they do, almost the entire height of the 
 building. The quiet of the place was 
 not without its effect, and, as we felt a 
 mysterious gravity stealing over us, we 
 thought of bluff Harry the Eighth, and 
 
 his " Etil Christmasse," holden within 
 these walla; for the prevalence of the 
 plague, in 1526, constrained him to sup- 
 press the mirth and jollity which are the 
 usual concomitants of that festive season. 
 
 " Item. To the Kyng his mynstrelles for 
 playing before their majesties J" ejacu- 
 lated A., as his eye caught the remaius of 
 the old orchestral loft at the eastern end 
 of the building. — "That, Sir, was the 
 music-gallery," said our guide; "here the 
 king's table used to stand, and there was 
 the grand entrance," pointing to the 
 stately window in one of those " pretty 
 retiring places," with curiously groined 
 roofs, which jut out on each side the hall 
 at its western extremity. 
 
 We looked about us for some time in 
 silent wonderment, till the chill dusky 
 atmosphere, through wliich the " glad 
 gildy stremes" of sun-light were strug- 
 gling, caused us simultaneously to seek 
 again the cheering influences of the open 
 day. We made our exit on the opposite 
 side from that on which we had entered, 
 
467 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. APRIL 12, 13,14. 
 
 4§8 
 
 end after exchanging a few broad grins 
 with the grotesque heads, here and there 
 gracing the angles of this ancient pile, 
 departed from the place with those in- 
 describable eraotionsw hich dreams of the 
 " olden tyme" usually awaken. 
 
 mvil 12. 
 
 ' 12th April, 1814, there was a general 
 illumination in London, with great public 
 rejoicings, which lasted three days, for the 
 restoration of Peace with France. 
 
 I hale that drum's discordant sound, 
 Parading round, and round, and round. 
 To thoughdess youth it pleasure yields. 
 And lures from cities and from Holds, 
 To sell their liberty for charms. 
 Of taudry lace and glitt'ring arms ; 
 And when Ambition's voice commands 
 
 To march, and fight, and fall in foreign lands. 
 I hate that drum's discordant sound. 
 Parading round, and round, and round ; 
 To me it talks of ravaged plains. 
 And burning towns, and ruin'd swains. 
 And mangled limbs, and dying groans. 
 And widows' tears, and orphans' moans, 
 And all that Misery's hand be^lipwa. 
 
 To fill the catalogue of human woes. 
 
 Soot? of^mwH- 
 
 h. m. 
 4|»»'fJl2, Pay breaks . , . 3, , 3 
 Sun rises , ... 5 12 
 -^ sets . . . 6 48 
 Twilight ends , . 8 57 
 Heartsease or pansy in full flower. 
 Apricot trees in full bloom. 
 Early cherry trees in bloom. 
 
 april 13. 
 
 Rosemary. 
 Mr. Hone, 
 
 The properties fancifully ascribed to 
 certain herbs and flowers were regulated 
 by an alliterative connexion between the 
 flower and that which it was held to de- 
 note. Thus rosemary, as you have shown 
 at p. 38, stood for remembrance and 
 rejoicing, gilliflowers for gentleness, mary- 
 gold for mirth and marriage; and so oil. 
 This appears from a ballad quoted par- 
 tially by Mr. Douce, occurring in Robin- 
 son's "Handful! of Pleasant Deites, 
 p. 84," 16mo. It is entitled a " Nosegaie 
 alwayies sweet, for lovers to send for 
 
 tokens of love at Newyere's Tide, or for 
 fairings, as they in their minds shall be 
 disposed to write." The stanza most in 
 point I transcribe : — 
 
 " Eosemarie is for remembrance 
 
 Between us dale and night *, 
 Wishing that I may alwaies have 
 
 You present in my sight." 
 
 In Rowley's "Noble Soldier, 1634," 
 some of the characters who have con- 
 spired to kill the king enter with sprigs 
 of rosemary in their hats, and one of 
 them says — 
 
 " There's but one part to play ; shame has 
 
 done her's. 
 But execution must close up the scene \ 
 And for that cause these sprigs are worn by 
 
 all. 
 Badges of marriage, now oi funeral." 
 
 I may add that, in Staffordshire, the 
 use of rosemary at weddings and funerals, 
 but particularly at the latter, is still com- 
 mon. 
 
 Staffprdshire Moorlands- 
 
 J. B- 
 
 h. m. 
 April 13. Day breaks ... 3 
 Sun rises . . . . 5 11 
 — sets .... 6 49 
 Twilight ends ..90 
 Crown imperials in full blow. 
 Pear, hyrus communis, in blossom. 
 Broods of young geese begin to appear 
 on the commons and waters. 
 
 aptii 14. 
 
 A melancholy tale is connected with the 
 annals of London Bridge. The son of 
 Sir Willianti Temple, the bosom counsellor 
 of William of Nassau, yet the honest 
 adviser of James II., when his father de- 
 clined to take a share in the new govern- 
 ment, accepted the office of secretary at 
 war. His interest procured the release of 
 Captain Hamilton from the tower, where 
 he was confined on a charge of high trea- 
 son. His liberation was obtained by Mr. 
 Temple, upon a promise from Captain 
 Hamilton that he would repair to the earl 
 of Tyrconnel,then in arms for King James, 
 in Ireland, and persuade him to submit. 
 On arriving in that country, Hamilton im- 
 mediately joined the insurgents, and led 
 on a regiment to the attack of King Wil- 
 liam's troops. The taunts of rival cour- 
 
469 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 16. 
 
 470 
 
 tiers, pnd the ingratitude ot one whom be 
 Ijsd so iQved and trusted, threw Mr. 
 Temple into a profound melancholy, On 
 the Hth of April, 1689, he hired a boat 
 on the Thames, and directed the waterman 
 to shoot the bridge ; at that instant he 
 flung himself into the catarapt, 3od, having 
 filled his pockets with Mones, immediately 
 sunk. He left a note in the boat to this 
 effect: — "My folly in undertaking what 
 I was unable to perform has done the king 
 and kingdom a great deal of prejudice ; I 
 wish him all happiness, and abler servants 
 than John Temple-" 
 
 Mixed Condition of Human IjIFE. 
 
 There is, in this world, a continual inter- 
 change of pleasing and greeting accidence, 
 still keeping their succession of times, 
 and overtaking each other in their several 
 courses : no picture can be all drawn in 
 the brightest colours, nor a harmony con- 
 sorted only of trebles ; shadows are need- 
 ful in expressing of proportions, and the 
 bass is a principal part in perfect musif ; 
 the condition here alloweth no unmeddled 
 joy ; our whole life is temperate, between 
 sweet and sour, and we must all look for 
 a nixtuTe of bpth : the wise so wish : 
 better that they still think of worse, ac- 
 eepting the one, if it eorae with liking, 
 and bearing the other without impatience, 
 being so much masters of eacn other's 
 fortunes, that neither shall wotk them to 
 excess. The dwarf gioweth not on the 
 highest hill, nor the tall man loseth not 
 his height in the lowest velley ; and, as a 
 base mind, though most at ease, will be 
 dejected, so a resolute virtue, in the 
 deepest distress, is most impregnable- — 
 R. Southwell, 1569. 
 
 
 h. 
 
 «i. 
 
 pril 14. Day breaks . . . 
 
 2 
 
 57 
 
 Sub rises .... 
 
 6 
 
 9 
 
 — >- sets , . . 
 
 6 
 
 51 
 
 Twilight ends . . 
 
 9 
 
 3 
 
 Wood sorrel flowers in plenty. 
 
 
 
 jBIackthorn begins to blossom. 
 
 
 
 The nightingale sings. 
 
 
 
 This is cuckoo -day in Sussex. 
 
 
 
 ^urtl 15. 
 
 Birds. — The Sky-lare. 
 
 While the morning is yet cold, there 
 are but k few complaining chirps, and the 
 
 birds chiefly appear in short flints, whi<sh 
 have much the appearance of leaps, under 
 the hedges. As the morning gels warm, 
 however, a few are found running along 
 the furrows, and one brown fellow, 
 perched on a clod, partially erecting a 
 crest of feathers, and looking around him 
 with a mingled air ^f complacency and 
 confidence, utters a " churr-ee" ra an 
 under tone, as if he were trying the 
 lowest and tht highest notes of an instru 
 mgnt. The notes are restrained, but they 
 have enough of music in them to cause 
 you to wish for a repetition. That, how- 
 ever, does not in general come; but in- 
 stead of it there js a single " churr" mur- 
 mured from a little distance, and so soft 
 as hardly to be audibly ; and the bird that 
 was stationed upon the clod has vanished, 
 nor can you for some time And out what 
 has become of him. His flight is at first 
 upward, and bears some resemblance to 
 the smoke of a fire on a calm day, gradu- 
 ally expanding into a spiral as it rises 
 above the surface- But, no sooner has he 
 gained the proper elevation, than down 
 showers his song, filling the whole air 
 with the most cheerful melody ; and you 
 feel more gay, more glee and lifting up of 
 the heart, than when any other music 
 meets your ear. The opening of the day 
 and of the year comes fresh to your fancy, 
 as you instinctively repeat — 
 
 " Hark, the lark at heaven'^ gate sings.'' 
 
 We have many songsters, and the 
 spHng is the season when they make all 
 the country one orchestra; but the coun- 
 tryman's bird, the bird that is most na- 
 turally associated with the freshness of 
 the vernal day and the labors of the field, 
 is the lark. — 
 
 The time when the lark is first in song, 
 and the general appearance and habits of 
 the bird, render it a favorite; and even 
 the boys, in their nesting excursions, hold 
 the humble couch of the lark in a sort of 
 veneration. In regions warmer than 
 England, where vegetation is apt to sufler 
 from locusts, the lark is very useful, as it 
 feeds its young with their eggs; and as 
 snails and worms are the food of the 
 young birds in all countries, and the prin- 
 cipal food of the parents in the breeding 
 season, it is a most useful bird every 
 where. 
 
 The bird is the very emblem of freedom : 
 floating in the thin air, with ^reading 
 tail and outstretched wings, and moving 
 its little head, delightedly, first to one 
 side and then to the other, as if it would 
 
471 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 15. 
 
 472 
 
 communicate its joy around ; it at last 
 soars to such an elevation that, if visible 
 at all, it is a mere dark speck in the blue 
 vault of heaven ; and, carolling over the 
 young year, or the young day, while all 
 is bustle and activity, the airy vtildness of 
 the song makes its whole character more 
 peculiar and striking. 
 
 The lark is peculiarly the bird of open 
 cultivated districts, avoiding equally the 
 lonely wilds, and the immediate vicinity 
 of houses, woods, and coppices. The 
 small annual weeds that ripen their seeds 
 upon stubble, after the crops are removed, 
 are its favorite food. It runs along and 
 picks them from the husks, and some- 
 times scrapes for them with its claws ; 
 and then in winter it shifts its quarters. 
 From September to February, the time 
 that they are mute, they collect in vast 
 masses ; and have a partial migration. 
 The extent of that migration is not very 
 well understood ; because the wide dis- 
 persion of the birds in single pairs during 
 the breeding season, and the great accu- 
 mulation in one place for the remainder 
 of the year, give it an appearance of being 
 greater than it really is. Their habits, 
 which are always those of free range, 
 whether in the air or upon the ground, 
 necessarily make them shift their quarters 
 when the snow is so deep as to cover the 
 tops of the herbaceous plants; but even 
 in winter they are not partial to sea side 
 places. The safety of the lark from birds 
 of prey consists in the closeness with 
 which it can lie, and the similarity of its 
 color to that of the clods. It is said to 
 assume the surface and tint of a heap of 
 wet mud by ruffling its plumage. When 
 in the air it is generally above those birds 
 that beat the bushes ; and, if they attempt 
 to approach it, it does not come down in 
 the parabola, which is its usual form of 
 path for alighting, but drops perpendicu- 
 larly, like a stone, and sometimes stuns 
 itself by the fall. On these occasions, 
 too, it will fly towards any open door, or 
 dash itself against the glass of a window. 
 It has less fear of man than many of the 
 little birds ; and, from the glee with 
 which it sings over the fields when farm- 
 work is going on, and the frequency with 
 which it alights to pick up larvae, crysa- 
 lids, and worms, as these are disclosed 
 by the operations of the plough or the 
 harrow, one would almost he tempted to 
 suppose that they actually enjoy the so- 
 ciety of man and laboring in his com- 
 pany ; while their early and joyous songs 
 
 call him up in the morning. The natura 
 history of the lark, taken with all its times 
 and associations, would however embrace 
 the greater part of rustic nature through- 
 out the year ; a.s for eight months it is in 
 song, and for the rest of the year it is 
 •captured and sold for food. 
 
 Abundant as larks are in Hertford and 
 Northamptonshire, and some other open 
 cultivated counties of England, they are 
 not near so numerous as on -some parts of 
 the continent. The plains of Germany 
 swarm with them ; and they are so highly 
 prized, as an article of food, that the tax 
 upon them at the city of Leipzic produces 
 nearly a thousand pounds yearly to the 
 revenue.* 
 
 The ensuing song was wrtten by 
 Bernard de Ventadour, a troubadour at- 
 tached to Eleanor of Guienne, who went 
 into the north to marry Louis VII., and 
 afterwards became the queen of Henry II. 
 of England. 
 
 When I behold the lark upspring 
 
 To meet the bright sun joyfully. 
 How he forgets to poise Ms wing 
 
 In his gay spirit's revelry, 
 Alas ! that mournful thoughts should Spring 
 
 E'en from that happy songster's glee ! 
 Strange, that such gladdening sight should 
 
 bring 
 
 Not joy, but pining care to me ! 
 
 1 thought my heart had known the whole 
 
 Of love, but small its knowledge proved ■ 
 For still the more my longing soul 
 
 Loves on, itself the while unloved : 
 She stole my heart, myself she stole, 
 
 And all 1 prized from me removed ; 
 She left me but the fierce control 
 
 Of vain desires for her I loved. 
 
 All self-command is now gone by, 
 E'er since the luckless hour when she 
 
 Became a mirror to my eye. 
 Whereon 1 gazed complacently. 
 
 Thou fatal mirror ! there I spy 
 
 Love's image ; and my doom shall be. 
 
 Like young Narcissus, thus to sigh, 
 
 And thus expire, beholding thee. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 April 15. Day breaks ... 2 54 
 
 Sun rises .... 5 7 
 
 sets . . . . 6 53 
 
 Twilight ends . 9 '6 
 
 Yellow alysson flowers. 
 
 Yellowwillow wren arrives. 
 
 Swallow, hirunda rustica, arrives. 
 
 * British Naturalist, ii. 110, &c. 
 
473 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— APRIL 16. 
 
 474 
 
 april 16. 
 
 On the 16th of April, 1717, died Ri- 
 chard Guinnet, esq., of Great Huntingdon, 
 Gloucestershire, who had been educated 
 at Christ-church, Oxford, under Dr. Gas- 
 trell, and entered of the Middle Temple ; 
 whence, from ill health, he retired into 
 the country, and ab indonsd his profession. 
 He was an admirer of Mrs. Elizabeth 
 Thomas, the subject of the next notice, 
 but their union was suspended from pru- 
 dential motives. After waiting sixteen 
 years, and when Dr. Garth had pronounced 
 he could not survive, he urged his im- 
 mediate marriage with the lady. She 
 told him, to prevent his importunity, she 
 would be his in six months. He replied, 
 with a deep sigh, " Ah ! madam, six 
 months now are as much as sixteen years 
 have been ; you put it off, now, and God 
 will do it for ever." The poor gentleman 
 retired to his seat in the country, made 
 his will, and left Mrs. Thomas £600 ; and 
 sorrow was her "food ever after :" he died 
 within the six months. He was a man of 
 piety, prudence,' and temperance, and 
 author of a little piece, entituled " An 
 Essay on the Mischief of giving Fortunes 
 with Women in Marriage," 1727, 12mo., 
 and of various poems, interspersed in the 
 memoirs of Pylades and Corinna. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas was the child of a lady 
 who, after living in all the luxury oi 
 forensic splendor, was obliged, in widow- 
 hood, to shelter herself and her only child 
 in obscurity. The dowager lady Went- 
 worth losing her daughter Harriot, the 
 mistress of the ill-fated duke of Monmouth, 
 said to the mother of Mrs. Thomas, " I 
 am indebted to your late husband ; but I 
 know not, nor you, how much; for his 
 books were, I find, burnt in the fire which 
 happened in his chambers in the Temple. 
 Let me do better than pay you ; let your 
 daughter be my adopted child." The 
 separation was abhorrent to maternal feel- 
 ings, and lady Wentworth would hear no 
 apologies, but, dying in a few years, left 
 an estate in Stepney, of £1500 per annum 
 to her chambermaid. The mother of 
 Mrs. Thomas fell a victim to an adven- 
 turer, who spent the wreck of her fortune, 
 which had only been £1000, in attempting 
 to transmute the common metals into gold. 
 She was prevailed on to take an elegant 
 house in Bloomsbury, where, under the 
 femiliar names of Jack, and Tom, Will, 
 and Ned, the dukes of Devon, Bucking- 
 
 ham, Dorset, and other noblemen met, to 
 concert the expulsion of James IL at the 
 risk of tl)eir lives and fortunes, and the 
 ruin, if ruin there could be, to Mrs. Tho- 
 mas and Elizabeth. The revolution made 
 no alteration in the situation of the widow 
 and her daughter, except a profligate oifet 
 to the latter, and the promise of a place 
 at court to her lover, Mr. Gwinnet. These 
 proposals were received with indignant 
 contempt. By Mr. Gwinnet's premature 
 death, Elizabeth became entitled to his 
 bequest of £600, but his brother suppress- 
 ed the will, and tarnished the poor girl's 
 reputation. She finally compromised- 
 with him for the receipt of £400. Half 
 of this he paid, and the money was sur- 
 rendered to her mother's creditors , but 
 he led her from court to court, for the 
 recovery of the remaining £200, until, at 
 the threshold of the house of peers, he 
 paid the money. Besides pecuniary dis- 
 tress, she endured, for several years, great 
 personal misery, from a chicken bone, 
 swallowed inadvertently. 
 
 Some letters of Mr. Pope to Mr. Henry 
 Cromwell fell into her hands, and, while 
 in confinement for debt, she sold them to 
 Curl, who published them. This trans- 
 action excited Mr. Pope's resentment and 
 vengeance ; and she died under his dis- 
 pleasure at wretched lodgings in Fleet- 
 street, on the 3rd of February, 1730, at 
 the age of 56, and was buried in St. Bride's 
 church. Her memoirs, with the letters 
 between her and Mr. Gwinnet, under the 
 assumed names of Corinna and Pylades, 
 are curious. Dryden humanely com- 
 mended her verses ; and she had been 
 visited by Pope. In her extraordinary 
 history there is much to excite pity for 
 her fate. Her life, though virtuous, was 
 spent in " disappointment, sickness, law- 
 suits, poverty, and imprisonment;" for 
 though her talents were not above medi- 
 ocrity, she was flattered by friends, and 
 praised by poets. This stimulated her to 
 " write for the booksellers," and she ex- 
 perienced the hardships of ill-directed 
 drudgery. She might have been happier, 
 had she known how to labor with her 
 hands, and once tasted the fruits of use- 
 ful industry,* 
 
 Edward Ward, commonly called " Ned 
 Ward," was a publican in Moorfields, 
 who wrote many pieces, of much popu- 
 
 • Noble. 
 
At'j 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 16. 
 
 476 
 
 larity in theif day. In Itoe, for his 
 " Hudibras Eedivivus," which reflected 
 Upoil the queen and the govfernment, hi 
 was sentenced to stand twice in the pil-- 
 lory, and to pay forty marks, and give 
 security for good behaviour for a year. 
 Mr. Granger says, " There is in his 
 writings a vulgarity df style and sehtirtieht 
 borrowed from, and adapted to, most of 
 the scenes of low life, in which he was 
 particularly conversant. He mistook 
 pertness and vivacity for wit ; and dis" 
 tortion of thought and expression for 
 humor : all Which are abundantly exem* 
 plifiedinwhat he published, both of verse 
 and prose." His best performance iii the 
 '•' London Spy," which Jacob, in his 
 " Lives of the Poets," deservedly com- 
 plimented as a " celebrated work." In 
 this book there is much of curious detail 
 concerning the manners of the times. 
 Ward died in 1731, at about the age of 
 seventy. 
 
 td ■ r .1 I 1 fa 
 
 Dress, temp. ANiiE. 
 
 While speaking of persons who lived 
 in the reign of queen Ann, it may not 
 be out of place to mention the dress of 
 that period, when French fashions were 
 imported, much to the satisfaction of the 
 youthful and gay, though they were 
 greatly disapproved by the aged and se- 
 date. 
 
 Gentlemen contracted the size of their 
 v/igs, and, for undress, tied up some of 
 the most flowing of their curls. In this 
 state they were called Ramillie wigs, and 
 afterwards tie-wigs; but were never worn 
 in full dress. The cravat had long ends, 
 which fell on the breast ; it was generally 
 of point lace ; but sometimes only bor- 
 dered or fringed. The coat had no col- 
 lar, was long, open at the bottom of the 
 sleeves, and without cuffs, and edged 
 with gold or silver from the top to the 
 bottom, with clasps and buttons tlie 
 whole length, and at tlie opening at 
 the sleeve. Young gentlemen often had 
 the irfeeves only half way down the arm, 
 and the short sleeve very full and deeply 
 ruffled. An ornamental belt kept the 
 coat tight at the bottom of the wai.<!t. The 
 vest, and lower part of the dress, had lit- 
 tle clasps, and was seldom seen. The 
 roll-up stocking came into vogue at this 
 period, and the sandal was much used 
 by the young menj these were finely 
 
 wrought. Elderly gentlemen had the 
 shoe fastened with small buckles npon 
 the instep; and raised, but ftot high, 
 heels. 
 
 Ladies wore the hair becomingly curled 
 round the face. A flowing Ct)if, or rather 
 veil, of the finest linen, fastened upon the 
 head, and fell behind it. This prevailed 
 till the high projecting head-dress was 
 testored, after it had been discontinued 
 fifteen years. Swift, when dining with 
 Sir Thomas Hanmer, observed the dudiess 
 of Grafton with this ungraceful Babel 
 head'dress ; she looked, he said, " like a 
 mad woman." The large necklace was 
 Still used, though not constantly worn. 
 Ear-rings were discontinued. The \>Oiloth 
 was either entirely exposed, or merely 
 shaded by gaUze. Most of the silveir 
 money of this reign has the royal bust 
 With drapery; the gold pieces are With- 
 out. The queen commanded that the 
 drapery should appear upon both. The 
 chemise had a tucker or bordei' above the 
 boddice, which was Open in front, and 
 fastened with gold or silver clasps or 
 jewellery : the sleeves were full. The 
 large tub hoop made its appearnnoe in 
 this reign. The apology for it was its 
 coolness in summer, by adfnitting a free 
 circulation of air. Gtafigeif says, " it was 
 no more a petticoatj than Diogenes's tub 
 was his breeches." Flounces and furbe- 
 lows prevailed in this reign, and became 
 ridiculously enormous. Embfoideted 
 shoes contitiued in fashion. Ladies afid 
 gentlemen had their glbVeS richly em- 
 broidered. 
 
 Queen Ann Strictly observed dettMUih 
 in her dress, and appears to ha*e made it 
 her study. She would ofteh notrSe the 
 dress of her domestics of either ses, and 
 remark whether a petiwig. Or the lining 
 of a coat. Were appwpti&te.r She once 
 sent for Lord BolingbVoke in haste ; and 
 he gave immediaite attendance in a Ra- 
 millie, or tie, instead of a fdll bottomed 
 wig, which so offended het majesty, that 
 she said, "I suppos« his lotdsWp will 
 come to court, the next lime, in his night- 
 cap." 
 
 April 16. 
 
 Day breaks . 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 sets . . 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 a 53 
 
 5 i 
 
 6 55 
 9 8 
 
 Npble. 
 
 • Noble. 
 
477 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 17, 18. 
 
 478 
 
 Bulbous crowfoot in flower. 
 Late daffodil flowers. 
 Wild yellow tulip flowers. 
 Barbary tree in leaf. 
 The redstart appears ; the female comes, 
 usually, a few days before the male. 
 
 Then joy I in the song and in the flower, 
 Joy in myaelf, hut in my lady more ; 
 All objects round my spirit turns to joy, 
 But most from her my rapture rises high. 
 Bernard de Ventadour 
 
 ^nl 17. 
 
 On the irih of April, 1790, Dr. Ben- 
 jamin Franklin died at Philadelphia, at 
 eighty-four years of age. His public ca- 
 reer is well known ; his private life, 
 written by himself, is full of counsels and 
 cautions and examples of prudence and 
 economy. 
 
 A Trick of Fh/ bklin's. 
 The following letter from the doctor at 
 Paris was published by the gentleman to 
 whom it was addressed : 
 
 [Copy.] 
 I send you herewith a bill for ten louis 
 d' ors. I do not pretend to give such a 
 sum : I only lend it to you. When you 
 shall return to your country, you cannot 
 fail of getting into some business that 
 will in time enable you to pay all your 
 debts. In that case, when you meet with 
 another honest man in similar distress 
 you must pay me by lending this sum to 
 him, enjoining him to discharge the debt 
 by a like operation, when he shall be able, 
 and shall meet with such another oppor- 
 tunity. I hope it may thus go through 
 many hands before it meets with a knave 
 to stop its progress. This is a trick of 
 mine for doing a deal of good with a 
 little money. I am not rich enough to 
 afford much in good works, and so am 
 obliged to be cunning, and make the most 
 of a little. 
 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 iTi7 17. 
 
 Day breaks . . . 
 
 2 49 
 
 
 Sun rises . . . . 
 
 5 3 
 
 
 — sets ... . 
 
 6 57 
 
 
 Twilight ends . . 
 
 9 11 
 
 3tar anemone in full flower. 
 
 
 Tubeflo 
 )wers 
 
 wered daffodil, NarcUsuibicalor, 
 
 The Nicdtingale. 
 When grass grows green, and fresh leaves 
 
 lipriBg, 
 
 ■And flowers are bndding oti the plain,, 
 When nightingales so sweetly sing, 
 
 And through the greenwood Swells the strain^ 
 
 The Nightikgale. 
 Of this delicious songster it is not, at 
 present, proposed to say more than relates 
 to the taking and ordering of branchers 
 and old birds. , 
 
 Branchers are caught in July, or at the 
 beginning of August; old birds at the 
 latter end of March, or beginning of April ; 
 those taken in March, or before the 12th 
 of April, are esteemed the best. Birds 
 taken after that day seldom thrive. 
 
 Their haunts are usually in a wood, 
 coppice, or quickset hedge, where they 
 may be taken in a trap-cage, made on 
 purpose, baited with a meal-worm. Place 
 the trap as near as possible to the place 
 where the bird sings. If it is in the middle 
 of a hedge, or a place where he feeds, 
 before you fix the trap, turn up the earth 
 about twice the bigness of the trap; for, 
 where the ground is newly turned up, he 
 looks for food, and, espying the worm, 
 comes presently to it; if he does not 
 appear soon, then turn up a fresh spot of 
 earth, larger than the former, and you 
 will quickly have him, for he ^ill not 
 leave the place where he resorts. It is 
 customary with this bird to settle, or 
 seize upon one particular place as his 
 freehold, into which he will not admit any 
 but his mate. 
 
 Nightingales are likewise taken with 
 lime-twigs, placed upon the hedge near 
 which they sing, with meal-worms fastened 
 at proper places to allure them. 
 
 As soon as you have taken one, tie the 
 tips of his wings with some thread (not 
 strained too hard), to prevent his beating 
 himself against the top and wires of the 
 cage ; he will grow tame ihe sooner, and 
 more readily eat. He should be put into 
 a nightingale's back cage; if placed in 
 an open one, darken one side with cloth 
 or paper ; and hang him, at first, in some 
 private place, that he be not disturbed. 
 Feed him once in an hour and a half, or 
 two hours, with sheep's heart and egg 
 shred small and fine, mingling amongst 
 this food some ants, or meal-worms. No 
 nightingale will at first eat the sheep's 
 heart or egg, but he must be brought 
 to it by degrees, for his natural food is 
 worms, ants, caterpillars, or flies; there- 
 fore, taking the bird in your hand, oepn 
 hi» bill with a stick made thin itt one end 
 
479 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL IS 
 
 480 
 
 and give him three, four, or five pieces, 
 according as he will take them, as big as 
 peas ; then set him some meat mingled 
 with store of ants, that, when he goes to 
 pick up the ants, he may eat some of the 
 heart and egg with it. At first shred 
 three or four meal-worms in his meat, the 
 better to entice him, that so he may eat 
 some of the sheep's heart by little and 
 little, and, when he eats freely, give him 
 less of ants, &c., and, at last, nothing but 
 sheep's heart and egg. You should take 
 some of this meat witH you when you go 
 to catch nightingales, and in an hour or 
 two after they are taken force them to eat, 
 by opening the mouth and cramming 
 them. Take care that the meat be not 
 too dry ; moisten it by sprinkling a little 
 clean water upon it, as you prepare it. 
 Birds that are long in feeding, and 
 make np "curring" or "sweeting" for 
 eight or ten days, seldom prove good. 
 On the contrary, when they are soon 
 familiar, and sing quickly, .and eat of 
 themselves without much trouble, these 
 are sure tokens of their proving excellent 
 birds. Those which feed in a few hours, 
 or the next day after they are taken, and 
 sing in two or three days, never prove 
 bad. Tie the wings no longer than till 
 the bird is grown tame.* 
 
 When nightingales their lulling song 
 
 For me have breathed the whole night long. 
 
 Thus soothed, I sleep ; — yet, when awake, 
 
 Again will joy my heart forsake. 
 
 Pensive in love, in sorrow pining 
 
 All other fellowship declining : ' 
 
 Not such was once my blest employ, 
 
 "When all my heart, my song, was joy. 
 
 And none who knew that joy, but well 
 Could tell how bright, unspeakable. 
 How far above all common bliss, 
 "Was then my heart's pure happiness j 
 How lightly on my fancy ranged. 
 Gay tale and pleasant jest exchanged, 
 , Dreaming such joy must ever be 
 In love like that I bore for thee. 
 
 They that behold me little dream 
 How wide my spirit soars from them, 
 And, borne on fancy's pinion, roves 
 To seek the beauteous form it loves : 
 Know, that a faithful herald flies 
 To bear her image to my eyes, 
 My constant thought, for ever telling 
 How fair she is, all else excelling. 
 
 Bernard de Ventadour.* 
 
 * Albin. 
 * Lays of the Minnesingers, 
 
 Opinion. 
 
 Where there is much desire to learn, 
 there will of necessity be much arguing, 
 much, writing, many opinions ; for opi- 
 nion in good men is bjit knowledge in the 
 waking. — Milton. 
 
 Study and Editorship. 
 
 Study is a weariness without exercise, 
 a laborious sitting still, that racks the 
 inward and destroys the outward man;- 
 that sacrifices health to conceit, and clothes 
 the soul with the spoils of the body ; and, 
 like a stronger blast of lightnings not 
 only melts the sword, but consumes the 
 scabbard 
 
 Nature allows man. a great freedom, 
 and never gave an appetite but to 'be 
 instrumental of enjoyment, nor made a 
 desire but in order to the pleasure of its 
 satisfaction. But he that will encrease 
 knowledge must be content not to enjoy, 
 and not only to cut off the extravagances 
 of luxury, but also to deny the lawful 
 demands of convenience, to forswear de- 
 light, and look upon pleasure as his mor- 
 tal enemy. 
 
 He must call that study that is indeed 
 confinement; he must converse with 
 solitude ; walk, eat, and sleep, thinking ; 
 read volumes, devour the choicest authors, 
 and (like Pharaoh's kine), after he has 
 d-evoured all, look lean and meagre. He 
 must be willing to be sickly, weak, and 
 consumptive ; even to forget when he is 
 hungry, and to digest nothing but what he 
 reads. 
 
 He must read much, and perhaps 
 meet little ; turn over much trash for one 
 grain of truth ; study antiquity till he 
 feels the effects of it; and, like the cock 
 in the fable, seek pearls in a dunghill, 
 and, perhaps, rise to it as early. This is 
 
 " Esse quod Arcesilas aerumnasique 
 Solones," — to be always wearing a medi- 
 tating countenance, to ruminate, mutter, 
 and talk to a man's self for want of better 
 company; in short, to do all those things 
 which, in other men, are counted madness, 
 but, in a scholar, pass for his profession. 
 — South. 
 
 h. m. 
 April 18. Day breaks ... 2 46 
 Sun rises .... 5 1 
 — sets . . . . 6 59 
 Twilight ends . . 9 14 
 Ground ivy, or alehoof, abundantly in 
 flower. 
 The trilliam flowers. 
 
48X 
 
 THE YEAlt BOOK.-APRIL 18. 
 
 ■182 
 
 PEG TANKARD FROM GLASTONBURY ABBEY- 
 
 This ancient, cup, \rith a handle and 
 cover to it, exactly in the form of a modem 
 tankard, is of oak, and has been lackered, 
 especially in the inside, with a strong 
 vamish, probably with a view to its pre- 
 servation. It contains exactly two quarts 
 of ale measure. Within-side there were 
 originally eight pegs, which divided the 
 contained licjuor into equal quantities of 
 half a pint each. The four uppermost of 
 these pegs remain,- and the holes from 
 which the remaining four have fallen are 
 discernible. On the lid is carved the 
 
 Vol. I.— 16 
 
 crucifixion, with the Virgin on the right, 
 and St. John on the left of the cross. 
 The knob on the handle, designed for 
 raising the cover, represents a bunch of 
 grapes. The twelve apostles aye carved 
 round the body of the ciip, with their 
 names on labels, under their respective 
 figures. Each holds an open hook, ex- 
 cept St. Peter, who beats a key, St. John, 
 who supports a chalice,' and Judas Isca- 
 riot, who grasps at a purse. Beneath the 
 labels of the apostles are birds, beasts, 
 and full-blown flowers of different kinds ; 
 R 
 
483 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 18. 
 
 48-4 
 
 and under these again are serpents, which, 
 by two and two, joining their heads toge- 
 ther, form strange monsters. The three 
 feet on which the cup stands, and which 
 descend an inch below the body of it, 
 consist of as many figures of lions couch- 
 ant. With the exception respecting the 
 pegs, the cup is as perfect as when it first 
 came out of the workman's hands. 
 
 This peg tankard is one of the very few 
 articles which were saved from Wardour 
 castle, by Blanch, laSy Arundel, who nobly 
 defended that edifice against sir Edward 
 Hungerford, and colonel Strode, in the 
 absence of her husband, who had raised 
 a regiment of horse, and joined Charles I., 
 at Oxford. In one of the old inventories 
 of the effects belonging to Wardour castle, 
 this cup is mentioned as having been 
 brought from the ancient abbey of Glas- 
 tonbtiry, and was so much valued by the 
 lady Arundel, that, upon surrendering the 
 castle, she withdrew this cup, and certain 
 articles of her property, and, retiring to 
 Winchester, retained it as long as she 
 lived. It may be allowable, perhaps, to 
 observe that the earl of Arundel,'upon his 
 return from Oxford, finding his forces 
 insufficient for the recapture of his castle, 
 sprung a mine under it, and reduced it to 
 ruins. 
 
 King Edgar, in order to restrain the 
 prevailing habit of drunkenness which 
 had been introduced among his subjects 
 by the Danes, caused pins or pegs to be 
 fixed in drinking-cups, and ordained a 
 punishment to those who drank below 
 their proper marks. Dr. Milner imagines 
 that this prince would not have attempted 
 to enforce such a law upon the nation at 
 large, unless the people had been in some 
 degree prepared for it, by seeing it already 
 observed in their different religious com 
 munities ; and he assigns several reasons 
 for presuming that this peg-tankard was 
 in use in the abbey of Glastonbury before 
 the Norman conquest. One of his strong 
 grounds for this great antiquity is, that, 
 witfi the exception of three, -whose proper 
 emblems are deduced from Scripture 
 itself, the apostles are without the distinc- 
 tive' marks which^ from about the eleventh 
 or twelfth century, are usually aflixed to 
 their figures. A stronger ground is, that 
 the letters which compose the inscriptions 
 are of forms as old as the tenth or 
 eleventh century, if not older. 
 
 Dr. Milner concludes his dissertation 
 ■upon this peg-tankard, by saying, " The 
 size of this cup, and the pegs at equal 
 
 distances in the inside, together with the 
 traditionary account of the family to which 
 it belongs, seem clearly to point out the 
 use for which it Was intended, namely, 
 for several persons to drink out of, in 
 stated quantities, on particular occasions." 
 But the doctor immediately adds, " Hence 
 we may safely call this curious antique a . 
 grace-cup, pgculum charitatis, or wassel- 
 bowl."* With sincere respect for doctor 
 Milnet's deservedly high reputation as an 
 antiquary, the present writer cannot assent 
 to this inference : he is wholly ignorant 
 of any fact which can warrant the sup- 
 position that the wassail bowl and the 
 peg-tankard are one and the same. 
 
 Mr. Rhodes bought, at Yarmouth, a 
 woodeii tankard, with brass pins, which 
 he presented to doctor Pegge. It had on 
 its side these subjects. — Solomon enthron- 
 ed, with the queen of Sheba before him ; 
 Absalom suspended on a tree from his 
 horse, and Joab on horseback, thrusting a 
 spear through his side; David above, play- 
 ing on a harp ; Jacob's dream ; Abraham's 
 sacrifice ; under the handle, God creating 
 Eve: on the rim, over the figures, were 
 inscriptions relating to them. • On the 
 lid was a representation of Abraham en- 
 tertaining three Angels.f 
 
 Some of these peg-tankards, or pegor pin- 
 cups, are yet to be found in the cabinets 
 of antiquaries; and from their former 
 use may be traced some common current 
 terms. We say of a person who is much 
 elated, he is in a " merry pin," which, no 
 doubt, originally meant he had drank to 
 that « pin," or mark, which had rendered 
 him less sedate than usual.J: Cowper 
 says of John Gilpin he was " in merry 
 pin." 
 
 Demolition op St. Michaju-'s Chubch, 
 Ceooked Lane London. 
 On Sunday morning the 20th of March* 
 1831, a crowded congregation assembled 
 at the above church, on the occasion of 
 the celebration of divine service for the 
 last time, preparatory to the pulling doWii 
 of the edifice for the approiiches to the 
 New London-bridge. " A sermon was to 
 have been preached by the Rector, the 
 Rev. Dr. Dakins, for the benefit of Bridge, 
 
 * j1 rchajlo^ia. ini. 
 
 t Gents. Mag. Ixy. 388. 
 
 t Brady's Clavis Calendaria, 
 
*Sb 
 
 TUE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 18. 
 
 486 
 
 Candlewick, and Dowgate Wand schools ; 
 and the church, which was erected hy 
 Sir Christopher Wreu, and is peculiarly 
 neat and handsome, with numerous tablets 
 on its walls, to the memory of the dead, 
 presented at the commencement of ^e 
 service a very interesting spectacle. All 
 the pews, and the different aisle^ were 
 fiUea to excess. The charity children, 
 accompanied by the organ, sang with im^ 
 pressive effect, ' Before Jehovah's awful 
 Throne,' in which they were joined by 
 the voices of numerous individuals in the 
 congregation, whose feelings were evident- 
 ly touched with the solemnity of meeting 
 for the last time in the church. Just 
 about the conclusion of the reading of the 
 second lesson, part of the mortar in the 
 cornice of the ceiling over the altar where 
 the rector was stationed fell down. Im- 
 mediate alarm seized the congregation, 
 and the larger portion, under apprehension , 
 that the church was faltiug, rushed with 
 terror towards the door. For several 
 minutes the screams and thronging for 
 escajie were appalling, while strenuous 
 efforts were made to compose the minds 
 of those who remained,;by assuring them 
 that no danger was to be apprehended. 
 The Rector went into the reading desk, 
 where he earnestly entreated the congre- 
 gation to return to their seats, and directed 
 the singing of the 93d psalm. This had 
 partly proceeded, and the congregation 
 was gradually re-assembling, when a 
 second and somewhat larger fall of mortar 
 from the same spot instantaneously renew- 
 ed the terror, and compelled the service 
 to be abruptly concluded, to the great in- 
 jury of the collection for the charaty, and 
 the regret and dismay of the persons as- 
 sembled. 
 
 " It has been stated that great blame is 
 attributable to the city authorities, in eon- 
 sequence of their permitting the excava- 
 tions for the London-bridge approaches to 
 extend so near to the church, before the 
 time that it could cease to be used for di- 
 vine service ; and it is particularly to be 
 regretted that the committee of the corpo- 
 ration have intimated their intention to 
 withdraw their promised contribution of 
 20t to the charity schools in aid. of the 
 sermon, because, as they allef e, greater 
 haste was not adopted towards removing 
 the monuments from the church ; but the 
 reverend Rector cheerfully acceded to an 
 application, made to him in the vestryr 
 room by the trustees,.to preach his intended 
 sermon next- Sutiday morning, at St. 
 
 Magnus church, for the charity, which has 
 also materially suffered in its funds <iom 
 the numerous houses lately pulled down 
 for the London-bridge approaches." 
 
 On the following Sunday, March 27, 
 in pursuance of the intimation in the pre- 
 ceeamg statement, which i? eictracted 
 from The Times journal, the rector of St. 
 Michaels, the Rev. William Whitfield 
 Dakins, T>. D., F. S. A., chaplain to their 
 royal highnesses the duke of Cambridge, 
 and the duke of Gloucester, delivered » 
 discourse for the benefit of the ward schools 
 at the spacious and handsomie church of 
 St. Magnus the Martyr, London Bridge, 
 which m addition to its own parishioners 
 accommodates the parishioners of St, Mar- 
 garet, and henceforth receives the par- 
 ishioners of St. Michael's Crooked Lane. 
 The Rev. Mr. Leigh, rector of St. Magnus, 
 and the Rev. Mr. Durhfim, master ef St. 
 Paul's school, assisted in the celebration 
 of, |he service. Dr. Dakins preached 
 from 1 Samuel vi. 6 : " And they said, if 
 ye send away the ark of the God of Israel, 
 send it not empty, but in anywise return 
 him a trespass offering." In the course of 
 his sermon the DoptQr adverted to the 
 question " on the consistency of taking 
 down a sacred edjfice, and providing for 
 the spiritual wants of its congregation." 
 in reference to the church of St. Michaels, 
 Crooked-Lane, the Doctor observed 
 " The consistency in the instance before 
 us, is grounded, according to statement, 
 upon the broad principle of necessity; 
 for the accomplishment of a grand and< 
 noble design. If it has been acted upon 
 with due regard to the requirements of 
 justice anddignity towards privjtte as well 
 as public interests, with tender respect for 
 amiable, kind, and christian affections, with 
 a view at the same to provide for religious 
 obligations, as well as temporal purposes, 
 then the necessity is justified by the best 
 motives. Still the demolition of a parisji. 
 church is, for many reasons, a serious anl 
 lamentable rejection." 'The reverend. 
 Doctor adverted with much feeling to the 
 disinterment of the remains, and th,? re-, 
 mbval of the several monuments of the 
 deceased of his flock. The disturbance 
 of the worship of his parishioners,, on the 
 precjeding sabbath, within their own 
 edifice afforded solemn remark, and led 
 to earnest appea. in behalf of the children 
 of the schools. The service closed with a 
 contribution in aid of the funds, from the 
 united congregation of the three parishes. 
 
487 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 19. 
 
 488 
 
 It was aided by several visitors who were 
 attracted by the intelligence of the terri- 
 fying accident which dispersed the con- 
 gregation. 
 
 ajjtii 19. 
 
 On the 19th of April, 1710, four Ame- 
 rican leaders or chieftains of the Six In- 
 dian Nations, between New England and 
 Canada, were conveyed, under the digni- 
 fied title of kings, from their lodgings at 
 an upholsterer's, in two of queen Anne's 
 coaches, to an audience of her majesty at 
 court ; when they professed the strongest 
 attachment to the English interest, in op- 
 position to that of France, and requested 
 the queen to send them troops for their 
 defence, and missionaries to instruct them 
 in the Christian religion. They were 
 graciously received, and as graciously re- 
 ceived such presents as were thought most 
 acceptable to their liking. There is a 
 mezzotinto engraving of their portraits by 
 Faber, and another in the same style by 
 Simon. The Spoctator contains a paper, 
 pretended to have j^en left by one of 
 them at his lodjmgs, expressing his ob- 
 servations upon our manners and customs, 
 St. Paul's Church, the animals called 
 whig and tory, and many other circum- 
 stances. It is highly entertaining and 
 in Addison's happiest manner.* 
 
 upon him what surname, and as many 
 surnames, as he pleases, without an act of 
 parliament." The same opinion has been 
 lately expressed by Lord Tenterden in the 
 case of Doe v. Yates, 5 Barn and Aid. 
 544. : " A name assumed by the voluntary 
 act of a young man," said his lordship, 
 "at his outset into life, adopted by all 
 who know him, and by which he is con- 
 stantly called, becomes, for all purposes 
 that occur to my mind, as much and effec- 
 tually his name as if he had an act of 
 parliament.'' It is proper to observe that 
 the caso of Barlow v. Bateman,.2 Bro. 
 Pari. Ca. 272., although it reversed bir 
 Joseph Jekyll's decision, does not inter- 
 fere with this principle, but was decided 
 upon its special circumstacces. See 
 Leigh V. Leigh, 15 Ves. 100, 111; 1 
 Roper on Legacies, 725. 
 
 It may therefore be laio down, that any 
 person who chooses to change his name 
 may do so ; and, if he do it when yoang, 
 so much the more complete will be the 
 alteration. 
 
 Concerning names derived from local 
 residence, see Camden's Remains, ed. 
 1637, 141 ; 3 B. and A. 552 n. A sin- 
 gular custom exists to this day in Wales, 
 amongst the lower orders. It John Tho- 
 mas have a son named David, he is called 
 David John, and not David Thomas, — 
 after the Christian name of his father.* 
 
 Change cf Name. 
 
 By the accident of "birth, or by some 
 other capricious circumstance, many per- 
 sons undergo much mortification and 
 annoyance, from bearing some absurd or 
 unpronounceable surname. An act of 
 parliament, or licence, to change a name, 
 may be necessary in certain cases, where 
 it is distinctly directed by deed or will to 
 be obtained; but in all other cases a name 
 may be changed at pleasure, without any 
 expense whatever. In the case of Barlow 
 y. Bateman, 3 P. Will. 66; Sir Joseph 
 Jekyll, M. R., says, " Surnames are not 
 of very great antiquity, for, in ancient 
 times, the appellations of persons were 
 by their christian names, and the places of 
 their habitations, as Thomas of Dale ; viz., 
 the place where he lived. I am satisfied 
 the usage of passing acts of parliaments 
 for the taking upon one a surname is but 
 modern, and that any person may take 
 
 • Noble. 
 
 Punning Mottoes on Noble Najies. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 1. Cavendo tutus — Safe in being cau- 
 tious. 
 
 William Spencer Cavendish, Duke of 
 Devonshire. , 
 
 2. Templa quam dilecta — How beloved 
 are thy 'temples 1 
 
 Richard Templej &c., Duke of Buck- 
 ingham, &c., and Earl Temple, &c. 
 
 3. Vorte scatum salus ducum — ^A strong 
 shield is the safety of commanders. 
 
 Hugh, Earl Tortescue. 
 
 4. Ne vile fano — Offer no disgrace to 
 the shrine, or fane. 
 
 John Fane, Earl of Westmorland. 
 
 5. Pie repone te — Rest in pious con- 
 fidence. 
 
 Charles Herbert Pierrepont, Earl Man- 
 vers. 
 
 6. Festina lente — Temper haste with 
 prudence; or (a more literal translation) 
 Go on slow. 
 
 * Lfjal Observsr, Feb. 5, 1831. 
 
489 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 20. 
 
 490 
 
 Earl of Onslow. 
 
 7. JIfanus justa nardaa — ^The just hand 
 is as precious ointment. 
 
 Viscount Maynard. 
 
 8. Ver non, semper viret — The spring 
 does not always flourish ; or Vernon 
 always flourishes. 
 
 Lord Vernon. 
 
 9. At spes non fracta — But my hope is 
 unbroken. 
 
 John Hope, Earl of Hopetoun. 
 .10. Ware fat — Speak, act. 
 Lord Fairfax. 
 
 11. Numini et patris aslo — ^I stand by 
 my God and my Country. 
 
 Lord Aston. 
 
 12. Tov amgivtlv ivtKa — In order to excel. 
 This is a motto round the garter in the 
 crest of Lord Henniker. To those who 
 are not Greek scholars it is necessary to 
 remark, that the last Greek word in this 
 motto is pronounced in the same way as 
 the name of Henniker. 
 
 13. Ne vile velis — Wish for nothing 
 mean. 
 
 Henry Neville, Earl of Abergavenny. 
 
 14. Deum cole, regem serva — Worship 
 God, honor the King. 
 
 John Willoughby Cole, Earl of Ennis- 
 killen. 
 
 15. I dare — ^Robert Alexander Dahell, 
 Earl of Carnwath. A favorite and near 
 kinsman of Kenneth I., having been taken 
 prisoner by the Picts, was slain, and ex- 
 posed hanging on a gibbet. The King, 
 exceedingly grieved at this indignity, 
 oflered a great reward to any one . who 
 would undertake to recover the body ; but 
 the danger of the attempt was so immi- 
 nent that, for some time, no one could be 
 found to adventure it, till the ancestor of 
 this family came forward, and said to the 
 King, " ball Zell," which, in the ancient 
 Scottish language, signified, " Idare,"&nd, 
 having successfully performed his under- 
 taking, took Dalzell for his surname, and 
 a naked body suspended oo a gibbet for 
 bis armorial ensigns. 
 
 16. Vero nil, verius — IVothing is more 
 certain than truth, or nothing is more true 
 than Vere. 
 
 Vere Beauclerk, Lord Vere. This title 
 is now extinct. 
 
 The authority for these mottoes is De- 
 brett's Peerage. 
 
 J. K. 
 
 -. 
 
 
 b. 
 
 m. 
 
 April 19. 
 
 Day breaks . 
 
 2 43 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . , 4 
 
 59 
 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . . r 
 
 1 
 
 
 Twilight ends 
 •leavedNarcissus 
 
 . . 9 
 
 17 
 
 Narrow 
 
 flowers. 
 
 
 The shake appears. 
 
 
 
 ^pril 20. 
 
 On the 20th of April, 1721, died Louis 
 Laguerre, an artist of note in his days ; 
 his remains were interred in the cemetery 
 of St. Martin's in the Fields. He was a 
 Catalan by descent, a Parisian by birth, a 
 god-son of Louis XIV., and a favorite 
 with William III. He had been educated 
 for the priesthood, but an impediment in 
 his speech occasioned him to follow the 
 arts to which he was devoted, as hia 
 father-in-law, John Tijore, the iron balus- 
 trade founder, had been, who said, " God 
 had made him a painter, and there left 
 him;" alluding to that simplicity of 
 character which forbade his seizing ad- 
 vantages that presented themselves to 
 him. Laguerre studied under Le Brun, 
 came to England in 1683, with Ricard, 
 and both were employed by Verrio. At 
 the age of twenty he obtained considerable 
 reputation, by executing the greater part of 
 the painting at St. Bartholomew's Hospital. 
 Much of his work still remains on the ceil- 
 ings and stair-cases of several noblemen's 
 houses, and particularly in the saloon at 
 Blenheim. His principal works are, the 
 Labors of Hercules, in chiaro oscuro, in 
 the apartments at Hampton Court, allotted 
 to him by William III., for whom he re- 
 paired the valuable picture, the Triumph 
 of Julius Csesar, by Andrea Mantegna; 
 which he did in a masterly manner, by 
 imitating the original, instead of new- 
 clothing them with vermilion and ultra- 
 marine, as Carlo Maratti did the works of 
 . Raphael. His son John relinquished 
 the pencil to sing upon the stage, and 
 Laguerre, then declining with dropsy, 
 ■went to the theatre in Drury Lane to hear 
 him, and there died before the " Island 
 Princess " began. He seems to have been 
 an obliging unoffending man. As mem- 
 ber of a society of virtuosi, who met in 
 Drury Lane, he painted around their 
 room a Bacchanalian procession, in 
 chiaro oscuro. His mode of ornamenting 
 the grand apartments of palaces and no- 
 blemen's houses was satyrized by Pope's 
 well-known lines . — 
 
491 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 20, 
 
 492 
 
 " On paioted ceilings you devoutly stare. 
 Where sprawl the saints of Verrio aud La- 
 guerre." 
 
 The younger Laguerre is supposed, by 
 lord Orford, to have become a scene- 
 painter J but he died very poor, in March, 
 1746. His set of prints of " Hob in the 
 Well " had a great sale.* 
 
 CuBIOSITIES AND SeCRXTS OF NaTURE. 
 {For the Year Book.] 
 
 The following extracts are from a book 
 in my possession, entitled " The Magick 
 of Kirani, King of Persia, and of Harpo- 
 crationj" printed in the year 1685, " a 
 work much sought for by the learned, but 
 seen by few," and " published from a 
 'copy found in a private hand." 
 
 An account of the medical virtues of 
 the stork, which is described as being " a 
 very good bird," contains this account of 
 a bird-battle. " Presently, when the 
 spring coriies, they (the storks) pioceed 
 all together, like an army, and fly in divers 
 "figures, as wild geese and ducks ; and all 
 sorts of birds fly out of Egypt, Lybia, 
 <and Syria, and come into Lycia, to a 
 river called <Zanthus, and in the same 
 place they engage in battle with ravens 
 and crows, and magpies, and vultures, 
 and with all carnivorous fowl ; for they 
 know the time aforehand, and all come 
 hither. The army of Storks put themselves 
 in battalia on one side of the river ; and 
 the crows, and vultures, and all the carni- 
 vorous birds tarry on the other side of the 
 river. And they 'tarry the whole sixth 
 month for battel, for they know the days 
 whereon they are to engage. And t!.en 
 a cry is heard to the very lieavens, and 
 the shedding of the blood of the wounded 
 birds is seen in l!he river, and the -plucking 
 off of many feathers, of which the Lycians 
 make feather beds. And after thalt thi? 
 field is cleared they find the crows, and 
 all carnivorous birds, torn in pieces ; like- 
 'wise 'stcirks and pelicans, and no sihall 
 number of such as are of their side ; for 
 taany of 'the birds fall down dead in Ahe 
 battel. And this contention among them, 
 and victory, on whether side soever it 
 falls, is a sign to all men. For, if the 
 ■army of Storks be conquerors, there will 
 •be riches, and abundance of bread-corn, 
 and- other fruits on the earth ; but, if the 
 crows get the better, there vvill be a mul- 
 titude of sheep and oxen, and other foUr- 
 
 • NoWe. 
 
 footed beasts. And the storks have 
 another certain, excellent, natural quality. 
 For when the parents are grown old, and 
 are not able to fly, their children, on every 
 side, carry -them upon their wings from 
 place to plade, and also tnaintain them ; 
 and, if they be blind, their children feeil 
 them: this retribution, and due gratitude 
 from children to parents, is called antipe- 
 largia, i. e. stork-gratitude. . And, if any 
 one take the heart Of a stork, conqueror 
 in war, andti« it up in the skin of a 
 hawk, or of a vulture, that is conquered, 
 and write on the heart, < because I have 
 conquered mine eneinies,' and shall tie 
 it to his right arm, he that carries it will 
 be invincib'k by all, and admirable in 
 war, and in all oontroversies, and his 
 victory will be irrefragable and great." 
 
 Perhaps it would be as ivell, before 
 proceeding further, to speak a little of the 
 book which furnishes these particulars. 
 Harpocration describes himself as travell- 
 img in the country -of Babylon, and as 
 coming to little Alexandria, a city seven- 
 teen Persian miles distant from Seleuticu, 
 and near Babylon, where he met with an 
 old man, a. Syrian captive, skilled in fo- 
 reign learniihg, who showed him every 
 thing remarkable. — " And when we came 
 to a certain place, about four miles distant 
 from the city, we saw a pillar, with a great 
 tower, which the inhabitants say they 
 brought from the edifice of Solomon, and 
 placed it there for the health and cure of 
 the men of that city. Looking, therefore^ 
 well upon it, I found it was written in 
 strange letters ; the old roan, therefore, 
 agreed to interpret the letters to me, and 
 expounded (hem to me in the Eolich 
 tongue." The receipts of this book, then, 
 are from this pillar ; those of Kiiani are 
 supposed to have been the great gift of 
 the Agarenes to him. 
 
 The descriptions of natural history are, 
 in some instances, very singular. — "There 
 is a tree in India called peridexion, whose 
 fruit is sweet and useful, so that doves also 
 delight to tarry in it; and the serpent 
 ifears this tree, so that he avoids the sha- 
 dow of it; for, if the shadow of the tree 
 go towards iflie east, the serpent flies 
 towards the west ; and if the shadow of 
 the tree reach towards the west, the serpent 
 flies towards the east : and the serpent 
 cannot hurt the doves, because of the 
 virtue of the tree; but if any of them 
 straggle from the tree, the serpent, by its 
 breath, attracts it and devours it. Yet, 
 when they fly, or go together neither the 
 
493 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 20. 
 
 494 
 
 serpent nor the spar-hawk can, or dares 
 hurt them. Therefore the leaves or bark 
 of the tree, suffumigated, avert all evil that 
 is of venomous beasts." 
 
 Every person is acquaunted with the 
 popular notion that the pelican feeds her 
 young with her blood, but it was affirmed, 
 anciently, to have been for a much more 
 wonderful purpose. " Paft^ioa is a bird, 
 by the river Nile, which is called a pelican 
 and lives in the fens of £gypt ; she loves 
 her brood extremely well, when, therefore, 
 the young ones are hatched, and grown 
 a little, they cpntinually beat the old ones 
 in the iace; but they, not being able to 
 endure it, cuff their young ones, and kill 
 them ; then, moving the bowels of com- 
 passion over them, they lament their 
 young ones, which they killed ; the same 
 day, therefore, the mother, to get her chil- 
 dren, tears open her sides, and shedding 
 her own blood over her children, she 
 revives them, and they rise again, in s^ 
 certain natural manner." Heralds should 
 be aware of this, on account of its differ- 
 ent signification on certain coats of arms. 
 " But a Peacock is a more sacred bird. 
 Its eggs are good to make a golden color, 
 and so are goose eggs ; and when a pea- 
 cock is dead, his flesh does not decay, nor 
 yield any stinking smell, but continues as 
 it were embalmed in spices." 
 
 To continue the extracts — " A swallow 
 which, in the spring, raises all people by 
 singing; and it has such actions as these : 
 If any one take its young ones, and put 
 them in a pot, and when it is luted up, 
 bake them, then, opening the pot, if he 
 considers, he will find two young ones 
 kissing one another ; and two turning one 
 from the other. If therefore, you take 
 those two that kiss one another, and dis- 
 solve them in oil of roses, or give the 
 ashes in drink, it is a love potion ; but 
 you Tsay dissolve this, if you give a little 
 of the ashes of those that turn one from 
 another in oyntment or drink. — If any one 
 cut out the tongue of a goose alive, and lay it 
 upon the breast of a man or woman asleep, 
 they will confess all that ever they have 
 doBe.-;~For love, between a man and bis 
 wife. If a^an carry the' heart of a male 
 crow, 9nd a woman the heart of a female, 
 they will agree between themselves all 
 their life-time ; and this miracle is certain. 
 — ^To open locks, doori^ bolts, and to tame 
 wild beasts, arid to be beloved of all, and 
 to acquire all things, that whatever you 
 please may be done for you. If you stop 
 the hole of a tree, in which the young 
 
 ones of a woodpecker are, he shall carry 
 the herb which he knows, and, touching 
 it, it opens- ; for, if it be .made of clay 
 or chalk, the dirt will fall ; if of stone, 
 it bursts ; if a wooden board or an iron 
 plate be so fastened with nails, all things 
 cleave and break in pieces, upon the 
 touch of the herb, and the woodpecker 
 opens and takes out her young ones. If 
 any one, therefore, have gpt this herb, he 
 will do many things which are not now 
 lawful to mention, as of the most divine 
 nature, which man cannot perform. If, 
 therefore, any man engrave a woodpecker 
 on the stone dendrites, and a sea-dragon 
 under its feet, and enclose the herb under- 
 neath it which the woodpecker found 
 and carried, every gate will open to him, 
 and bolts and locks ; savage beasts will 
 also obey him, and come to tameness ; he 
 shall ailso be beloved and observed of all, 
 and whatever he hath a mind to he shall 
 acquire and perfo''m. Thus far nature : 
 but he that carries it shall learn those 
 things ths^t aie in the gods; shall open 
 Iqcks, and loose chains, shall pacify all 
 wild beasts by the will which is in heaven 
 shall assuage the waves of the terrible 
 sea, shall chase away all devils, and shall 
 appear good to all men." So, then, this 
 secret in the tale of master Peter Block, 
 in the German tale of " the Treasure 
 Seeker/' which was thought a novelty, 
 has been known for centuries. There is 
 a tale, of a tub being made a receptacle 
 for the dresses of succeeding generations, 
 and at the end of a century turned upside 
 down, opened at the bottom, and lo ! they 
 are new fashions. 
 
 But, to return: the descriptibn of a 
 hyena is remarkable. — " The hyena is a 
 four-footed animal, savage, and ambigu- 
 ous ; for this creature is bom female,' and, 
 after a year, turns male, and then, for the 
 next year, tarns female again, and brings 
 forth, and gives suck : and the gall of this 
 animal, being sweet, has efficacy for a 
 miracle ; and a great miracle is made of 
 it : and this is the composition : — ^Take 
 the eyes of the fish glaucns, and the right 
 eye nf the said hyena, and all that is liquid 
 6f the said hyena; dissolve all together, 
 and pot it up in a glass vessel, covering 
 it wfeU. If, therefore, you will show a 
 great miracle, when you have set a light, 
 mix the fat of any creeping thing, or 
 four-footed beast, you please, with a little 
 of the foresaid composition ; if you anoint 
 the wick of the lamp or caiiidle> they will 
 think it is the beast of whieib it is the. fat. 
 
495 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— APRIL 21. 
 
 496 
 
 whether of a lion, bull, serpent, or any 
 other creature. If, therefore, you will 
 work a miracle, or a phantom, put a little 
 fat of what animal or wild beast you 
 please, with a little quantity of the con- 
 fection, upon burning coals, in the middle 
 of the house, and the beast will appear 
 whose fat you mixed with it. And you may 
 do the same with birds. And if you mix 
 a little sea-water with the composition, 
 and sprinkle among the guests, they will 
 all Sy, thinking that the sea is in the 
 midst of them." 
 
 These extracts were designed to extend 
 to other curious receipts, but they may 
 be deferred without inconvenience, per- 
 haps, to a future period. 
 
 F. W. Faikholt. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 April 20. Day breaks . . 2 40 
 
 Sun rises .... 4 57 
 
 — sets .... 7 3 
 
 Twilight ends . . 9 20 
 
 British snowflake flowers. 
 
 Martin, hirundo urbica, arrives ; but is 
 not common till the second week in 
 May. 
 
 april 21. 
 
 On the 21st of April, 1142, died Peter 
 Abelard, whose story in relation to Eloisa 
 is rendered familiar by the versification of 
 Pope. 
 
 Abelard had some religious opinions 
 at variance with those of the church, and, 
 being condemned by a council held at 
 Sens, set out for Rome, in 1 139, to appeal 
 to the pope. Upon reaching the abbey of 
 Cluny, Pierre le Venerable received him 
 with distinction, and dissaudfd him from 
 prosecuting his journey. He spent two 
 years at this abbey in exemplary piety, 
 when, being attacked by an acute disease, 
 he removed for change of air to the priory 
 of Saint Marcel, near Ch^lons-sur-Saorie, 
 where he died on the 21st of April, 1142, 
 at the age of sixty-three years, and was in- 
 terred in the chapel of the priory, in a 
 tomb built by Pierre le Venerable. 
 
 The remains, of Abelard did not repose 
 long in this situation. Heloisa acquainted 
 the abbot of Clany that her husband had 
 promised that his body should be diepo- 
 posited at the abbey of the Paraclete, 
 which he himself had founded. Pierre 
 le Venerable caused the body to be disin- 
 terred, and conveyed to the Paraclete, 
 where it was deposited in a chapel, called 
 Petit Moustier. 
 
 Heloisa died on the 7th of May, 1163^ 
 and, in conformity to her will> was buried 
 in the same tomb as her husband. In 
 1497 their bodies were placed in separate 
 coffins, transferred to the grand church of 
 the abbey, and deposited in tombs at the 
 entrance of choir; In 1630 the abbess 
 Marie de la Rochefoucauld caused the 
 two tombs to be placed in the chapel de 
 Trinity. Madame Catherine de la Roche- 
 foucauld formed the project of erecting a 
 new monument to the memory of the 
 founder and first abbess of her monastery;' 
 it was executed in 1 779, and consisted of 
 figures, formed of a single block of stone, 
 representing the three persons in the Tri- 
 nity, upon an equal base. At the disso- 
 lution of the monasteries, in 1792, the 
 principal inhabitants of Nogent-siir-Seiiie 
 went in grand procession to the Paracleie, 
 to transfer the remains of Abelard and 
 Heloisa to a vault in their church; and the 
 rector pronounced an address adapted to 
 the occasion. 
 
 In 1 799, M. Lenoir, keeper of the Musde 
 des Monumens Franpais, obtained per- 
 mission to transport the remains of Abe- 
 lard and Heloisa to Paris. For this pur- 
 pose he repaired to the church of Nogent, 
 on the 23rd of April, 1800, accompanied 
 by the magistrates of the city, and the re- 
 mains were surrendeied to him. They 
 were in a leaden coffin, divided by a par- 
 tition, and bearing on the sides the names 
 of Abelard and Heloisa-. Upon opening 
 the coffin many of the bones of both 
 were found in good preservation. The 
 tomb built for Abelard for Pierre le Ve- 
 nerable at the' priory of Saint Marcel was 
 at that time in the possession of a physi- 
 cian at Ch&lons, who sent it to M.Lenoir. 
 In this tomb, from which the body of 
 Abelard had been removed nearly seven 
 centuries before, the remains were depo- 
 sited, and placed in a sepulchral chapel; 
 constructed from the ruins of the Para- 
 clete. This chapel is now the most pic- 
 turesque and interesting ornament in the 
 cemetery of Pfere la Chaise.* 
 
 — h. m. 
 
 April 21. Daybreaks . . • 2 37 
 
 Sun rises . . . . 4 56 
 
 — sets .... 7 4 
 
 Twilight ends . . 9 23 
 
 Narrow waved Narcissus, Narcissus 
 augmtifolius, flowers. 
 
 The cuckoo is commonly heard. 
 
 The wryneck, or cuckoo's mate heard, 
 daily. 
 
 ■ History of Paris, iii. 36. 
 
497 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK,— APRIL 21. 
 
 498 
 
 AN APRIL SHOWER. 
 
 It is really a smart shower, but 
 
 April rain seldom lasts. What a quantity 
 of water ! It flows as clear as chrystal. 
 
 Look at those children shrinking 
 
 below their heavy umbrella — the youngest 
 cuddles under the elder one's cloak ; put- 
 ting it aside to let in the fresh warm ^ir, 
 and look out upon all around. I warrant 
 they are merry ones in a fine day, or before 
 a winter's fire. 
 
 It a shower, ibdeed ! The thirsty 
 
 earth eagerly drinks the streams ; and in a 
 few days will pay abundantly'^ r its needful 
 refreshment. For these rains we shall have 
 loads of grass and flowers ; we may ex- 
 pect a 'fine summer and good crops of 
 grain and fruit. The huddling young 
 ones think nothing of these matters. Poor 
 things ! they are ignorant that momentary 
 deluges in the spring will: yield them 
 ample stores of delight by anrj by ; but 
 then, in the sunny days they will overheat 
 •themselves in the meadows, and eat fruit 
 to intemperance, and get fevers and in- 
 
 digestions. Poor things ! " The young 
 ones think the old ones fools— but the old 
 ones know the young ones to be so." 
 
 But do we know ourselves ? In the 
 tempests of life we cling and cower, and 
 see nothing beyond the turmoil ; and we 
 drive on to the end of our journey, not 
 ignorant, but regardless that a storm of 
 adversity is often succeeded by a harves* 
 of prosperity. And we call the adversitt- 
 a trial ; but how do we bear- the greatei 
 trial of prosperity 1 We then abuse tht 
 good within our power, and pamper our 
 •pelves ; become proud spendthrifts or meat 
 misers ; not recollecting what we werp 
 and not knowing what we are. And as 
 we crawl, or Cluster towards our graves, 
 we complain of the evils of life— ^most of 
 them having been of our own making, and 
 the rest not received as lessons for self ex- 
 amination, but as inteuuptions to a hap- 
 piness we were continually seeking, and 
 which, when found, was joyless. Are we 
 wiser than children in a shower ? 
 
499 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 22. 
 
 500 
 
 There is a folio sized etching of a whole 
 length portrait of John Bigg, "the Dinlon 
 Hermit, in a clouted dress, with the fol- 
 lowing inscription : — " John Bigg, the 
 Dinton Hermit, baptized 22d April, 1629, 
 buried 4th April, 1696. Browne Willis 
 gives the following particulars of this 
 man out of a letter written to him by 
 Thomas Heme, dated Oxon, Feb. 12, 
 1712. He was formerly clerk to Simon 
 Mayne, of Dinton, one of the judges 
 who passed sentence on king Charles the 
 First. He lived at Dinton (Co. Bucks), 
 in a cave, had been a man of tolerable 
 wealth, was looked upon as a pretty good 
 scholar, and of no contemptible parts. 
 Upon the Restoration he grew melan- 
 choly, betook himself to a recluse life, 
 and lived by charity, but never asked for 
 any thing but leather, which he would 
 immediately nail to his shoes. He kept 
 three bottles, that hung to his girdle; 
 viz., for strong and small beer, and milk : 
 his shoes are still preserved : they are 
 very large, and made up of about a thou- 
 sand patches of leather One of them is 
 in the Bodleian Repository, the other in 
 the collection of Sir John Vanhatten, of 
 Dinton, who had his cave dug up some 
 years since, in hopes of discovering some- 
 thing relative to him, but without suc- 
 cess. This print is etched from a picture 
 in the possession of Scroop Bernard, Esq., 
 of Nether 'VVjnchendon, Bucks.'' 
 
 " Nothing like Leather." 
 
 A town tear'd a siege and held cmsultalion 
 Which, was the best method of fortification ; 
 A gr^ve skilful mason said, in his opinion. 
 That nothing but stone could secure the. do- 
 minion ; 
 A carpentei said, though that was well spoke. 
 It was better by far to defend it with oak ; 
 A currier, wiser than both these together, 
 Said, '* try what you please — there's nothing 
 like leather." 
 
 Old felling Book. 
 
 Belonging to the reign of queen of 
 /Vnne there is another portrait of another 
 remarkable charactei* — one Thomas Bas- 
 kerville, of Bayworth, in the parish of 
 Sunningwell, near Abingdon, author of a 
 Journal of his Travels through a great 
 part of England in the years 1677 and 
 1678, which is still in manuscript. He 
 " was a person of learning and curiosity, 
 particularly in his youbger days, when he 
 
 was commonly known to the Oxford 
 students by the nickname of the king of 
 Jerusalem ; but in the latter one he grew 
 musty and unfit for conversation. In 
 figure and dress he affected some of those 
 singularities which naturally adhere to 
 recluse speculation and habitual retire- 
 ment" Baskerville lived to a very ad- 
 vanced age. His portrait was engraved 
 when he was only 70 Many of his 
 MSS. went with the Harleian Collection 
 $0 the British Museum. He died about 
 1705. 
 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 April 22. 
 
 Day breaks . . 
 
 . 2 35 
 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 . 4 54, 
 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 . 7 6 
 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 9 25 
 
 Marsh marigold flowers plentifully. 
 
 ^prtl 23. 
 
 St. Georges's Day. 
 Accounts of this saint, and the cele- 
 bratipn of his festival, are in the Every 
 Day Book. 
 
 Wilkes and 45. 
 [For the Year Book.J 
 
 On the 23rd of April, 1763, John 
 Wilkes published the "North Britain. 
 No. 45," which was ordered by the 
 House of Commons to be burnt by the 
 hands of the common hangman. 
 
 It is a curious coincidence that Wilkes's 
 name, and the offices he was successively 
 elected to fill were composed of 45 letters, 
 as will be found in the following lines : — 
 The Right Honourable John WilkSs, Lord 
 
 Mayor of London. 
 John Wilkes, Esquire, Sheriff for London 
 
 and Middlesex. 
 John Wilkes, Esquire, Knight of the 
 
 Shire for Middlesex. 
 John Wilkes, Esquire, Alderman for Far- 
 
 ringdon Without. 
 John Wilkes, Esquire, Chamberlain of 
 
 the City of London. 
 
 Hehry Brandon. 
 
 Mary-le-bone Garden's. 
 
 Morley, near Leeds, Yqrkshire, 
 Mr. Hone,— If your idea* shall cor- 
 respond with those of a writer in page 
 318 of your Year Booh, a few lines upon 
 the subject of Mary^e-bone may not he 
 unacceptable. My grandfather, a rector 
 of North Tidmouth, in'Wiltshiio, was, I 
 
SOI 
 
 THE YEAR BOOR.— APRIL 23. 
 
 502 
 
 think, also connected tvith the old church 
 at the fonner place; at all events he oc- 
 casionally officiated at that church. He 
 rented the fine ancient structure nearly 
 -opposite thereto, called " Mairy-le-hone 
 Manor House," a view of which, with the 
 gardens, park, and environs, as they ap- 
 peared in Queen Elizabeth's reign, I have 
 in my possession ; and the engraving, per- 
 haps, maybe had of Messrs. Nichols, Son, 
 and Bentley. Tradition reports, that this 
 was a palace of Elizabeth ; &oni her it 
 came by grant to the Forsyths, and thence 
 to the Duke of Portland. The plate 
 alluded to is " dedicated to the noblemen 
 and gentlemen educated at this noble 
 mansion ;" where, in the early part of the 
 last century, a considerable school was 
 kept bya Mr.De la Place, whose daughter, 
 my grandfather, the Rev. John Fountayne, 
 marrying, succeeded him in the school. 
 About 1786, or 7, as I should think, he 
 died, and in 1791 the house was pulled 
 down, and some lively stables were upon 
 the site of it when I was last in London. 
 Havdng been at this school, from my in- 
 fancy almost, down to about 1790, 1 have 
 a perfect recollection of this fine and inter- 
 esting house with its beautiful saloon and 
 gallery, in which private concerts were 
 held occasionally, and the first instru- 
 mental performers attended. My grand- 
 father, as I have been told, was an en- 
 thusiast in music, and cultivated, most of 
 all, the friendship of musical men, es- 
 pecially of Handel, who visited him often 
 and hada great predilection for his society. 
 This leads me to relate aii anecdote which 
 I liave on the best authority, but first I 
 must speak of Mary-le-bone Gardens : — 
 
 Until 1735, or 7, the public had free 
 access to these gardens ; but, the company 
 becoming very, respectable, the manager 
 demanded a shilling on admission. The 
 Evening Post, of March 19th, announced, 
 " On Monday next, the 31st of March, 
 the bowling-green will be opened by order 
 of tiie nobility and gentry." Towards 
 the middle of the century these gardens 
 seem to have been on the decline. In 
 1790 they wete nearly built over, and had, 
 some time, been disused. A wooden, or 
 hoarded house, adjoining upon our play- 
 ground, was used, it seems, as a theatre of 
 pugilism, or a show, for wild beasts. 
 
 While Mary-le-lone gardens were flour- 
 ishing, the enchanting music of Handel, 
 and probably of Arne, was often heard 
 from the orchestra here. One evening, as 
 my grandfather and Handel were walking 
 
 together and alone, a new piece was struck 
 up by the band. " Come Mr. Fountayne," 
 said Handel, "let us sit down and listen 
 to this piece — I want to know your opi- 
 nion of it." Down they sat, and after 
 some time the old parson, turning to his 
 companion, said, " It is not worth listen- 
 ing to— It's very poor stuff." " You are 
 right Mr. F.," said Handel, " it is very 
 poor stuff — I thought so myself when I 
 had finished it." The old gentleman, being 
 taken by surprise, was beginning to apolo- 
 gise; but Handel assured him there was 
 no necessity ; that the music was really 
 bad, having been composed hastily, and 
 his time for the production limited ; and 
 that the opinion given was as correct as it 
 was honest. I relate this anecdote by 
 way of admonition to those who imagine 
 that all music which is foreign, or by a 
 great composer, must be " fine;" and 
 because I have often been disgusted by 
 the affectation and folly of people who 
 will applaud a piece of vocal music merely 
 because it is Italian, and for the sake of 
 display, while they can sit unmoved by 
 the enchanting compositions of Calcott, 
 King, Webbe, and many of our old mu- 
 sicians. ' 
 
 Mary-le-bone was a sweet place in the 
 days of my youth, but now, alas ! Jiow 
 changed ! Our only walk, beyond the 
 play ground, was to " Primrose-hill," and 
 " Green Berry-hill," across " Weiling's 
 Farm." I well remember we used to 
 gather sorrel, or goose-grass (greensauce 
 it is here called) ; and we were permitted 
 to buy " alicampane," and " parliament," 
 at the gingerbread stalls by our way side. 
 I cannot, however, look back to the 
 " haunt of my boyish days," with the , 
 same " pleasant reminiscence" as your 
 correspondent (though among relations) 
 A large public school I found a Pande- 
 monium. I thought (as Lord Brougham is 
 reported to have said some years ago of 
 "another place") " that I had got into a 
 den of lions ;" the world had few charms, 
 and my life was a burthen to me. From 
 what I have seen of " Grammar Schools," 
 in the last century, I can imagine what 
 they were in the 1 7th ; and from what I 
 have known of parents and schoolmasters 
 I can well believe the anecdote of Ascham, 
 respecting Lady Jane Grey and her tutor, 
 Aylmer, though few such as Ayliner have 
 been known. 
 
 '' WLat a piece of work is Man !" 
 how curious and wonderful the construc- 
 tion and operations of the human Intel- 
 
503 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 24, .25 
 
 50i 
 
 lect! I can remember Mary-le-bone 
 in 1790 better than the lakes of Cumber- 
 land, &c., which I saw only in 1828 ; 
 my recollection traverses every room in 
 the palace, or manor-house. I can re- 
 member persons and events, then before 
 me, more distinctly, by far, than such as 
 engaged my notice only last year. I re- 
 member the " Jew's Harp," and another 
 house kept by one Karleton (if I spell 
 the name right), perhaps the " Old Queen's 
 Head." X remember the fine gardens and 
 mulberry trees, and seeing Lunardi, or 
 Blanchard, in his balloon high over them. 
 I remember anecdotes of Dr. Arne, and 
 many eminent men ; and especially of 
 those wonderful men, Samuel and Charles 
 Wesley, who, when children, were stars 
 of the first magnitude in the musical 
 world, and lived at or near Marylebone. 
 But time and space fail me, and I have, 
 perhaps, intruded too far upon your 
 columns. 
 
 Yours, very respectfully, 
 
 NoRRISSON SCATCHERD. 
 
 h. m. 
 April 23.. Daybreaks ... 2 32 
 Sun rises • . . . . 4 52 
 — sets .... 7 8 
 Twilight ends . . 9 28 
 Harebells flower abundantly in fields^ 
 shady glades, and woods ; and contrasts 
 finely with the white daisy and the yellow 
 of the crowfoot. 
 
 aptil 24. 
 
 On the 24th of April, 1723, died at 
 Billingbeare, in Windsor Forest, Grey 
 Nevil, Esq., of whom there is a mezzo- 
 tinto portrait by G. White, afler a paint- 
 ing by Dahl in 1720. He was descended 
 from the family of the earl of Abergavenny. 
 His great ancestor. Sir Henry Nevil, knight, 
 a gentleman of the bedchamber to king 
 Edward VI., received a grant from that 
 sovereign of the manor of Wargrave hun- 
 dred, in Berkshire, of which he was de- 
 prived by queen Mary, but which was 
 restored to him by Elizabeth. Mr. Grey 
 Nevil was very popular among the dis- 
 senters, and was elected a member of par- 
 liament for Abingdon in 1705; for Wal- 
 lingford and Wendover in 1 708 ; for Wal- 
 lingford in 1710; for Berwick upon 
 Tweed in 1714 ; and with lord Barrington, 
 as representatives for the latter place, 
 presented to king George I. a memorable 
 
 address of attachment to the Brunswick 
 family, signed by about 600 persons; The 
 influence of his personal character, and 
 great landed property, with his ability, 
 and devotion to the principles of the Re- 
 volution of 1688, rendered him an able 
 supporter of the government. Mr. Noble 
 speaks of his " great singularities," and 
 alleges, as an instance, that on May 5, 
 1723, a sermon was preached at his fu- 
 neral by Mr. Jeremiah Hunt, a dissenting 
 minister, who apologizes in the preface, 
 for not giving a character of the deceased, 
 by quoting this clause from his will. — '< I 
 give to ray Rev. friend, Mr. Jeremiah 
 Hunt, pastor to the congregational church 
 at Pinner's Hall, the sum of £ — to 
 preach a sermon on the last chapter of St. 
 James, provided he makes no mention of 
 my name in the said sermon : I would 
 have it printed." There is no singularity 
 in this, unless it be deemed singular for 
 an upright man to do what may seem to 
 him to be upright in the face of all men. 
 Mr. Nevil was an able, honest, unflinch- 
 ing servant of his constitutents in the 
 house of commons. 
 
 Wages of Parliament Men. 
 By an act of parliament in 1544, temp. 
 Henry VIII., 100 acres of meadow and 
 100 of pasture land- at Maddingley, in 
 Cambridgeshire, are declared to be of the 
 yearly value of £lO, and to be let to hire 
 to John Hinde, Serjeant at law, for that 
 sum yearly, to the use and intent that the 
 profits thereof should be for the fees and 
 wages of the knights in parliament for the 
 county of Cambridge. In consequence 
 of this appropriation, the land was called 
 the shire manor, and is so termed in the 
 act of parliament. 
 
 h. m. 
 April 24. Day breaks ... 2 29 
 Sun rises .... 4 50 
 — sets .... 7 10 
 Twilight ends . . 9 31 
 Moonwort, or Irish honesty, flowers in 
 plenty. 
 Buttercups begin to appear. 
 
 mvil 25. 
 
 St. Mark. 
 The custom of the dumb cake on St. 
 Mark's eve, and the usages upon this fes- 
 tival, are related at sufficient length in the 
 Every-Dai/ Book. 
 
505 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 26. 
 
 500 
 
 Private Ends. 
 
 On Monday the 25th of April, 1825, in 
 a lecture at the Leeds Philosophical Hall, 
 Mr. Michael Sadler, mentioned, as a 
 strange instance of perverted taste, the 
 case of a Tespectable gentleman in the 
 county of Derby, who has a strong pen- 
 chant for the halters in which malefactors 
 have been executed, and who, having 
 made friends with the Jack Ketches of all 
 the neighbouring counties, has collected a 
 large number of nooses which have done 
 cheir duty, and which now hang as lines 
 of beauty, with the names of their former 
 tenants attached to each, round a museum 
 in his house. He is known as " a cut and 
 come again customer " to the finisher of 
 the law in London. 
 
 AprU 25. 
 
 Standard tulip begins to blow. 
 Clarimond tulip still in full flower. 
 Van Thol tulip declining. 
 
 anjtil 26. 
 
 On the 26th of April, 1731, was in- 
 terred, in Bunhill Fields burying-ground, 
 the celebrated Daniel De Fee. The me- 
 moirs of his remarkable life and times 
 have been lately written, with fidelity and 
 ability, by Mr. Walter Wilson, who says 
 " His latter writings all lead to the conclu- 
 sion that he considered himself upon the 
 vergeof another world, and was setting his 
 house in order, fhat he might not be taken 
 by surprise. With a resolute purpose to 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Day breaks . . 
 
 . 2 26 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 .• 4 48 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 . 7 12 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 9 34 
 
 devote his energies, so long as they con- 
 tinued, to the improvement of mankind, 
 we observe a. growing indifference to pass- 
 ing scenes, and an elevation of mind that 
 raised his contemplations to spiritual 
 objects. Those religious impressions 
 which he had imbibed early, and carried 
 with him through life, were sharpened by 
 the asperities of his situation. They be- 
 came his solace under the frowns of the 
 world, aud the stafF of his old age. Dis- 
 ciplined in the school of affliction, he hart 
 been taught submission to the hand that 
 inflicted it ; and aware of the difiicultitii 
 that beset a conscientious adherernt to 
 the path of duty, he made them a motive 
 for vigilance, and frequent self-examina- 
 tion. In one of his latest publications, 
 he says, 'I know not whether of the two 
 is most difficult, in the course of a Chris- 
 tian's life, to live well or to die well.' In 
 a former work, he has the following re- 
 flections suggested by a future state. ' I 
 believe nothing would contribnte more to 
 make us good christians, than to be able 
 to look upon all things, causes, and persons 
 hete, with the same eyes as we do when 
 we are looking into eternity. Death sets 
 all in a clear light ; and when a man is, as 
 it were, in the very boat, pushing off' from 
 the shore of the world, his last views of it 
 being abstracted from interests, hopes, or 
 wishes, and influenced by the near view 
 of the future state, must be clear, unbiassed, 
 and impartial.' With a mind elevated 
 above the grovelling pursuits of the mere 
 worldling, and steadily fixed upon the 
 scenes that were opening to him as he ap- 
 proached the boundaries of time, De Foe 
 could not be unprepared for the change 
 that wfis to separate him from his dearest 
 connexions. The time of his death has 
 been variously stated ; but it took place 
 upon the 24th of April, 1731 when he was 
 about seventy years of age." 
 
 Shall I, who, some few years ago, was less 
 Than worm or mite, or shadow can express. 
 Was nothing, shall I live, when every fire 
 And every star shall languisfa^and expire ? 
 When earth 's no more, shall I survive above, 
 ' And through the radiant files of Angels move ! 
 Or, as before the throne of God I stand, 
 See new worlds rolling from His spacious hand, 
 Where our adventures shall perhaps be taught. 
 As we now tell how Michael sung or fought ? 
 All that has being in full concert join, 
 And celebrate the depths of Love Divike. 
 
 SToutig. 
 
50 r 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. -APRIL 28. 
 
 5oa 
 
 April 26. 
 
 ii. m. 
 Day breaks . . . 2 23 
 Sun rises .... 4 46 
 — sets .... 7 14 
 Twilight ends . . 9 37 
 Chequered daffodil flowers. 
 Cowslip, or pagel, abundantly in flower. 
 This is called cowslip day ; and village 
 girls gather the flowers for garlands. 
 
 blems,'' is emblematical. The fondness 
 of childhood is imaged by the love of 
 simple mielody and pretty cadences — the 
 enamoured passions of youth by the 
 confident and skilful use of the instrii- 
 meats — the state of manhood by the full 
 dippason. 
 
 /. Jt. Prior 
 
 april 27. 
 
 The Orchestra — A Lent Interlude. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 What droppings in there are of musical 
 personages, vocal and instrumental 1 How 
 they succeed each other! the solo and 
 concerto performers waiting their ap- 
 pointed time to be ushered by polite 
 handing and recumbent smiles. How 
 dissimilar in contour, age. and size ! 
 
 To an impatient and refined ear the 
 tuning is dissonant; but to an imaginative 
 taste the high leapings of the smallest 
 strings, treble pipes, tubular squeaking, 
 deep rumbling of the screwed skins — the 
 blast of brass, the low bass notes, are at 
 once so mingled in indescribable motion, 
 as to effect a more unique and nonsyl- 
 lablcd intonation than the best composers 
 have produced, and all with a view to 
 unison — ^the production of harmony by 
 discords. 
 
 ■ The band once set off, the conductor 
 leads, sometimes at a rapid, and sometimes 
 a slow pace ; some hold on, some hold off, 
 some rest against the bars with breathless 
 care, ready to start again, give chase, re- 
 lief, or swell, as the notes prescribe. Feet 
 correspond w^th heads, elbows with fin- 
 gers, eyes with scores, gamuts, and 
 themes. If some brows are knit and 
 features distorted while charming the audi- 
 tory, others are smooth and calm as the 
 unrufiled waters of summer. Their smiles 
 are as the rays of the tones, reflected on 
 admiring and sympathising listeners, 
 whose spirits inhale the sweetness of the 
 melody. 
 
 A peep at an orchestra is irresistibly 
 droll. In spite of subdued feelings«and 
 of a nature kind to all science, the as- 
 semblage of vocalists, with Voices raised 
 to the highest pitch, arms fixed to the 
 firmest purpose, the war of strings, car- 
 nage of rosin, escape of air, crashes of 
 sound, and earnestness of all engaged in 
 the conflict, is to me immeasurably 
 humorous. 
 
 An orchestra, like " Quarle's Em- 
 
 h, m, 
 April 27. Day breaks ; . . 2 20 
 Sun rises .... 4 44 
 — sets . . : . 7 16 
 Twilight ends . . 9 40 
 Bell-shaped squil flowers 
 Gentianella abundantly in flower. 
 Yellow gorse in full flower. 
 
 aptil 28. 
 
 On the 28th of April, 1738, Shak- 
 speare's tragedy of Ju)ius Caesar was 
 performed- at Drury-lane theatre, for the 
 purpose of raising a subscription for a 
 monument to his memory, which was 
 afterwards- erected in Westminster Abbej. 
 
 The first collection of anecdotes ef 
 English composition is " Shakspeare's 
 Jest Book," an elegantreprint, by Samuel 
 Weller Singer, esq., of three tracts, con- 
 taining— 
 
 1. "The Hundred Merry Tales," 1557. 
 It is to this book that Beatrice alludes, 
 wthen she asks Benedict, "Will .you, tell 
 me who told you that I was disdaimjul,.. 
 , and that I had my , good wit out of the 
 hundred merry tales ? " 
 
 ,2. " Tales and Qui<:ke Answeies, very 
 mery, and pleasant to rede." 1$56. ^^.. 
 contains 114 tales. 
 
 3. " Mery tales, Wittie Questions, and 
 Quicke Answeres, very pleasant ;to be. 
 redde. 1567." This collection is alludeji! 
 to by sir John Harrington, in his " Ulysses 
 upon Ajax," where he says, " Lege the 
 boke of Mery I'ales.'' The general design 
 of the book is to expose the friars, who 
 preached against Erasmus as a heretic, 
 including, however, some of no particular 
 bent. 
 
 It is imagined, on the presumed internal 
 evidence of the two following passages from 
 Shakspeare's sonnets, that he was lame. 
 
 Somiet 37. 
 So then I am not lame, poor, nor despisM 
 
 Whilst that this shadow doth such substance 
 give. 
 That I in thy abundance am suffic'd. 
 
 And by a part of all thy glory live. 
 
509 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 30. 
 
 510 
 
 Sonnet 88. 
 Say that thou didst forsake me for some fanlt, 
 
 Aad I will comment upon tliat offence : 
 Speak of my lomenen, and I straight will halt. 
 
 Against thy reasons making no defence. 
 
 April 28. Day breaks '. , 
 Sun rises . . . 
 — sets . . . 
 Twilight ends . . 
 Greening crowfoot appears 
 there. 
 Hedge mustard flowers. 
 Many apple trees in blossom. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 2 17 
 
 4 43 
 , 7 17 
 
 9 43 
 here and 
 
 apirir 29. 
 
 On the 29tli of April, 1652, Mr. Evelyn 
 observes, in his diary, — " Was that cele- 
 brated eclipse of the sun, so much threat- 
 ened by the astrologers, and which had 
 so exceedingly alarmed the whole nation, 
 that hardly any one would work, nor stir 
 out of their houses. So ridiculously were 
 they abused by ignorant and knavish star- 
 gazers." 
 
 A Love Song. 
 
 Pack cloads away, and welcome day. 
 
 With night we banish sorrow ; 
 
 Sweet air blow soft, moant lark aloft, 
 
 To giro my love good morrow. 
 
 Wings from the wind to please her mind, 
 
 Kotes from the la^k I^l borrow : 
 
 Bird, prone thy wing, nightingale sii^, 
 
 To give my love good morrow. 
 
 To give my love good morrow. 
 
 Notes from them all I'll borrow 
 
 Wake from thy nest, robin-red -breast, 
 
 Sji^, birds, in every fnxrow : 
 
 And from each bill let music shrill 
 
 Give my fsur love good morrow. 
 
 Black oird and thrash, in every bosh. 
 
 State, linnet, and cock-sparrow, 
 
 Tou pretty elves, amongst yourselves. 
 
 Sing my fair love good morrow. 
 
 To give my love good morrow. 
 
 Sing, birds, in every furrow. 
 
 Thos. Beywoodj 1638. 
 
 vril 29. Day breaks . . 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 — sets . . . 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 Soft cranebill flowers. 
 Herb Robert flowers. 
 Dalibarda flowers. 
 
 h. m. 
 . 2 13 
 . 4 41 
 . 7 19 
 . 9 47 
 
 ^rtl 30. 
 
 The Meadows in Sfring. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 These verses are in the old style ; rather 
 homely in expression; but I honestly 
 profess to stick more to the simplicity of 
 the old poets than the modems, and to 
 love the philosophical good humor of our 
 old writers more than the sickly melan- 
 choly of the Byronian wits. If my verses 
 be not good, they are good humored, and 
 that is something 
 'Tis a sad sighe . 
 
 To see the year dying ; 
 When autumn's last wind 
 
 Sets the yellow wood sighing ' 
 Sighin^^ oh sighing ! 
 
 When such a time Cometh, 
 
 1 do retire 
 Into an old room. 
 
 Beside a bright fire ; 
 Oh ! pile a bright fire ! 
 
 And there I sit 
 
 Rsading old things 
 Of knights and ladies. 
 
 While the wind sings ; 
 Oh ! drearily sings ! 
 
 I never look out. 
 
 Nor attend to the blast ; 
 For, all to be seen, 
 
 Is the leaves falling fast : 
 Falling, falling ! 
 
 But, dose at the hearth. 
 
 Like a cricket, sit I ; 
 Reading of summer 
 
 And chivalry : 
 Gallant chivalry ! 
 
 Then, with an old friend, 
 
 I talk of our youth ; 
 How 'twas gladsome, bat often 
 
 Foolish, forsooth 
 
 But gladsome, gladsome , 
 
 Or, to get merry. 
 
 We sing an old rhyme 
 That made the wood ring agaia 
 
 In summer time : 
 Sweet summer time ! 
 
 Then take we to smoking. 
 
 Silent and snug : 
 Nought passes between us. 
 
 Save a brown jug ; 
 
 Sometimes ! sometimes \ 
 
 And sometimes a tear 
 
 Will rise in each eye. 
 Seeing the two old friends. 
 
 So merrily ; 
 So merrily I 
 
511 
 
 TUB YEAR BOOK— APRIL 30. 
 
 512 
 
 And ere to Led 
 
 Go we, ^0 we, 
 iJowa by the ashes 
 
 U'e kueel on the knee ; 
 I'laying, praying I 
 Thus then live I, 
 
 Till, breaking the gloom 
 Of winter, the bold sun 
 
 Is with me in the room ! 
 Shining, shining ! 
 Then the clouds part. 
 
 Swallows soaring between : 
 The spring is awake. 
 
 And the meadows are green,— 
 I jump up like mad ; 
 
 Break the old pipe in twain ^ 
 And away to the meadows. 
 
 The meadows again ! 
 
 Epsilon. 
 
 A Faip. and Happy Milkmaid. 
 
 Is a country wench, that is so far from 
 making herself beautiful by art, that one 
 look of hers is able to put all face-physic 
 out of countenance. She knows a fair 
 look is but a dumb orator to commend 
 virtue, therefore minds it not. All hei 
 excellencies stand in her so silently, as if 
 they had stolen upon her without her 
 knowledge. The lining of her apparel, 
 which is herself,, is far better than outsides 
 of tissue ; for, though she be not arrayed 
 in the spoil of the silkworm, she is decked 
 in innocence, a far better wearing. She 
 doth not, with lying long in bed, spoil 
 both her complexion and conditions ; 
 nature hath taught her, too immoderate 
 sleep is rust to the soul ; she rises, there- 
 fore, with chanticlere, her dame's cock, 
 and at night makes the lamb her curfew. 
 In milking a cow, and straining the teats 
 through her fingers, it seems that so sweet 
 a milk-press makes the milk whiter or 
 sweeter ; for never came almond-glove or 
 aromatic ointment on her palm to taint it. 
 The golden ears of corn fall and kiss her 
 feet when she reaps them, as if they wished 
 to be bound and led prisoners by the same 
 hand that felled them. Her breath is her 
 own, which scents all the year long of 
 June, like a new-made hay-cock. She 
 ,makes her hand hard with labor, and her 
 heart soft with pity ; and, when winter 
 evenings fall early, sitting at her merry 
 wheel, she smgs defiance to the wheel of 
 fortune. She doth all things with so 
 sweet a grace, it seems ignorance will not 
 suffer her to do ill, being her mind to do 
 well. She bestows her year's wages at the 
 next fair, and, in choosing her garments 
 
 counts no bravery in the world like de- 
 cency. "The garden a.id bee-hive are all 
 her physic and surgery, and she lives the 
 longer for it. She dares go alone, and 
 unfold sheep in the night, and fears no 
 manner of ill, because she means none ; 
 yet, to say truth, she is never alone, but is 
 still accompanied with old songs, honest 
 thoughts, and prayers, but short ones; yet 
 they have their efficacy in that they are 
 not palled with ensuing idle cogitations. 
 Lastly, her dreams are so chaste, that she 
 dare tell them ; only a Friday's dream is 
 all her superstition ; that she conceals for 
 fear of anger. Thus lives she, and all her 
 care is, she may die in the spring-time, to 
 have store of flowers stuck upon her 
 winding-sheet.* 
 
 If 'men did but know what felicity 
 dwells in the cottage of a virtuous poof , 
 man, — ^how sound he sleeps, how quiet his 
 breast, bow composed his mind, how free 
 from care, how easy his provision, how 
 healthy his morning, how sober his night, 
 how moist his mouth, how joyful his 
 heart, — they, would never admire the 
 noises, the diseases, the throng of passions, 
 and the violence of unnatural appetites, 
 that flu the houses of the luxurious, and ■ 
 the hearts of the ambitious. — Jeremy 
 Taylor. 
 
 Sun Ri'SEi 
 When the sun approaches towards the 
 gates of the morning, he first opens a little 
 eye of heaven, and sends away the spirits 
 of darkness, and gives light to a cock, and 
 calls up the lark to mattins, and bye-and- 
 bye gilds the fringes of a cloud, and peeps 
 over the eastern hills, thrusling out his 
 golden horns like those which decked the 
 brows of Moses, when he was forced to 
 wear a veil, because himself had seen the . 
 face of God ; and still, while a man tells 
 the story, the sun gets up higher, till he 
 shows a full fair light, and a face, and then 
 he shines one whole day, under a cloud 
 often, and sometimes weeping great and 
 little showers, and sets quickly ; so is a 
 man's reason and his life. — Jeremy Taylor. 
 
 April 30. Day breaks . . 
 Sun rises . . . 
 — sets . ... 
 Twilight ends 
 Tooshwort flowers. 
 Peerless primrose -flowers. 
 
 * Sir T. Overbury> 
 
 h. m. 
 ? 10 
 4 39 
 7 21 
 6 SO 
 
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY. 
 
 St4 
 
 MAY. 
 
 Vol. X^t7 
 
 How lovely now are lanes and balks, 
 For lovers in their Sunday-walks ! 
 The daisy and the butter-cup — 
 For which the laughing children stoop 
 A hundred times thioughout the day, 
 In their rude romping Summer play — 
 So thickly now the pasture crowd. 
 In a gold and silver sheeted cloud. 
 As if the drops of April showers 
 Had woo'd the sun, and changed to flowers. 
 
 Clare's Shepherds' Calendar. 
 S 
 
515 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY, 
 
 516 
 
 The following delightful verses are ren- 
 dered very closely into our language by 
 Mr. Thomas Roscoe, from the old German 
 of earl Conrad of Kirchberg, a minne- 
 singer of the twelfth century — 
 
 Song. 
 May, BTveet May, again is come. 
 May that frees the land from gloom ; 
 Childreu, children, up, and see 
 All her stores of jollity ! 
 On the laughing hedgerow's side 
 She hath spread her treasures wide ; 
 She is in the greenwood shade. 
 Where the nightingale hath made 
 Every branch and every tree 
 Hing with her sweet melody ; 
 Hill and dale are May's own treasures ; 
 Youths rejoice ! In sportive measures 
 
 Sing ye, join the chorus gay ! 
 
 Hail this merry, merry May ! 
 
 Jp then, children 1 we will go 
 Where Uie blooming roses grow ; 
 In a joyful company 
 We the bursting flowers will see : 
 Up, your festal dress prepare ! 
 Where gay hearts are meeting, there 
 May hath pleasures most inviting. 
 Heart and sight and ear delighting ; 
 Listen to the birds' sweet song. 
 Hark ! how soft it floats along : 
 Courtly dames ! our pleasures sTiare ; 
 Never saw I May so fair : 
 -Therefore dancing will we go ; 
 Youths rejoice, the flow'rets blow ! 
 
 Sing ye ! join the chorus gay ! 
 
 Hail this merry, merry May ! 
 
 In May .eveiy field with hedgerows and 
 bushes is a birdmeadow. JDuring the 
 middle and latter part of the vernal sea- 
 son the business of nest-irialiing takes 
 place, and the first broods are hatched, 
 fledged, and fly before the close of the 
 period, during which lime the male birds 
 are in full song. Each bird has a note or 
 a modulation of notes peculiar to him- 
 self, yet many decidedly imitate the notes 
 of others. The blackcap, the thrush, and 
 many other birds mock the nightingale ; 
 and hence, in the north and west of Eng- 
 land, where nightingales . do not abound, 
 the note of these mocking songsters is 
 less musical and less varied. To note the 
 average days on Which birds arrive, by 
 listening to their notes as well as by seeing 
 them, is a very pleasant amusement during 
 the bright fine weather of a vernal morn- 
 ing. The cooing of the ringdove, the 
 wild pigeon, and the turtle, is character- 
 istic of the spring ; but the great mark of 
 the vernal season is the well known song 
 
 of the cuckoo. His voice is heard 
 through all May ; he becomes hoarse, 
 and sings seldomer in the solstitial sea- 
 son ; before the commencement of the 
 aestival he ceases his note, and emigrates. 
 The cuckoo in general builds no nest, bu- 
 deposits her solitary egg in the nest of 
 another bird, generally the hedge spart 
 row's, though she occasionally resorts to 
 that of the water wagtail, titlark, &c., by 
 whom the egg is hatched. Early in the 
 season, the cuckco begins with the interval 
 of a minor third ; the bird then proceeds 
 to a major third, next to a fourth, then a 
 fifth, after which his voice breaks out with- 
 out attaining a minor sixth. An old Nor- 
 folk proverb says, 
 
 In April the cuckoo shows his hill. 
 In May he sing, night and day. 
 In June he changes his tune. 
 In July away he fly. 
 In August away he must. 
 
 The insects of the vernal season are nu 
 merous, and there are certain fine days in 
 which thousands of species make their 
 first appearance together.- The early sul-. 
 phur butterfly, which is the first in the 
 last season, is now seen every fine day, 
 and is soon followed by the tortoiseshell, 
 the peacock, and lastly; by the white cab- 
 bage butterflies. 
 
 During the vernal seaspn -the march of 
 vegetation,the development of leaves on the 
 trees and the flowering ofplants, is rapid. 
 From the very commencement to the endof 
 the period, some new flower is added 
 every day. Early in, May the creeping 
 crowfoot in the uplands, and the butter- 
 cups in the low meadows, clothe the grass 
 with a brilliant golden yellow, while in 
 other places on shady slopes, and on 
 ground over which the trees may have 
 been newly felled, the field hyacinth 
 covers the whole surface with its rich blue 
 flowers ; the meadow lychnis succeeds, 
 until all are cut down in the great mowing 
 of meadow hay. During this period the 
 banks are still covered with primroses and 
 violets, and here and there witb pilewort ; 
 in the hedges the black thorn first, and after- 
 wards the white thorn, blossom. In the oi- 
 chard a succession of blossoms on the plijai, 
 the cherry, the pear, and the apple trees 
 impart unspeakable beauty to the scene. 
 The husbandman looks with a prospective 
 pleasure at these promises of plenty in the 
 orchard, qnd daily tends and watches the 
 " setting" of the fruit. 
 
 The gardens teem and glow with va- 
 rieties of the richest flowers The bright 
 
517 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY. 
 
 518 
 
 ultramarine blue of the Cynoglossum Om- 
 phalodes, and of the Veronica Chamaedrys, 
 which covers every bank in May, and the 
 blue harebell, is as common as the yellow 
 crowsfoot. Early in the month the standard 
 tulips are in full blow and exhibiting 
 every stripe, tint, and variety of color. 
 Towards the middle of the month the rich 
 crimson of the piony and the bright lig >t 
 red of the monkey poppy come into blow 
 at nearly the same time, yet there are 
 individual plants of the monkey poppy 
 which always blow a month later than 
 the rest, beginning early in June, and con- 
 tinuing &r into the solstitial season. The 
 young plants propagated from these do 
 the same, and may be called a permanent 
 variety, belonging to the solstitial instead 
 of the vernal Flora, and vies with the com- 
 mon garden poppy, a fine ornament of the 
 summer solstice. The yellow poppy 
 now flowers fully, and continues to tlow 
 sparingly all the summer. 
 
 £'en roads, where danger hourly comes^ 
 Arc not without its purple bloonis. 
 Whose leaves, with tbieat'ning thistles round 
 Thick set, that have no strength to wound, 
 Shrink into childhood's eager hold 
 Like hair ; aud, with its eye of gold 
 And scarlet-starry points of flowers. 
 Pimpernel, dreading nights and showers. 
 Oft called " the Shepherd's Weather-glass," 
 That sleeps till suns have dried the grass. 
 Then wakes, and spreads its creeping bloom 
 Till clouds with threatening shadows come — 
 Then close it shuts to sleep again : 
 Which weeders see, and talk of rain ; 
 And boys, that mark them shut so soon. 
 Call " John that goes to bed at noon : " 
 And fumitory too — a name 
 That superstition holds to fame — 
 Whose red and purple mottled flowers 
 Are cropped by maids in weeding hours. 
 To boil in' water, milk, and whey. 
 For washes on a holiday. 
 To make their beauty fair and sleek. 
 And scare the tan from summer's cheek ; 
 And simple small '' Forget-me-not," 
 Eyed with a pip's -head yellow spot 
 1' the middle of its tender blue. 
 That gains from poets notice due s — 
 These flowers, that toil by crowds destroys 
 Robbing thcin of their lowly joys. 
 Had met the May with hopes as sweet 
 As those her suns in gardens meet ; 
 And oft the dame will feel inclined, 
 As childhood's memory comes to mind. 
 To turn her hook away, and spare 
 The blooms it loved to gather there ! 
 
 Clare. 
 
 * Dr. T. Forster, Ency. of Kat. Phenomena, 
 
 Towards the ■close of the vernal season 
 the weather gets warmer, and is generally 
 fine and dry, or else refreshed by showers ; 
 it is, however, seldom hotter than what 
 may be called temperate, and the nights, 
 when the wind is northerly, are still cold'. 
 The blossoms of the fruit trees gradually 
 go off, the grass in the meadows gets high, 
 and partially obscures the yellow ranun- 
 culi which decorated them in spring, and 
 by the first week in June the setting in of 
 the solstitial season is manifest by the 
 blowing of a new set of plants and the ab- 
 sence of dark night.* 
 
 Alimentary Calendar. 
 
 Turtle, the great West Indian luxury, 
 generally arrives about the latter end of 
 May, or the beginning of June, though 
 from the uncertainties of a sea voyage no 
 exact period for its first appearance can be 
 fixed. In 1814 it was so unusually late 
 that at the magnificent banquet given in 
 Guildhall to the Emperor of Russia and 
 to the King of Prussia, on the 18th of 
 June, there was no turtle to be had. A. 
 supply was announced at Portsmouth on 
 the very day, but as this civic dignitary, 
 like other great personages, requires much 
 time to diess, he could not possibly be 
 present on the occasion. Great was the 
 disappointment of the corporation. An 
 alderman might have apostrophised with 
 as much fervor as Macbeth did on the, 
 absence of Banquo at supper, and with 
 more sincerity- 
 Here had we now our table's honor roof'd. 
 Were the grac'd person of our turtle present. 
 
 Consolation, however, was probably de- 
 rived from the satisfactory assurance that 
 the arrival of the long-expected guest, 
 after he had braved the perils of the sea, 
 would afford another festival, for the ex- 
 press purpose of welcoming, and behold- 
 ing him in all his glory. 
 
 The weight of a turtle vanes from 
 thirty to 500 or 600 pounds, and the 
 price from 2s. 6d. to 5s. per lb. The 
 cooking is generally performed by a pro- 
 fessed " artist," whose fee is from one to 
 two guineas. Epicures of note have been 
 known to prefer it cut into steaks and 
 broiled, to be eaten with melted butter, 
 Cayenne pepper, and the juice of a Seville 
 orange, and say that the flesh thus simply 
 dressed retains more of its true flavor 
 than when made into callipash and cal- 
 liper. 
 
 S2 ■ . 
 
519 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY. 
 
 520 
 
 Calf's head, which is susceptible' of 
 as many culinary operations as the head 
 of an ingenious cook can devise, forms the 
 basis of a soup called mock-turtle, and, in 
 cases of emergency, may serve as an aug- 
 mentative ingredient to real turtle soup. 
 
 Buck venison is now introduced at po- 
 lite tables, and continues in season until 
 the end of September. The price of a 
 prime haunch is from three to five guineas. 
 The next best joint is the neck, which is 
 proportionably lower in value. The 
 shoulders, breast, and scrags, generally 
 fetch from ten to fourteen pence a pound. 
 Forest venison is the smallest and finest 
 flavored. In the choice of this rich 
 meat the principal criterion is the fat, 
 which in a young buck will be thick, 
 bright, and clear, the cleft smooth and 
 close : a wide tough cleft denotes age. 
 
 Salmon, sturgeon, lobsters, turbot, had- 
 dock, eels, and whitings, as well as crabs, 
 prawns, and shrimps, continue generally 
 through the summer season. After the 
 close of this month, the John dory and 
 the gurnet are no longer admissible. In 
 addition to eels, carp, tench, and perch, 
 the prince of fresh-water fish, the trout, 
 is produced, and forms a very favorite 
 repast during the remainder of the sum- 
 
 Seasonable, perhaps — 
 An old Hebrew says, " Every man of un- 
 derstanding knoweth wisdom," and " they 
 that were of understanding in Sayings be- 
 came also wise themselves, and poured 
 forth exquisit^ parables." 
 
 Among the sayings and counsels of 
 this ancient writer, he advises to " refrain 
 thyself from thine appetites" and he helps 
 a man who is "given to appetite," with a 
 reason or two — " If thou givest thy soul 
 the desires that please her, she will make 
 thee a laughing-stock to thine enemies 
 that malign thee. — Take not pleasure in 
 much good cheer, neither be tied to the 
 expense thereof. — Be not made a beg- 
 gar by banqueting upon borrowing, when 
 thou hast nothing in thy parse ; for thou 
 shalt lie in wait for thine own life, and be 
 talked on." 
 
 There is much, and bettermatlBT, to the 
 plirpose, in the Book with which the pre- 
 ceding writer's work is occasionally bound. 
 
 Veoetable Gaeden Directory. 
 
 Sow 
 Indian corn, the dwarf variety, as early 
 in the month as nossible ; dwarf kidney 
 
 beans, for a full crop, about the first week, 
 and again towards the end of the month. 
 
 Scarlet and white runners, either in 
 drill or seed beds; in the second week. 
 
 Peas and beans for succession crops, as 
 the earlier sowings appear above ground. 
 
 Carrots, for drawing young; once or 
 twice. 
 
 Brocoli, purple caps, for autumnal 
 supply ; in the third or fourth week. 
 
 Portsmouth, white and purple, for the 
 following spring ; in the first week. 
 
 Borecole, Brussel's sprouts, and any 
 of the brassica tribe, for succession crops; 
 during the month 
 
 Turnip, the Dutch, and Sv^edish ; once 
 or twice. 
 
 Cucumbers, either for picklers or for 
 late supply ; about the second week. 
 
 Onions, for drawing while young, or 
 for bulbs, to plant in the spring; in the 
 third week. 
 
 Lettuce, the coss or capuchin, for sal- 
 lads ; at any time. 
 
 Scorzonera, salsafy, skirret; in the first 
 (ir second week, 
 
 Plant 
 
 Potatoes, the winter main crops; 
 throughout the month. 
 
 Transplant 
 
 Cabbages from the seed beds; and 
 cauliflowers. 
 
 Celery into nursery rows, or some of 
 the strongest plants into the final trenches, 
 for early autumnal use; in the fourth 
 week. 
 
 Attend to regularity, order, and neat- 
 ness. 
 
 Hipitaph on a Gardener. 
 
 Beneath this sod an honest gardener's laid. 
 Who long was thought the tvlip of bis trade ; 
 A life of many years to him was known, 
 But now he's wither'd like a rose o'erblown. 
 Like a transplanted flower be this his doom,. 
 Fading in this world, in the next to bloom. 
 
 In a garden there is always something 
 required to be done, which, in the doing, 
 tendeth to compose the mind, if it be tur- 
 moiled ; or affordeth pastime, if it be weary 
 of calmness. Therefore it is tliat the bu- 
 siness of a garden is a quiet and pleasant 
 recreation to all who are over-fatigued 
 with thought, or disturbed with the cares 
 of the world ; and hence the wisest actors 
 in human aflairs, and the best benefactors 
 to mankind, have in the ending of life 
 sought gardening as a solace 
 
531 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 saa 
 
 THE CALL OF THE MAY. 
 Arise, ye true lovers, arise ! Of your love 
 Think only, and let the glad spirits be gay : 
 This bright month of May, from your bosoms remove 
 Every care-bringing thought, nor permit it to stay. 
 Be joyful, be faithful : never allowing 
 One bitter remembrance the joys to outweigh 
 Of those sweet recollections the season's bestowing ; 
 'Tis the mandate of love, and the claim of the May. 
 Then look to yourselves, those glad pleasures enjoying 
 In the hearts of the good that may blamelessly stay ; 
 To smile, and to sport, and to sing, none denying, 
 While grief takes his flight from your spirits to-day; 
 Array'd in the green festive robe of the season, 
 At the feast quick and ready the fair to obey. 
 Each true to his vows, *iever dreaming of treason ; 
 'Tis the mandate of love, and the call of the May. 
 
 Christine de Pisan. 
 
 Mav 1- 
 
 May Day. 
 
 In Shakspeare's play of King Henry VIII. 
 there is a grand procession to the christen- 
 ing of the princess Elizabeth. The ap 
 proach of the pageant attracts into the 
 palace yard a multitude, who are desirous 
 of catching a glimpse of the spectacle : 
 their noise and tumult distract the porter 
 at the palace gate — " an army cannot rule 
 'em " — ^he scolds and rates in vain ; and 
 his man says to him 
 
 Pray, sir, be patient ; 'tis as much impossible 
 (Unless we sweep them from the door with 
 
 camions) 
 To scatter em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep 
 On May day monyng ; which will never be. 
 
 It were needless to require evidence be- 
 yond this record, by our great observer of 
 men and manners, that our ancestors 
 
 rose up early, to observe 
 
 The rite of May, 
 There is " more matter for a May-morn- 
 ing," and the ailerpart of a good " May- 
 day," in our old chroniclers and best 
 poets, than could be compressed into 
 such a volume as this. Great were the 
 assemblages and outgoings from the city, 
 
 on a JMay-day morning to fetch in May. 
 
 More than 130 columns, and fourteen 
 engravings, describe and illustrate this 
 festival in the Eeety-Day Book and Table 
 Book, and yet there still remains some 
 seasonable information concerning May- 
 day merriments and usages. 
 
 Olaus Magnus, who wrote in the six- 
 teenth century, relates that the southern 
 
 Swedes and Goths, that are very far from 
 he Pole, have a custom, that on the first 
 day of May, when the sun is in Taurus, 
 there should be two horse troops ap- 
 pointed of young and lusty men, as if 
 they were to fight some hard conflict. Or.e 
 of these is led on by a captain, chosen by 
 lot, who has the name and habit of win- 
 ter. He is clothed with divers skins, and 
 armed with fire-forks; and casting about 
 snow-balls and pieces of ice, that he may 
 prolong the cold, he rides up and down 
 in triumph, and he shows and makes 
 himself the harder, the more the icicles 
 seem to hang from their stoves. The chief- 
 tain of the other troop is for summer, and 
 is called captain Florio, and is clothed 
 with green boughs and leaves, and sum- 
 mer garments that are not very strong. 
 Both these ride from the fields into the 
 city, from divers places, one after another, 
 and with their fire-spears they fight, and 
 make a public show, that summer hath 
 conquered winter. 
 
 Both sides striving to get the victory, 
 that side more forcibly assaults the other 
 which on that day seems to borrow more 
 force from the air, whether temperate or 
 sharp. If the winter yet breathes frost, 
 they lay aside their spears, and, riding up 
 and down, cast about upon the spectators 
 ashes mingled with live sparks of fire taken 
 from the graves, or from the altar ; and 
 they who in the same dress and habit are 
 auxiliary troops cast fire-balls from their 
 horses. Summer, with his band of horse, 
 shows openly his boughs of birch, or tiel- 
 tree, which are made green long before by 
 art, as by the heat of" their stoves anqt 
 watering them, and privately brought in t^ 
 
523 
 
 THE YEAH liOOK. -MAY 1. 
 
 524 
 
 if they newly came from the wood. But, 
 because Nature is thus defrauded, those 
 that fight for winter press on the more, 
 that the victory may not be got by fraud ; 
 yet the sentence is given for summer by 
 the favorable judgment of the people, who 
 are unwilling to endure the sharp rigor of 
 winter any longer ; and so summer gets the 
 victory with the general applause of them 
 all, and he makes agallant feast forhis com- 
 pany, and confirms it by drinking cups, 
 which he could scarcely win with spears. 
 This sport is spoken of by Olaiis Mag- 
 nus as " the custom of driving away the 
 winter, and receiving of summer." 
 
 Our neighbours of France were great 
 observers of May-day, In the journal of 
 Charles VI., who commenced his reign in 
 1380, it is recorded that the " May" plant- 
 ed annually at the gate of the palace was 
 cut from the Bois de Boulogne, a wood 
 in which the sovereigns of the first race, 
 when they dwelt in the palace of Clichy, 
 were accustomed to sport, and in which 
 the troops of Charles X. bivouacked the 
 night before his departure into exile from 
 the palace of St. Cloud. 
 
 In 1449 the fraternity of master gold- 
 smiths of Paris agreed, as an act of devo- 
 tion, to present, annually, in the church 
 of Notre Dame, to the Virgin, on the first 
 of May, at midnight, a " May," or May- 
 bough, before the principal door of the 
 church of Notre Dame. They elected a 
 prince for one year only, who was to settle 
 the expenses of the " May." 
 
 The " May" was placed on a pillar, or 
 shrine, in the form of a tabernacle, in the 
 several faces of which were small niches, 
 ioceupied by different figures of silk, gold, 
 and silver, representing certain histories, 
 and below them were explanatory inscrip- 
 tions in French verse. The " May" 
 remained at the great door from midnight 
 till after vespers the next day, when it 
 was transported, together with the pillar, 
 before the image of the Virgin, near the 
 choir, and the old " May" of the preced- 
 ing year was removed into the chapel of- 
 St. Anne, to be kept there also a year. 
 This ceremony was regularly observed till 
 1607, when the goldsmiths presented to 
 the church atriangular tabernacle of wood, 
 very curiously wrought, in which three 
 paintings were enclosed ; these paintings 
 were presented and changed annually. 
 
 instead of the " May," and the old ones 
 hung up in the chapel of St. Anne.* 
 
 In the Everi/ Day Book there is Stow's 
 ample account of " 111 May Day," or the 
 rising of the London 'prentices into fatal 
 fray, on May-day, 1517, which occasioned 
 the setting up of that great May-pole, or 
 " shaft," from which the adjoining parish 
 and church of St. Andrew were called St. 
 Andrew Undershaft. It appears from the 
 following ballad, that, to prevent a similar 
 occurrence by reason of the great crowds 
 on the festival, the old armed watch of 
 the city was thenceforth set up on May- - 
 eve. On account of the former popularity 
 of this almost forgotten " garland," it is 
 here inserted verbatim. 
 
 Thb Story op III May Day, in the reign 
 of king Henry the Eighth, and why it was 
 socalled; andhow Queen "Katu^kise begged 
 the lives of two thousand London Appren- 
 tices. — To the Tune of Essex Good Night, 
 
 Peruse the stories of this land. 
 
 And with advis£ment mark the same, 
 And you shall justly understand 
 
 How 111 May l)ay first got the name. 
 For when king Henry th' eighth did reign 
 
 And rul'd our famous kingdom here. 
 His royal queen he had from S|)ain, 
 
 With v/hom he liv'd full many a year. 
 
 Queen Katherinc nam'd, as stories tell. 
 
 Some time his elder brother's wife ; 
 By which unlawful marriage fell 
 
 An endless trouble during life : 
 But such kind love he still conceiv d 
 
 Of his fair queen, and of her friends. 
 Which being by Spain and France perceiv'd. 
 
 Their journeys fast for England bends. 
 
 And with good leave were suffered 
 
 W^ithin our kingdom here to stay. 
 Which multitude made victuals dear, 
 
 And all things else from day to day ; 
 For strangers then did so increase, 
 
 By reason of king Henry's queen. 
 And privileg'd in many a place 
 
 To dwell, as was in London seen. 
 Poor tradesmen had small dealing then, 
 
 And who but strangers bore the bell ? 
 Which was a grief to English men. 
 
 To see them here in London dwell ; 
 Wherefore (God-wot) upon May-eve, 
 
 The 'prentices a-maying went. 
 Who made the magistrates believe. 
 
 At all to have no other intent : 
 But such a May-game it was known. 
 
 As like in London never were ; 
 For by the same full many a one 
 
 With loss of life did pay full dear : 
 
 History of Paiis, i. 677. 
 
 n-^'l 
 
526 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 1 
 
 526 
 
 For thousands came with Bilboe blade. 
 As with aQ army they could meet. 
 
 And such a bloody slaughter made 
 Oi foreign strangers in the street. 
 
 That all the channels ran with blood. 
 
 In every street where they remained j 
 Yea, every one in danger stood. 
 
 That any of their part maintained ; 
 The rich, the poor, the old, the young. 
 
 Beyond the seas though born and bred. 
 By 'prentices they suffered ^vrong. 
 
 When armed tlius they gather'd head. 
 
 Such multitudes together went. 
 
 No warlike troops could them withstand. 
 Nor could by policy prevent. 
 
 What thCy by force thus took in hand : 
 Till, at the last, king Henry's power 
 
 This multitude encompassed round. 
 Where, with the strength of London's tower. 
 
 They were by force suppress'd and bound. 
 
 And hundreds hang'd by martial law. 
 
 On sign-posts at their masters' doors. 
 By whidh the rest were kept in awe. 
 
 And frighted from such loud uproars ; 
 And others which the fact repented 
 
 (Two thousand 'prentices at least) 
 Were all unto the king presented. 
 
 As mayor and magistrates thought best. 
 
 With two and two together tied. 
 
 Through Temple-bar and Strand they go. 
 To Westminster, there to be tried. 
 
 With ropes about their necks also : 
 But such a cry in every street, 
 
 rill then was never heard or known. 
 By mothers for their children sweet. 
 
 Unhappily thus overthrown ; 
 
 Whose bitter moans and sad laments, 
 
 Possess'd the court with trembling fear , 
 Whereat the queen herself relents, 
 
 Though it concem'd her country dear: 
 What if (qnoth she) by Spanish blood, 
 
 Have-London's stately streets been wet. 
 Yet will 1 seek this country's good. 
 
 And pardon for these young men get ; 
 
 Or else the world will speak of me. 
 
 And say queen Eatherine was unkind. 
 And judge me still the cause to be, 
 
 These young men did these fortunes find ; 
 And so, disrob'd from rich attires. 
 
 With hair hang'd down, she sadly hies. 
 And of her gracious lord requires 
 
 A boon, which hardly he denies. 
 
 The lives (qnoth she) of all the bloomr 
 
 Yet budding green, these youths 1 crave ; 
 let them not have timeless tombs. 
 
 For nature longer limits gave : 
 In saying so, the pearled tears 
 
 Fell trickling from her princely eyes ; 
 Whereat his gentle queen he cheers. 
 
 And says, stand up, sweet lady, rise ; 
 
 The lives of tlicm T freely give. 
 
 No means Ibis kindness shall' debar^ 
 Thou hast thy boon, and they may livo 
 
 To serve me in my Bullcn war : 
 No sooner was this pardon given. 
 
 But peals of joy rung through the hall. 
 As though it thundered down from heaven. 
 
 The queen's ren9wn amongst them all. 
 For which (kind queen) with joyful heart. 
 
 She gave to them both thanks and praise. 
 And 80 from them did gently part. 
 
 And lived beloved all her days : 
 And when king Henry stood in need 
 
 Of trusty soldiers at command. 
 These 'prentices prov'd men indeed, 
 
 4nd fear'd no force of warlike band. 
 For, at the siege of Tours, in France, 
 
 They show'd themselves brave Englishmen ; 
 At Bullen, too, they did advance 
 
 Saint George's ancient standard then ; 
 Let Tourine, Tournay, and those towns 
 
 That good lyng Henry nobly won. 
 Tell London's 'prentices' renowns. 
 
 And of their deeds by them there done. 
 
 For 111 May-day, and 111 May-games, 
 
 Perform'd in young and tender days. 
 Can be no hindrance to their fames. 
 
 Or stains of manhood any ways : 
 But now it is ordain'd by law. 
 
 We see on May-day's eve, at night. 
 To keep unruly youths in awe. 
 
 By London's watch, in armour bright 
 
 Still to prevent the like misdeed. 
 
 Which once through headstrong young men 
 came : 
 And that's the cause that I do reaa. 
 
 May-day doth get so ill a name. 
 
 The old May-pole was painted with 
 varioiis colors. On the next page is an 
 engraving of one as it appears in Mr. 
 Tollett's painted glass window, at Betley 
 in Staffordshire, " which exhibits, in all 
 probability, the most curious as well as 
 the oldest representation of an English 
 May-game and morris dance that is any 
 where to be found."* Concerning this 
 dance and the window further particulars 
 will be stated hereafter. Upon Mr. Tol- 
 lett's May-pole are displayed St George's 
 red cross, or the banner of England, and 
 a white pention, or streamer, emblazoned 
 with a red cross, terminating like the 
 blade of a swdrd, but the delineation 
 thereof is much faded.-t 
 
 * Mr. Donee's Illustrations of Shakspeare, 
 ii. 445. 
 
 t Malono's Shakspeare, 1821 xvi. 42S. 
 
*3T 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 52a 
 
 MAY DAY. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Up like a princess starts the merry morning, 
 
 In draperies of many-colored cloud ; 
 And sky-larks, minstrels of the early dawning, 
 
 Pipe forth their hearty welcomes long and loud ; 
 The enamoured god of day is out a-maying, 
 
 And every flower his laughing eye beguiles — 
 And with the milkmaids in the fields a-playing 
 
 He courts and wins them with eflnlgent smiles — 
 For May's divinity of joy begun 
 Adds strength and lustre to the gladdening sun, 
 
 And all of life beneath its glory straying 
 Is by May's beauty into worship won. 
 Till golden eve ennobles all the west 
 And day goes blushing like a bride to rest. 
 
 JOHN CLARE. 
 
 . Among the additions to "The Countess 
 of Pembroke's Arcadia, written by sir Phi- 
 lip Sidney, knight," we have an account of 
 a rural mask, or May-game, performed at 
 
 Wanstead, in honor of queen Elizabeth, 
 which begins by stating that « Her most ex- 
 cellent Majestie walking in Wanstead Gar- 
 den, as she passed down into the grove there 
 
529 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 530 
 
 ' came suddenly, among the train, one ap- 
 iparelled like an honest man's wife of the 
 ;countrie ; where crying out for justice, 
 and desiring all the lords and gentlemen 
 to speak a good word for her, shee was 
 brought to the presence of her Majestie, 
 to whom upon her knees shee offered a 
 supplication, and used this speech :" — 
 
 " Most fair ladie ! for as for other your 
 titles of state statelier persons shall give 
 you, and thus much mine own eies are wit- 
 nesses of, take here the complaint of mee 
 poor wretch, as deeply plunged in miserie 
 as I wish to you the highest point of hap- 
 piness. 
 
 " Onely one daughter I have, in whom-I 
 had placed all the hopes of my good hap, 
 so well had shee with her good parts re- 
 compensed my pain of bearing her, and 
 care of bringing her up : but now, alas I 
 that shee is com to the lime I should reap 
 my full comfort of her. so is shee troubled, 
 with that notable matter which we in the 
 countrie call matrimonie, as I cannot 
 chuse but fear the loss of her wits, at 
 least of her honestie. Other women think 
 they may bee unhappily combred with one 
 master husband; my poor daughter is 
 oppressed with two, both loving her, both 
 equally liked of her, both striving to 
 deserve her. But now lastly (as this 
 jealousie forsooth is a vile matter) each 
 have brought their partakers with them, 
 and are at this present, without your pre- 
 sence redress it, in some bloodie contro- 
 versie ; now sweet Ladie help, your own 
 way guides you to the place where they 
 encomber her. I dare stay here no longer, 
 for our men say in the countrie, the sight 
 of you is infectious." 
 
 The speech, &c., was delivered by a 
 female called " the Suitor," who finally 
 presented the queen with a written sup- 
 plication, in verse, and departed. 
 
 " Herewith' the woman-suitor being gon, 
 there was heard in the wood a confused 
 noise, and forthwith there came out six 
 shepherds, with as many forresters, haling 
 atid pulling to whether side they should 
 draw the Ladie of May, who seemed to 
 incline neither to the one nor the other 
 side. Among them was master Rombus a 
 schoolmaster of a village thereby, who, 
 being fully persuaded of his own learned 
 wisdom, came thither with his authoritie to 
 part their fray ; where for answer hee re- 
 ceived many unlearned blows. But the 
 Queen coming to the place where she was 
 seen of them, though they knew not her 
 estate, yet something there was which made 
 
 them startle aside and gaze upon her : till 
 old father Lalus stepped forth (one of the 
 substantiallest shepherd;) and, making a 
 leg or two, said these few words: — 
 
 " May it pleas your dignitie to give a lit- 
 tle superfluous intelligence to that which, 
 with the opening of my mouth, my tongue 
 and teeth shall deliver unto you. So it is, 
 right worshipful audience, . that a certain 
 shee creature, which wee shepherds nail a 
 woman, of a minsical countenance, but 
 (by my white lamb) not three-quarters so 
 beauteous as yourself, hath [ disannulled 
 the brain-pain of two of our featioust 
 young men. And will you wot how ? By 
 my mother Kit's soul, with a certain fraii- 
 sical ma-ladie they call love; when I was 
 a ypung man they called it flat follie. 
 But here is a substantial .schoolmaster can 
 better disnounce the whole foundation of 
 the matter, although in sooth, for all his 
 loquence, our young men were nothing 
 dutious to his clarkship ; com on, com on 
 master schoolmaster, bee not so bashless ; 
 we say that the fairest are ever the gentlest: 
 tell the whole case, for you can much 
 better vent the points of it than I." 
 
 Then came forward master Rombus, and 
 in the manner of " Lingo," in the " Agree 
 able surprise" (a character undoubtedly 
 derived from this Rombus), he made "a 
 learned oration" in the following words : 
 " Now the thunderthumping Jove trans- 
 fund his dotes into your excellent formo- 
 sitie, which have with your resplendant 
 beams thus segregated the enmitie of these 
 rural animals : T am Potentissma Vominii, 
 a schoolmaster, that is to say, a pedagogue, 
 one not a little versed in the disciplinating 
 of the Juvenal firie, wherein (to my laud I 
 say it) 1 use such geometrical proportion 
 as neither v/anted mansuetude nor cor- 
 rection ; for so it is described, Pareare 
 Subjectos et debeltire Superbos. Yet hath 
 not the pulcritude of my virtues protected 
 mee from the contaminating.hands of these 
 plebeians ; for coming, solummodo, to have 
 parted their sanguinolent fray, they yielded 
 mee no more reverence than if Ihad been 
 som Pecorius Asinus. I, even I, that am, 
 who am I ? JJixi, verbus sapiento satum 
 est. But what said that Trojan JEneas, 
 when hee sojourned in the surging sulks 
 of the sandiferous seas, Htcc olira mcmo- 
 nasse juvebit. Well, Well, ad propositos 
 revertebo ; the puritie of the veritie is, that 
 a certain Fulcra puellu profeclo, elected 
 and constituted by the integrated determi- 
 nation of all this topographical region, as 
 the sovereign ladie of this dame Maie's 
 
531 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 532 
 
 month, haih oeen quodammodo hunted, as 
 you would say, pursued by two, a brace, a 
 couple, a cast of youug men, to whom the. 
 craftie qoward Cupid had inqmm delivered 
 his dire-dolorous dart." 
 
 Here the " May-Ladie" interrupted his 
 speech, at which master Rombus in a great 
 chafe, cried out — "0 Tempori, O Moribus ! 
 in profession a childe, in dignitie a woman, 
 in years a ladie, in cmteris a maid, sho'uld 
 thus turpifie the reputation of my doctrine, 
 with the superscription of a fool, Tem- 
 pori, O Moribus .'" 
 
 Then the May-Lady said again, " Leave 
 off good latine fool, and let mee satisfie 
 the long desire I have had to feed mine 
 eies with the onely sight this age hath 
 granted to the world." 
 
 The poor schoolmaster went his way 
 back, and the May-Lady kneeling down, 
 thus concluded a speech to her Majesty : 
 " Indeed so it is, that I am a fair wench, 
 or els I am deceived, and therefore by the 
 consent of all our neighbuors have been 
 chosen for the absolute ladie of this merrie 
 month. With me have been (alas I am 
 ashamed to tell it) two young men, the one 
 a forrester named Therion, the other Espi- 
 lui, a shepherd, very long even in love 
 forsooth. I like them both, and love 
 neither ; JEspitus is the richer, but Therion 
 the livelier. Therion doth mee many 
 pleasures, as stealing me venison out of 
 these forrests, and many otlier such like 
 prettie and prettier services, but withal hee 
 grows to such rages, that sometimes hee 
 strikes mee, sometimes hee rails at mee. 
 This shepherd Espilus of a milde disposi- 
 lion, as his fortune hath not been to mee 
 great service, so hath hee never don mee 
 any wrong, but feeding his sheep, sitting 
 under som sweet bush, somtimes they say 
 hee records my name in doleful verses. 
 Now th.e question I am to ask you, fair 
 ladie, is, whether the many deserts and 
 many faults of Therion, or the very small 
 deserts and no faults of Espilus, bee to 
 be preferred. But before you give your 
 judgment (most excellent ladie) you shall 
 near what each of them can say for them- 
 selves in their rural songs." 
 
 Here Therion in six verses challenged 
 Espilus to sing with him. And " EspUus, 
 as if hee had been inspired with the muses, 
 began forthwith to sing, whereto his fel- 
 low Shepherds set in with their recorders, 
 which they bare in their bags like pipes ; 
 and so of Therion's side did the forresters, 
 with the cornets they wore about their 
 cncks like hunting horus in baudrikes." 
 
 At the close of this contest between 
 Therion and Espilus, they jointly sup- 
 plicated the queen's determination. " But 
 as they waited for the judgment her 
 Majestie should give of their deserts, ths 
 shepherds and forresters grew to a great 
 contention, whether of their fellows had 
 sung better, and so whether the estate of 
 shepherds or forresters were the moie wor- 
 shipful. The speakers were Dorcas an 
 old shepherd, and Rixus ayoung forrester, 
 between whom the schoolmaster Rombut 
 came in as a moderator." 
 
 To the shepherd Dorcas, who achieved 
 his best, the forester Rixus answered, 
 — "The shepherd's life had sora goodness 
 in it, becaus it borrowed of the countrie 
 quietness something like ours, but that is 
 not all ; for ours, besides that quiet part, 
 doth both strengthen the bodie, and raise 
 up the minde with this gallant sort of 
 activitie. O sweet contentation ! to see 
 the long life of the hurtless trees, to see 
 how ill streight growing np, though never 
 so high, they hinder not their fellows; tliey 
 only enviously trouble which are crook- 
 edly bent. What life is to bee compared 
 to ours, where the very growing things are 
 ensamples of goodness? wee have no 
 hopes but we may quickly go about them, 
 and going about them we soon obtain 
 them." 
 
 The May-Lady submitted to the deci- 
 sion of the queen in a short speech, and 
 " it pleased her majesty to judge that 
 Espilus did the better deserve her." 
 
 Upon this judgment, " the shepherds 
 and forresters made a full concert of their 
 cornets and recorders, and then did Espilus 
 sing." 
 
 Finally, at the end of the singing and 
 the inusic, the May-Lady took her depar- 
 ture with this speech to her majesty: 
 "Ladie, yourself, for other titles do rather 
 diminish than add unto you, I and my 
 little companie must now leav you. ;,! 
 should do you wrong to beseech you to 
 take our follies well, since your boiintie is 
 such as to pardon greater faults. There- 
 fore I will wish you good night, praying' 
 to God, according to the title I possess, 
 that as hitherto it hath excellently don, so 
 henceforward the flourishing of May may 
 long remain in you, and with you." 
 
 And so ended this May-game at Wan- 
 stead. 
 
 The Maidens' Portion. 
 [To Mr Hone.] 
 Sir — The following particulars of a 
 
533 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 534 
 
 singular beqUest, under the above title, I 
 "have for some years past heard of, but 
 a few weeks ago I Visited the place pur- 
 posely to get some information respecting 
 It, which I obtained very readily from the 
 clet-k of the Parish, on telling him that it 
 was for you. 
 
 It appears that John Herman, a native 
 of Sutton Coldfield, and a prelate in the 
 reign of Henry VIII., was promoted by 
 that monarch to the see of Exeter, in the 
 eleventh year of his reign ; and in conse- 
 quence of this part of the kingdoin being 
 but thinly inhabited at that time, owing 
 to its having been the resort of William 
 the Conqueror and several kings after him, 
 for indulging irt their favorite diversion 
 of hunting, this bishop of Exeter was ex- 
 tremely desirous to increase its population, 
 as will appear from his having established 
 the " Maidens' Portion," as recorded upon 
 his tomb, in Sutton Coldfield church — " So 
 great was his affection for this his native 
 place that he spared neither cost nor pains 
 tb improve it and make it flourish. He 
 ptomred it to be mcorporate by the name 
 of a warden and society of the king's town 
 of Sutton Coldfield, granting to them and 
 to their successors for ever the chase, park, 
 and manor. He built two aisles to the 
 church, and an organ ; he erected the moot 
 (or town) hall, with a prison under it, and 
 a market place ; also fifty-one stone houses, 
 two stone bridges Qone at Curdworth, and 
 one at Water-Horton) ; paved the whole 
 town, gave a meadow to poor widows, 
 and for the improvement of youth founded 
 and endowed a free grammar school. He 
 Wilt Moor Hall, where he spent the latter 
 part of bis life in hospitality and splendor, 
 saw for many years the good effect of his 
 nranificence, and died in the 103rd year 
 of his age, in the year of our Lord 1555." 
 Bishop Herman directed that upon his 
 death a certain sum of money should be 
 so invested and the interest be equally di- 
 vided and given annually to four poor 
 maidens, natives or long residents of 
 Sutton, of unexceptionable good character, 
 who sDould have been married in the 
 past year. This latter condition was 
 obviously to encourage wedlock in order 
 to increase the population. 
 _ The interest at first was £20, and con- 
 sequently it was 4^5 each ; but subsequent- 
 ly, owing to its having lain dormant and 
 money having risen, the interest is increas- 
 ed to £100 or £25 each. 
 
 The bequest is announced in the parish 
 ehurch annually hy the clerk, and is given 
 
 away on the first of May. There are 
 usually eight or ten applicants, whose re- 
 spective merits are tried by the warden 
 and corporation, by whose decision the 
 sums are awarded. 
 
 Natives of the place are of course pre- 
 ferred ; but if four cannot be found of good 
 character and with other qualifications then 
 the longest residents are taken. 
 Yours respectfully, 
 
 William Pake." 
 
 Birmingham, December 1826. 
 
 It is mentioned by a correspondent that 
 a girl of Raine's charity school, at St. 
 Georges in the East near London, is se- 
 lected annually on May-day, and marriea 
 with £100 for her portion, from the funds 
 of the school, according to ancient custom. 
 
 'Ware Hawk. 
 
 On the first of May 1826, in a field 
 called the Hollies, belonging to Sir Edward 
 Smythe, Bart., of Acton Burnell in Shrop- 
 shire, a flock of pigeons, and eight or ten 
 crows, were all busily seeking food. A 
 hawk, sailing in the air over them, 
 pounced on one of the pigeons, and dis- 
 persed both crows and pigeons. In the 
 course of a few seconds one of the crov.s 
 seemed to recollect himself, and flew swift- 
 ly at the hawk with the courage and 
 daring of a game cock. The hawk was 
 compelled to defend himself, and forced 
 to release his prey, which, with the loss of 
 a few feathers, flew after its company, 
 while a furious engagement for about two 
 minutes ensued, in which the crow suc- 
 ceeded in driving off the adversary. At 
 the close of the conflict the hero joined 
 his brother "crows, v»ho, from their seats on 
 the surrounding trees, had witnessed the 
 combat : with a few croaks be seemed to 
 say "I have rescued the captive," and the 
 sable company all set up a loud cawing, 
 as if singing " lo Poean to the victor 1 
 
 All this passed under the eye of a steady 
 young man, who happened to be in the 
 next meadow, and was struck mute with 
 astonishment. * 
 
 Hawtuobn. 
 
 A few years ago Mr. Taylor, of Morton, 
 received the silver medal of the Society of 
 
 * Shrewsbury Chronicle. 
 
635 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK— MAY 2. 
 
 536 
 
 hedges may be formed, in a more expedi- 
 Arts, for having discovered that hawthorn 
 tious manner than usual, by catting the 
 roots of this shrub into small pieces, and 
 planting thera with the top one-fourth of 
 an inch above the ground ; the upper end 
 of each piece may be marked when cut- 
 ting, by giving it two cuts, and the lower 
 end but one. The spring is the best time 
 to plant the sets; of those planted by Mr. 
 Taylor, not five in one hundred were lost. 
 
 St. PHrLip AND St. James. 
 The first of May stands in the church 
 calendar as the festival day of these 
 apostles, respecting whom, and for large 
 accounts of the celebration of May-day, 
 reference may be had to the 3eery-Day 
 Book. 
 
 May. 
 
 Up, up, let us greet 
 The season so sweet. 
 
 For winter is gone : 
 And tke flowers are springing, 
 And little birds singing. 
 Their soft notes ringing. 
 
 And bright is the sun t 
 Where all was drest 
 In a snowy vest. 
 There grass is growing 
 With dew-drops glowing 
 
 And flowers are seen 
 
 On beds so green. 
 
 AU down in the grove. 
 Around, above. 
 
 Sweet mnsic floats ; 
 As now loudly vying. 
 Now softly sighing. 
 The nightingale's plying 
 
 Her tuneful notes. 
 And joyous at spring 
 Her companions sing. 
 I7p, maidens, repair 
 To the meadows so fair 
 
 And dance we away 
 
 This mery May ! 
 Godfrey of Nifen, \Zth Century.* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 May 1. — Day breaks .... 2 7 
 
 Sun rises ... . 4 37 
 
 — sets 7 23 
 
 Twilight ends ... 9 53 
 Bulbous crowsfoot flowers beautifully 
 in the meadows. 
 
 Lords and ladies, or the flowers of the 
 Arum maculatum, are under the hedges 
 and shady places. 
 
 • Lays of the Minnesingers. 
 
 Red campion flows plentifully. 
 
 Bugle, yellow rattle, male orchis, and 
 female orchis, flower. 
 
 May, or whitethorn, flowers sparingly. 
 
 Gardens, fields, and meadows begin to 
 assume their richest liveries. The trees 
 are in young green leaf, and every hedge 
 and bush seems in flower. The orchards 
 are delightful, when in full blossom at this 
 time. 
 
 This is the bird-month. Swallows and 
 martinj have all arrived. The nightingale 
 and thrush continue to delight the ear by 
 night, the voice of the cuckoo is heard by 
 night and by day, and all the birds are in 
 full song. 
 
 maio 2. 
 
 William Camden, the illustrious ex- 
 plorer of our antiquities, who was born 
 in the Old Bailey, on the 2d of May, 
 1551, relates concerning the objects of 
 worship with our forefathers, as follows, — 
 Saxok Deities. 
 
 Mercury whom they called Woodan, his 
 sacrifices were men, and the day conse- 
 crated to him the fourth of the week, 
 which we therefore at this day.call Wed- 
 nesday. The sixth they consecrated to 
 Venus, whom they called Frea and Frico, 
 whence we call that day Friday, as Tues- 
 day is derived from 'Fuisco, the founder 
 of the German nation. They also wor- 
 shipped the goddess Herthus, i. e. their 
 mother earth, imagining that she interested 
 herself in the afiairs of men and nations. 
 In a temple (called in their vulgar tongue 
 Ubsola, the furniture whereof is all of 
 gold) the people worshipped the statues of 
 three gods. Thor, the most powerful of 
 them, has a room by himself in the middle: 
 on each side of him are Woodan and 
 Frico; the emblems of them are these: — 
 Thor they take to be the ruler of the air, 
 and to send as he sees convenient thtmder 
 and lightning, winds and showers, fair 
 weather and fruit. Woodan, the second, is 
 more valiant; it is he that manages 
 wars, and inspires people with courage 
 against their enemies. Frico, the third, 
 presents men with peace and pleasure, and 
 his statue is cut with a terminus, as some- 
 times seen in representations of the god of 
 gardens. They engrave Woodan armed, 
 as Mars is with us. I'hor seems to be 
 represented with the sceptre of Jupiter. 
 
S37 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 3. 
 
 £33 
 
 The Spring Siiowek. 
 
 Away to that sanny nook ; for the thick showei 
 Rushes on stridingly: Ay, now it comos. 
 Glancing about the leaves with its first dips. 
 Like snatches of faint music. Joyous-thnish, 
 It mingles with thy song, and beats soft time 
 To thy bubbling shrillness. Now it louder 
 
 falls. 
 Pattering, like the far voice of leaping rills ; 
 And now it breaks upon the shrinking clumps 
 With a crash of many sounds, — the thrush is 
 
 still. 
 There are sweet scents about us ; the violet 
 
 hides ^ 
 
 On that green bank; the primrose sparkles 
 
 there: 
 The earth is grateful to the teemiag clouds. 
 And yields a sudden freshness to their kisses. 
 But now the shower slopes to the warm west. 
 Leaving a dewy track ; and see, the big drops. 
 Like falling pearls, glisten in the sunny mist. 
 The air is clear again ; and the far woods 
 Shine out in their earlj green. Let's onward, 
 
 then* 
 For the first blossoms peep about the path. 
 The Iambs arc nibbling the short dripping 
 
 And the birds are on the bushes. 
 
 Knight's Quarterly Magazine. 
 
 " For so have I seen a lark rising from 
 liis bed of grass, and soaring upwards, 
 singing as he rises, and hopes to get to 
 heaven, and climb above the clouds ; but 
 the poor bird was beaten back by the 
 loud sighings of an eastern wind, and his 
 motion made irregular and inconstant, 
 descending more at every breath of the 
 tempest than it could recover by the vi- 
 brations and frequent weighings of his 
 wings ; till the little creature was forced 
 to sit down, and pant and stay till the 
 storm was over, and then it made a pros- 
 perous flight, and did rise and sing as if 
 it had learned music and motion from an 
 angel, as he passed sometimes through 
 the air, about his ministries here below." 
 — Jeremy Taylor. 
 
 h. m. 
 May 2. — Day breaks ... 2 3 
 Sun rises .... 4 36 
 — sets .... 7 24 
 Twilight ends ... 9 57 
 Pike, geranium flowers scantily. 
 Wall speedwell flowers in fields and on 
 walls. 
 
 The common marigold of last year's 
 plants are in flower. Its seedlings flower 
 in July. 
 
 The driving boy, beside his team 
 Of May month's beauty now wiU dream. 
 And cock his hat, and turn his eye 
 On flower, and tree, and deepening sky. 
 And oft hurst loud in fits of song. 
 And whistle as he reels along ; 
 Cracking his whip, in s.arts of joy — 
 A happy, dirty, driving boy. 
 
 Tallis's Litany 
 
 May 3, 1751, the anniversary festival 
 of the sons of the clergy was held at St. 
 Paul's cathedral, upon which occasion, by ^ 
 order of Ihe dean, was revived the ani ■ 
 cient manner of chanting the Litany, as 
 composed by Dr. Tallis, music-master to 
 Henry VIIL The collection at the church 
 and dinner, and at a previous rehearsal, 
 with a benefaction of £50 from the Apollo 
 Academy, amounted to£ll40. 16s., wliich 
 was the largest sum ever before contri- 
 buted. 
 
 Horsemanship. 
 May 3, 1758, a wag<^r was laid at 
 Newmarket, by a youi.g lady, that she 
 would ride 1000 miles in 1000 hours, 
 which she accomplished in little more 
 than a third of the time." 
 
 WuiPPiNG Toms, Leicester. 
 [ To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 Sir — If you consider the following ac- 
 count of a Shrovetide custom at Leicester 
 worth preserving in your amusing miscel- 
 lany it is much at your service. 
 
 On the south-western side of Leicester, 
 and adjoining to the remains of its ancient 
 castle, once the residence of the powerful 
 and warlike earls of Leicester, and also 
 of several of our early monarchs, and in 
 the spacious liall of which th^ assizes and 
 other courts for the county are still held, 
 is a large open space in the shape of a 
 cross, forming in the centre a handsome 
 square surrounded by large and principal- 
 ly old fashioned mansions, occupied by 
 the wealthy manufacturers and bankers of 
 that thriving town. This space is called 
 " the Newark," i. e. Newworks, being ad- 
 ditions and outworks made principally by 
 .John of Gaunt, with whom the castle was a 
 favorite residence. It is open at three 
 of the extreme ends of the cross, two of 
 which are entered by ancient embattled 
 gateways and the fourth is a Cul-de-sac, 
 
 • Boyle's Chronology. 
 
439 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 4. 
 
 . 540 
 
 So much for the locality, which during 
 the afternoon of Shrove-Tuesday is the 
 scene of considerable mirth. In this space 
 several (I think three) men, called " Whip- 
 ping Toms," each being armed with a 
 large waggon whip and attended by 
 another man carrying a hell, claim the 
 right of flogging every person whom they 
 can catch, while their attendant bell-man 
 can keep ringing his bell. If you have 
 occasion to go to any of the houses in the 
 place a small gratuity secures you from a 
 whipping. The amusement consists in 
 surrounding the bell-man, and silencing 
 his bell ; for during the cessation of ringing 
 the whipper is powerless : this however is a 
 service of some hazard and requires the 
 pombined address and activity of the 
 young men who take part in the frolic. 
 As soon however as a whipping Tom finds 
 his companion silenced, and subject to the 
 laugh of the spectators, he hurries with his 
 attendant bell to the rescue, and the scene 
 becomes one of considerable mirth and 
 animation, and many daring attempts are 
 often made to capture the succoring bell, 
 and increase their amusement on the one 
 hand, and to liberate the captured bell and 
 ^et both whips into action on the other. 
 By the three outlets escape is easy, and the 
 fourth contains a space dignified by the 
 name of little London, within which if 
 attained you are entitled to sanctuary. 
 The bustle, activity, and address occasion- 
 ed by the attempts to " silence the dreadful 
 bell," or to cross the space in defiance of 
 the whipping Toms, together with the mis- 
 haps of the luckless wights who are 
 unsuccessful in the attempt, and the bois- 
 terous mirth of the spectators when suc- 
 cessful, fender it a scene of gaiety and 
 humor to which the young look forward 
 with consideriible animation. 
 
 I have vainly endeavoured to ascertain 
 the origin and antiquity of this custom : 
 none of the inhabitants are able to afford 
 any information respecting it. The town 
 and neighbourhood contain several objects 
 interesting to the antiquarian and general 
 onqui'-er, of which I will cheerfully furnish 
 you sortie brief notices if you consider 
 " them worth your acceptance, and remain 
 Yours, truly, 
 
 J. C. B. 
 
 May 3. 
 
 Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 — sets 
 Twilight ends 
 
 b. m. 
 2 
 4 34 
 7 2S 
 10 
 
 Cross flower flowers. 
 
 Poetic narcissus flowers. 
 
 Germander speedwell flowers abun- 
 dantly. 
 
 Stock gilliflowers are out in profusion. 
 
 Common wallflower is numerously ,io 
 flower. 
 
 ifwap4. 
 
 4th May, 1733, died Mr. John Underr. 
 wood, of Whittlesca, in Cambridgeshire. 
 At his burial, when the service was over, 
 an arch was turned over the coffin, in 
 which was placed a small piece of 
 white marble with this incription, " Non 
 omnis Moriar, 1733." Then the six 
 gentlemen who followed him to the grave 
 sang the last stanza of the 20th Ode 
 of the second book of Horace. No bell 
 was tolled, no one was invited but the six 
 gentlemen, and no relation followed hi; 
 corpse. His coffin was painted green. 
 He was laid in it with all his clothej on ; 
 under his head was placed Sanadon's Ho- 
 race, at his feet Bentley's Milton, in his 
 right hand a small Greek Testament, with 
 this inscription in gold letters, IIMI EN 
 TQi STAYPQt, J. U., in his left hand a 
 small edition of Horace, with this inscrip- 
 tion, " Mvgis Amicvs, J. U.," and 
 Bentley's Horace, sub podice. After the 
 ceremony the six gentlemen returned to 
 his house, where his sister had provided 
 a cold supper ; and, on the cloth being 
 removed, they sang the 3 1st Ode of the 
 first book of Horace, drank a cheerful 
 glass, arid went home about eight. Mr. 
 Underwood left nearly 6000/. to his sister, 
 on condition of her observing this his 
 will ; he ordered her to give each of the 
 gentlemen ten guineas, and desired they 
 would not come in black clothes. The 
 will ends thus :7^" Which done, I would 
 have them lake a cheerful glass, and 
 think no more of John Underwood."* 
 
 May 4. Day breaks . . 
 Sun rises . . 
 — sets . . . 
 Twilight ends 
 Early piony flowers. 
 Pasque flower appears daily 
 Slender narcissus flowers. 
 
 • (Jem's. Mag 
 
 . 1 56 
 . 4 32 
 . 7 28* 
 ^ 10 4 
 
541 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 5. 
 
 543 
 
 Share and Bot. 
 5th May, 1803, at Ongar Point, on the 
 coast of Java, John Walker, aged 13, 
 boatswain's boy of the Ganges East India- 
 man, then lying at anchor, was swim- 
 ing close to the ship, when he was. 
 discovered by a shark, which imme- 
 diately approached him, and in. spite of 
 the exertion of a boat's crew alongside, 
 who instantly endeavoured to intimidate 
 tlie hungry monster, he seized the unfor- 
 tunate boy, by including within his mouth 
 the whole of the right leg, and more than 
 half the thigh. He pulled the boy with 
 hhn beneadi the water, in the presence of 
 upwards of 100 men, who were spectators 
 of the scene, and kept him below for 
 nearly two minutes, in which time he had 
 torn off the leg and thigh to tlie extent 
 above-mentioned. The boy once more 
 made his appearance on the surface of the 
 water, and theshark turned upon his back, 
 with his jaws again extended, to finish his 
 prey, when a lad from the boat struck 
 him with the boat-hook, and by the 
 same instrument laid hold of the boy, and 
 dragged him board. The boy had lost a 
 vast deal of blood; the stump was dread- 
 . fully lacerated, and the bone so splintered 
 as to require amputation close to the hip 
 joint. Under all these untoward circum- 
 stances, the poor fellow recovered within 
 three months from the date of the opera- 
 tion, and the fleet, compassionating his 
 ex.traoidiTiary case, subscribed upwards of 
 iaot. for him.* 
 
 For more than three years previously to 
 1 792 the abolition of the slave trade, carri- 
 ed on from the coast of Africa to the West- 
 India islands; by British subjects, was 
 warmly agitated in the parliament of Bri- 
 tain ; and a committee of the house of com- 
 mons appointed to examine witnesses 
 during two successive sessions of parlia- 
 ment, collected a great body of evi- 
 dence, which was printed for the informa- 
 tion of the members. As this formed a 
 large volume in folio, an abridgment of the 
 whole was made and printed also, for the 
 use of the members, and several abridg- 
 ments of this abridgment were afterwards 
 published throughout the nation. The 
 people, in general, warmly espoused the 
 abolition, and petitions were presented to 
 parliament, from almost every class of 
 persons in the kingdom, praying that this 
 
 * Bombay Courier. 
 
 traffic, which they deemed a disgrace to 
 humanity, and a reproach to the name of 
 Christians, might be abolished. In 1792 
 the house of commons resolved, in a 
 committee of the whole house, that the 
 slave-trade was improper to be continued; 
 but, on account of certain considerations 
 of expediency, determined that its aboli- 
 tion should be gradual, and a bill was 
 passed, permitting the trade, under cer- 
 tain limitations, to be carried on till the 
 1st of January, 1796, after which it was 
 to be totally prohibited. When this bill 
 was carried to the house of lords, the 
 peers found it inconsistent with their dig- 
 nity to admit evidence which had not 
 been taken at their own bar; and, as their 
 examination of witnesses could not be 
 closed during the then session of parlia- 
 ment, the bill was necessarily lost for that 
 year. In the mean time the claims of 
 certain parties, whose "vested interests" 
 were likely to be affected by the abolition 
 of the traffic, were represented by the fol- 
 lowing 
 
 Petition 
 To the Riglit Honorable, S^e, 
 " Shevjeth, 
 
 " That your petitioners are a numerous 
 body, and, at present, in a very flourish- 
 ing situation, owing chiefly to the constant 
 visitation of the shipping of your island. 
 
 "That, by hovering round these floating 
 dungeons, your petitioners are supplied 
 with large quantities of their most fa- 
 vorite food — human flesh. 
 
 " That your petitioners arenot only 
 sustained, by the carcases of those who 
 have falleO by distempers, but are fre- 
 quently gratified with rich repasts from 
 the bodies of living negroes, who volun- 
 tarily plunge into the abodes of your pe- 
 tioners, preferring instant destruction by 
 their jaws, to the imaginary horrors of a 
 lingering slavery. 
 
 " That, among the enormous breakers 
 and surfs which roll on the shores of your 
 petitioners, numbers of English boats are 
 destroyed, the crews of which usually fall 
 to their lot, and afford them many a deli- 
 cious meal; but, above all, that large ves- 
 sels, crowded with negroes, are sometimes 
 dashed on the rocks and shoals, which 
 abound in the regions of your petitionees, 
 whereby hundreds of human beings, both 
 black and white, are at once precipitated 
 into their element, where the gnawing of 
 human flesh, and the crashing of bones, 
 afford to your petitioners the highest gran 
 
543 
 
 THE ^EAIl BOOK.— MAY 5. 
 
 £44 
 
 fication which their natures are capable of 
 enjoying. 
 
 " Thus benefited, as your petitioners 
 are, by this widely-extended traffic, a 
 traffic which has never before beea mo- 
 lested, it is with tlie utmost ijidignation 
 they hear that there are in Britain men, 
 who, under the specious plea of humanity, 
 are endeavouring to accomplish its abo- 
 lition. — But your petitioners trust that 
 this attempt at innovation, this flourishing 
 of the trumpet of liberty, by which ' more 
 is meant than meets the ear,' will be 
 effectually frustrated'. 
 
 " Should the lower branch of the legis- 
 lature be so far infatuated by this new- 
 fangled humanity as seriously to meditate 
 the destruction of this beneficial com- 
 merce, your petitioners have the firmest 
 reliance on the wisdom and fellow-feel- 
 ings of the lords spiritual and temporal of 
 Great Britain. 
 
 " Your petitioners know that the truly , 
 benevolent will ever be consistent, — ^that 
 they will not sacrifice one part of animated 
 nature to the preservation of another, — 
 that they will not suffer sharks to starve, 
 in order that negroes may be happy ; — 
 yet your petitioners are apprehensive that 
 the baleful influence of this philanthropic 
 mania is already felt, even within the 
 walls of your lordships ; wherefore they 
 crave to be heard by counsel, at the bar 
 of your august assembly, when, notwith- 
 standing the wild ravings of fanaticism, 
 they hope to evince that the sustenance of 
 sharks, and the best interests of your 
 ordships, are intimately connected with 
 the traffic in human flesh. 
 
 " Fearful of becoming tedioup, your 
 petitioners have only to add, that, should 
 the abolition take place (which the god of 
 sharks avert ! ) the prosperity of your pe- 
 titioners will inevitably be destroyed, and 
 their numbers, by being deprived of their 
 accustomed food, rapidly diminished. 
 But, on the other hand, should your lord- 
 ships, in your legislative capacity, scorn 
 the feelings of the vulgar, and nobly in- 
 terfere, either openly, or by procrastina- 
 tion, to preserve this invigorating trade 
 from the ruin that now seems to await it, 
 your petitioners, and their wide-mouthed 
 posterity, as bv nature urged, will ever 
 prey, &c." 
 
 Soft airs and gentle heavingt of the nava 
 Impel the fleet whose errand is to save. 
 To succour wasted regions, and replace 
 The smile of opulence in sorrow's face, — ■ 
 But ah ! what wish can prosper, or what 
 
 prayer, 
 l^or merchants rich in cargoes of despair. 
 Who drive a loathsome tratfic, gauge and span. 
 And huy the muscles and the bones of man ? 
 COWPER. 
 
 Heav'n speed the canvass, gallantly unfurVd 
 To furnish and accommodate a world. 
 To '^ive the pole the produce of the sun. 
 And knit the unsocial climates into one,— • 
 
 " What greater measure can we have, 
 than that we should bring joy to our bro- 
 ther, who, with his dreary eyes, looks to 
 heaven, and round about, and cannot find 
 so much rest as to lay his eyelids close 
 together ; than that thy tongue should be 
 tuned with heavenly accents, and make 
 the very soul to listen for ease and light, 
 and when he perceives there is such a 
 thing in the world, and in the order of 
 things, as comfort and joy, to begin to 
 break out from the prison of his sorrows, 
 at the door of sighs and tears, and by 
 little and little melt into showers and 
 refreshment ? This is glory to thy voice, 
 and employment fit for the brightest 
 angel. But so have I seen the sun kiss 
 the frozen earth, which was bound up with 
 the images of death, and the. colder breath 
 of the north ; and then the waters break 
 from their enclosures, and melt with joy, 
 and run ir, useful channels ; and the flies 
 do rise again from their little giaves in 
 walls, and dance awhile in the. air, to tell 
 that their joy is within, and that the great 
 mother of creatures will open the stock of 
 her new refreshment, become useful to 
 mankind, and sing praises toher redeemer! 
 so is the heart of a sorrowful man under 
 the discourses of a wise comforter ; he 
 breaks from the despairs of the' grave, 
 and the fetters and chains of sorrow ; he 
 blesses God, and he blesses thee ; and he 
 feels his life returning ; for, to be miser- 
 able is death ; but, nothing is life but to 
 be comforted ; and God is pleased with 
 no music from below, so much as in the 
 thanksgiving songs of relieved widows, 
 of supported orphans, of rejoicing, and 
 comforted and thankful persons.^' — Je- 
 remy Taylor, 
 
 h. m. 
 May 5. — Day breaks . . 1 52 
 Sun rises . . . 4 31 
 — sets ... 7 29 
 Twilight ends .10 8 
 Oaks are in young leaf. 
 Elms have their leaves nearly expanded. 
 Early' cherry-trees go out of blossom. 
 
Mo 
 
 THF. YEAR BOOK—MAY 5. 
 
 S46 
 
 ■^.^^1'**' 
 
 MAUSOLEUM OF THE TALBOTS, DORKING CHURCH. 
 
 As the clock struck four in tlie after- 
 noon of Thursday, the 31st March last, 
 we left the Spread Eagle, Gracechurch- 
 street, for the purpose of visiting Bokhill, 
 a romantic spot in the vicinity of Dorkinsr, 
 
 Vol. 1 — 10. 
 
 Surrey. Tlie aky was cloudless, and the 
 sun, which had shone forth for several 
 hours, had so tempered Ihe air, that in 
 spite of a keen easterly wind, we felt happy 
 enough. By " easy roads" wc soon not 
 
 T 
 
547 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 5. 
 
 448 
 
 quit of the city and suburbs, and passed 
 quietly onward towards our destiuation. 
 We had resolved on sojourning for the 
 night at Dorking, a place of little note, 
 except for a peculiar breed of fowls, sup- 
 posed to have been introduced there by 
 the Romans,* because similar ones are 
 mentioned by Columella in his "Hus- 
 bandry." 
 
 We alighted at the Red Lion, and re- 
 alized the pilgrim-poet's description of the 
 "Tabard"— 
 
 the chambres weren wide, 
 Aod well we weren esed atte beste. 
 
 Under the influence of a comfortable fire 
 and a hearty meal, we grew presently 
 mighty merry, and set o£r for a walk by 
 star-light through the town. The church 
 bells were chiming " Hanover" as we re- 
 turned, and their music softened and sub- 
 dued by distance brought forcibly to mind 
 those beautifully ' descriptive lines of 
 Cowper's — 
 
 How soft the music of those village bells. 
 Falling at intervals upon the ear, 
 in cadence sweet, now dying all away, 
 Nowf ealing load again, and loader still. 
 Clear aEfd'soaoious as the gale comes o&. 
 
 The evening waspassed chiefly in plan- 
 niitg our proceedings for the next day, 
 and talking over such matters of interest 
 as arose out of our journey, or were con- 
 nected with the various objects which we 
 had noticed during our ride, the result of 
 which was the catalogue here inserted: 
 
 Item. A Pegasus or flying horse, " up- 
 standing, uncovered," with dragon-like 
 wings, and a nose boring the moon, iii the 
 paddock of a suburban villa not far dis- 
 tant from Morden — " I would you did 
 but see bo w it chafes, how it rages, how 
 it takes up the ground, but that's not to 
 the point," as Shakspeare says. 
 
 Item. The parish church of Morden, 
 which hath no antiquity and little beauty 
 to recommend it. 
 
 Item. The church of St. Dunstan, at 
 Cheam, wherein lie the remains of Jane, 
 Lady Lumley, a " booke-maker," in those 
 sinaple days when there were no lawyers. 
 
 Item. The very romantic town of 
 Ewell, with its pretty church and church- 
 yard.* 
 
 Item. The downs at Epsom, with the 
 windows of the grand stand, red-hot in 
 the setting sun. Also, the town iteelf, 
 
 • The Stane-street, or Roman-road, from 
 Anindel to Dorking, is said to have passed 
 thrvugh the church-yard of this place. 
 
 and a "very irregular" church, in the ceme- 
 tery whereof ye may note this strange 
 epitaph : — 
 , Here licth the carcase 
 
 Of honest Charles ParliliuTst, 
 Who ne're could dance or sing. 
 But always was true to 
 His Sovereign Lord the King, 
 Charles the First, 
 
 Ob. Dec. XX. MDCOIV. 
 ictat. LXXXVI. 
 
 Item. The church of Lered, otherwise 
 Lethcrhead, buiU in old time by an Abbot 
 of Chertsey, with a pretty cross of wood 
 above it. 
 
 Item. The massy tower of Mickleham, 
 with a wondrous small cone upon it, like 
 unto an Elephant in his night-cap ! very 
 neat and sightly withal, and garnished 
 with good store of ivy. 
 
 Item. A sign-board daintily painted 
 with a jockey azure, and or, on a courser 
 proper, swinging in front of a certain house, 
 known as the " Horse and Groom," where 
 Guthrie compiled some of his works. 
 
 Item. Burford bridge, a pretty struc- 
 ture with three arches, nigh unto which is 
 a charming house of entertainment called 
 " the Hare and Hounds," and above it the ' 
 wooded heights of Box-hill, which rose 
 as we rose through the dim twilight, after 
 such solemn fashion that there was some- 
 thing of mystery and fear in the feelings 
 with which we looked upon them. But 
 other than these things saw we little, ex« 
 cept only the mean church tower of 
 Dorking, as we entered its long but still 
 street. And so ends the catalogue. 
 
 We retired to rest, and the " heavy 
 hoiey-dew of slumber" soon fell on us. 
 I awoke betimes and found the morning 
 cold and cloudy, with occasional gusts of 
 wind. A rookery fronted my window, and 
 for some time I watched its tenants alter- 
 nately rising above the tree tops and drop- 
 ping again suddenly, or wheeling off 
 towards a green hill at no great distance, 
 not indeed " without caws, but certainly 
 with no very apparent motive. Beside 
 the pleasant colloquies of this assembly, 
 ray ears were greeted with the clatter of a 
 wheelbarrow . jumping over the paved 
 court beneath, and the shrill music of a 
 solitary cock — 
 
 with noisy din, 
 
 Scatt'ring the rear of darkness thin. ■ 
 But notwithstanding these morning melo- 
 dies I arose, from very restlessness, an 
 hour before my usual time, and paid a 
 visit to the churcli, a neat building, though 
 
549 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— MAY 5. 
 
 550 
 
 the roof being of slitte-stone gives it rather 
 a slovenly appearance. It is screened on 
 the north by gentle slopes, prettily diver- 
 sified and exhibiting many spots of sin- 
 gular beauty. Against the wall, on this 
 side, I noticed an erection, green with 
 lichens, and scanty tufts of grass, shattered, 
 and fast vergiiig to decay, vvhich I have 
 since learned is a mausoleum of the Tal- 
 bot family, of Chert Park, near Dorking. 
 The ivy, clustering round one of the massy 
 buttresses supporting the tower, chattered 
 and shivered to the chiding wind as it 
 swept past it, toying with my paper whilst 
 I stood to make the drawing here copied, 
 and I ffelt the solemnizing influence of the 
 scene which I was endeavouring to transfer 
 to my sketch-book. But the blank air of 
 desolation and solitude investing these 
 mouldering objects— the dark scowling 
 sky, and the sobbing of the elements around 
 me, admitted of no such embodying, thougft 
 they filled the mind with deep and''mys-< 
 terious musings of "ruin, boundless- 
 ness, omnipotence." The iron tailings 
 surrounding this burial place, (Jisjbiiited, 
 and profusely covered with rujit- — the frac- 
 tured pediment — ^andthe bfald escutcheon, 
 exhibiting but few. and "faint traces of that 
 gilding which had ontt covered the greater 
 part of it, and; entirely divested of its 
 other tinctures, preached forcibly the pass- 
 ing nature of ^1! earthly things, and led 
 the thoughts onward to that changeless 
 state, in which neither moth nor rust cor- 
 rupteth, and where '-each hath all, yet 
 none do lack." 
 
 After breakfast we lost no time in visit- 
 ing Box-hill, which had been the main 
 object of our journey ; and, quitting the 
 town, proceeded by Deepdene, until a road 
 on our left promised us an opportunity of 
 arriving speedily at our destination. But 
 our expectations were not so soon realized, 
 for after crossing a field or two to our 
 right we found the " romantic mole" in- 
 terposed between us and the hill, though 
 we lost nothing by our ramble, as it 
 afforded us a fine view of the rising 
 grounds about us, with occasional patches 
 of sunshine resting on them, and trans- 
 forming the young foliage, as it breathed 
 over i^, to a pale primrose hue, which was 
 strikingly contrasted with the warm, 
 intense, riiddy light, tinging the natural 
 velvet of a thatched cottage near at hand, 
 till it flamed out against tlie dull, cold 
 back-ground, " a glorious thing, and a 
 beautiful." 
 
 Ovving to this mistake of ours we were 
 
 obliged to retrace our steps beside the 
 river, amusing ourselves with culling sim- 
 Jjles, and thinking, as we gazed on the sun- 
 lit shallows which presented a variety of 
 tints, of these sweet and pleasant verses 
 of tlie I'armer's boy — 
 Sweet health I seek thee ! hither bring 
 The balm that softens human ills. 
 Come on the long-dra-wn clouds that fling 
 Their shadows o'er the Surry hills ; 
 Yon green-topt hills, and far away ! 
 Where late, as now I freedom stole. 
 And spent one dear delicious day. 
 On thy wild banks romantic Mole ! * 
 Aye there's the scene, beyond the sweep 
 Of London's congregated cloud, 
 The dark brow'd wood, the headlong steep 
 And valley paths, without a crowd ! 
 Here,t Thames, I watch thy Sowing tides — 
 Thy thousand sails am glad to see ; 
 jBut, where the Mole all silent glides, 
 "-JBwells peace, and peace is wealth to me. 
 
 i«: We passed the stream by a bridge over 
 "the dam of Mr. Dewdney's mill, and 
 after crossing a few fields began to ascend 
 the hill, occasionally halting to look back 
 on the charming scenery below us, till we 
 reached the wood on its summit and threw 
 ourselves down upon the fresh fragrant 
 box, or the mossy sod, covered with 
 violets, to expatiate at our ease on the vast 
 extent of country before us, bounded by 
 the loftier ridge of Leith-hill, the tower 
 on which forms a conspicuous object. 
 
 We made our way for some little dis- 
 tance through the wood, till a green walk 
 offered us easier progress, and, after wan- 
 dering amidst the yew-groves which 
 abound on this delightful spot, came round 
 to that part of the hill immediately above 
 Burford bridge, and looked down on the 
 tranquil Mole, " which, coming to White- 
 hill, upon which the box-tree grows in 
 great abundance, hides itself, or is rather 
 swallowed up at the foot of it, and for that 
 reason the place is called 'Swallow.' " 
 So, at least, says Camden, though we were 
 not fortunate enough to stumble upon this 
 tame " Swallowl" There seems to be 
 little doubt that Box-hill and Whitehill 
 are identical, and this mention of it proves 
 the trees upon it to be of earlier origin 
 than those suppose who assign the reign 
 of Charles the Second as the period of 
 their introduction here. 
 
 After a long and noisy debate, relative 
 to our farther proceedings, we returned 
 round the same side of the hill, though 
 somewhat higher, until we reached a bleak 
 
 • Boxhill, 
 
 t Shooter's-hill. 
 T 3 
 
551 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 5. 
 
 552 
 
 and barren tract, laid down in our maps 
 as Headley-heath, along which we jour- 
 neyed northward with little besides ou. 
 own good company to amuse us, though 
 after some time we caught a few glimpses 
 of exquisite scenery to our right ; and 
 presently a bold range of hills opened 
 before us, beautifully chequered with 
 shade and sun-shine. 
 
 We reached Walton-heath without any 
 material occurrence, and passed an en- 
 campment of gypsies in a sheltered nook, 
 consoling themselves over a crackling fire, 
 the red flame of which flickered in the 
 sun light, and gave to their dark and 
 savage countenances a still fiercer cast. 
 From the covert of a tattered blanket, not 
 far distant, we saw in rapid succession 
 four or five "wee things todlin, stacher'' 
 onwards, to their reckless parents, half 
 clad, and without any " fiecherin noise 
 an' gUe ;" and beside the group a couple 
 of donkeys, apparently possessed of kind- 
 lier feelings than their masters, resting 
 .their chins on each other's shoulders. 
 
 The picturesque little church of Walton 
 on the hill soon appeared on our left, and 
 we crossed the heath and several pleasant 
 fields towards it, and at length entered the 
 church yard. We had understood that 
 some Roman bricks were built into this 
 edifice, but on examination it appeared to 
 have been so extensively repaired as to 
 present almost the appearance of a new 
 erection. The tower is singularly neat, 
 and were it not finished rather abruptly 
 might be classed amongst the most pleasing 
 structures of the kind. I chose a sunny 
 corner of the church-yard, where a group 
 of fowls were beating their wings in the 
 dust, and apparently welcoming the birth 
 of " proud pied April," to make a sketch 
 of it, and the clever weathercock sup 
 
 north side, noticed a low arched receis 
 which might formerly have screened some 
 sepulchral effigy. From a wboden me- 
 morial I copied the following lines, which 
 nave much the character of those letters 
 dsually appended to « last dying speeches" s 
 " Dear Husband, 
 
 Since my life is past, love did remain while 
 life did last ; but now no sorrow for me make ; 
 pray love my children for my sake." 
 
 From this place we "took to the road 
 again," and pioceeded quietly enough 
 towards a majestic tree, one of those 
 " glossy-rinded beeches" which Dyer 
 might have had in his eye when alluding 
 to the adjacent downs of Banstead. On 
 the oppositie side of the common stands a 
 quiet hostelrie, known as the Red Lion ; 
 and somewhat wearied with our pilgrimage 
 we shaped our course towards it, and were 
 soon seated in one of its snug apartments, 
 on the walls of which we noticed several 
 paintings. That of which our hostess 
 seemed most proud was a wishy-washy 
 compound of red-lead, iudian-ink, and 
 cabbage-green, labelled in large letters 
 " The Red Lion." " The long tailed Para- 
 keet," and its companion a golden phea- 
 sant, daintily embossed on a fair half sheet 
 of foolscap, — in frames, properly hung, as 
 they deserved to be, for they were " black 
 with gilt," — and view of CanonburyTower, 
 were also conspicuous amongst the em- 
 bellishments of this little room. But the 
 choicest bit of art was a portrait in oil, of 
 superior execution, exhibiting such a 
 child-like roguishness of expression, and 
 so pretty an air of non- chalance, that I felt 
 much interested in it, and questioned the 
 proprietor concerning its history, but could 
 only learn that it had been in the house, 
 " twenty years." 
 
 We resumed our walk, and came pre- 
 sently in sight of Banstead church, with a 
 
 mounting it. The cock seemed a little 
 disconcerted at my unceremonious intru- 
 sion, arid walked off with an ill grace, 
 expostulating loudly on my conduct. 
 
 1 could see through one of the windows 
 some " heraldries" in stained glass, and two 
 small paintings, apparently of scripture 
 subjects; and outside the luilding, vn the 
 
&53 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 5. 
 
 5M 
 
 spire considerably out of the perpen- 
 dicular, which " G." naturally enough 
 accounted for by supposing that the poor- 
 ness of the soil might make it kan, much 
 ID the same manner as it affects the mutton 
 hereabout, which being fed on " short 
 commons,"* though very delicate, is re- 
 markable for its smallness. Now lest any 
 should think this fact a mere " figure or 
 phantasy," coined for the use of certain 
 punsters of our company, I adduce the 
 testimony of Dyer, from whose " Fleece" 
 these lines are quoted : — 
 
 ■ Wide airy downs 
 
 Are health's gay walks to shepherd and to 
 
 sheep. 
 All arid soils, with sand or chalky flint. 
 Or shells dilnvian mingled ; and the toif 
 That mantles over rocks of brittle stone. 
 Be thy regard -, and where low tufted broom. 
 Or box, or berty'd juniper arise ; 
 Or the tall growth of glossy-rinded beech. 
 And where the burrowing rabbit turns the dust. 
 And where the dappled deer delights to bound ; 
 Such are the downs of Banstead, edged with 
 
 woods. 
 And towery villas. 
 
 From these " downs'' the view north- 
 ward is very extensive and beautiful, the 
 pretty church and village of Cheam form- 
 iog a conspicuous object to the left, over 
 which the prospect stretches as fer as 
 Highgate and Hampstead ; and the heights 
 of Norwood being distinctly visible on the 
 right. We halted for some minutes, look- 
 ing with pained gaze at the " lyric lark" 
 hanging high above us in the sunny air, 
 and pouring forth such a flood of min- 
 strelsy, that I caught myself unconsciously 
 repeating that childish, ditty of Words- 
 wprth — 
 
 Up with me '. up with me ! into the donds ; 
 For thy song, lark, is strong. 
 
 We soon reached Sutton, where we pur- 
 posed dining, and, having given orders 
 accordingly, adjourned to the church, on 
 the north wall of which we expected to 
 find an inscription soliciting our prayers 
 for the good estate of William Foul, and 
 Alice, bis mother, which formerly ap- 
 peared there. But in this we were dis- 
 appointed, for a new erection has been 
 raised on that side the building ornamented 
 with the arms here representad, 
 
 • Borrowed — J. L. 
 
 but exhibiting nothing of this " olde, olde, 
 very olde," relic of tiiose darker days, 
 when the heedless dead were by common 
 consent — 
 
 doomed to fast in fires. 
 
 Till the foul crimes done in their days of 
 
 nature 
 Were burnt and purged away. 
 
 The door standing open we ventured 
 into the church, and found it " upholden 
 in wondrous good repair," and not barren 
 of " remarkables," amongst which the 
 gorgeous marble monument of dame Dor- 
 othy Brownlow, beside the altar, claimed 
 our first attention. She is represented in 
 a recumbent posture, with three sorrowing 
 infants about her, and four cherubs above, 
 in a dish of hasty pudding garnished with 
 slices of gilt gingerbread. From a more 
 humble memorial opposite, I copied these 
 verses — 
 
 This monument presents unto your views 
 A woman rare, in whom all grace divine. 
 Faith, Love, Zeal, Piety, in splendid hue. 
 With sacred knowledge perfectly did shine. 
 Since, then, examples teach, learn you by this 
 To mount the steppes of everlasting blisse. 
 
 We explored the church-yard, and 
 laughed heartily, when perhaps we ought 
 to have been more seriously inclined, at 
 this flaming epitaph on a butcher of the 
 ]9th century— 
 
 A steady friend to truth, a heart sincere. 
 In dealing strictly just, in conscience clear. 
 Here Boorer lies, — Oh stone record his name. 
 Virtues like these may others boast the same. 
 When pitving sorrow drops a tender tear. 
 The last sad tribute to a friend sincere ! 
 
 On our return to the inn we found that 
 the name of our host corresponded with 
 that of the worthy individual whose death 
 had been thus honorably recorded. And 
 certainly we found his ale as " clear" as his 
 namesake's conscience, and his chops as 
 "tender" as his kinsfolk's tears. We 
 quitted our hospitable quarters about five 
 o'clock, and before we reached Strealham 
 experienced a heavy fall of rain, which 
 promised little intermission, so that we 
 gladly availed ourselves of the first con- 
 
5*5 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— IVIAY 6, 7 
 
 556 - 
 
 veyance homeward ;~and thus ended t]ie 
 day's eventful history. D. A. 
 
 Camberwell, April 1831. 
 
 iWap 6. 
 
 IsA&c AHD Peter Oliveb. 
 
 Horace Walpol«'s mention of the sale of 
 an historical miniature by Peter Oliver^ in 
 May 1 726, suggests this as an opportunity 
 to allude to the performances of Peter, and 
 his distinguished father, Isaac Oliver. 
 
 Mr. Granger says, there never appeared 
 in England, nor perhaps in the whole 
 world, a greater master in miniature than 
 Isaac Oliver. Jle painted a few pieces of 
 history, but generally portraits; which 
 have so much trut,h and delicacy, >ts never: 
 to have been.equalled, but by the smaller 
 works of Holbein. He died in the reign of- 
 Charles I. Peter died in 1654. In por- 
 traits he was comparable with his father. 
 Granger adds, that the head of Peter 
 Oliver's wife is supposed to be the most 
 capital of his works. 
 
 stopped, and she never received it after- 
 wards. 
 
 The greater part of the collection of 
 pictures made by Charles I., amongwhich 
 were several of the Oliver's, being dis- 
 persed in th^ troubles, Charles II., who 
 rememberfed and was desirous of recover- 
 ing them, made many inquiries about them 
 after the restoration. At last he was told 
 that, Peter Oliver's widow was living at 
 IslewOrlh and had many of their works. 
 The king went very privately and un- 
 known to see them, and the widow showed 
 several finished and unfinished. Charles 
 asked if she would sell them; she replied 
 she had a mind the king should see them 
 first. He thsfi discovered himself, on 
 which she produced others which she sel- 
 dom exhibited. "The king desired her to 
 set her price : she said she did not care to 
 do that with his majesty, she would leave 
 it to him ; but she promised to look over 
 her husband's books, and let his majesty' 
 know what prices his father, the late king, 
 had paid. The king took away what he 
 liked, and sent a message to Mrs. Oliver 
 with the option of £lOOO or an annuity of 
 £300 for her life. She chose the annuity. 
 Some years afterwards it happened that 
 Charles's mistresses had begged all or 
 most of these pictures, which Mrs. Oliver 
 being told of, she said that if she thought 
 that the king would have given them 
 away to such — [sort of people] — he never 
 should have had them. This reached the 
 couct, the poor woman's annuity was 
 
 The name of Oliver appears to have 
 been connected with the arts from the 
 time of James I., to whom John Oliver 
 was master-mason. His descendant, of 
 the same name, was one of the three com- 
 missioners for regulating the plan of build- 
 ing the city of London after the great fire 
 in 1666. Aubrey says, that he was the 
 city surveyor, and that he became pos- 
 sessed of a great part of the MS. designs 
 and sketches of Inigo Jones. This John 
 Oliver, who is presumed to have been son 
 to James, a younger brother of Peter 
 Oliver's, is also presumed to have been 
 the painter of the Saving of St. Peter from . 
 prisoii, on a glass window, at Christ- • 
 Church, Oxford, inscribed, " J. Oliver, 
 aetaf. suse 84, anno 1700,pinxit deditque." 
 The finest specimen of his minute works, 
 sun-dials with flies, insects, and butterflies, 
 is (or was) in the parlour window of the 
 rectory house at Northill in Bedfordshire, 
 where he had been employed to make a 
 window of exquisitely finished blazoning; 
 for the chancel of the church. One of his 
 best performances is a sun-dial, with the 
 arms of archbishop Sheldon, and a view 
 of the theatre at Oxford, now in Lambeth 
 palace. 
 
 May 6.- 
 
 h. m. 
 -Daybreaks . . 1 49 
 Sun rises ... 4 29 
 — sets ... 7 31 
 Twilight ends . 10 11 
 Lesser stitchwort flowers. 
 Rough crowsfoot flowers. 
 Lilacs are in flower. 
 European globeflower is frequently in 
 flower; though in some situations it blows 
 a fortnight later. 
 Field Sherrardia flowers generally. 
 
 May Poles amd Plays. 
 
 A letter of this date in the time of the 
 Commonwealth is pointed out by a cor- 
 respondent, I. H. S., with this remark, 
 " that, previously to the restoration, most 
 classes had adopted the maxim of the 
 vicar of Bray, and were making 'right 
 merrie,' on being, in a great measure, 
 freed from the restraint in which the pecu- 
 liar doctrines of the rulers of the nation 
 had for a long time held them.' 
 
55r 
 
 THE YEAR ^OOK.-MAY 7. 
 
 5S8i 
 
 [Copy.] 
 "Newcastle, the 7th day of May, 1660. 
 " Sir, — ^The country as well as the towtj 
 abounds with vanities, now the reins of 
 liberty and licentiousness are let loose. 
 May-poles, and Plays, and Juglers, and 
 all things else now pass current ; sin now 
 appears with a brazen face. That wicked 
 spirit amongst men, that formerly was 
 curbed and restrained, doth now auda- 
 ciously and impudently show itself with 
 boasting and gloriation."* 
 
 Gboom Porter 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Whether the decorous spectacle described 
 in the Year Book at pp. 25, 60, of royalty 
 throwing dice at the Groom Porter's, is still 
 exhibited I cannot say ; but that the custom 
 was observed so late as a century since is 
 proved by the first number of the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine, which after describing 
 various odier ceremonies at Court on 
 T welfth Day, 1 73 1 , proceeds : — " At night, 
 their Majesties play'd at hazard with the 
 Nobility, for the benefit of the Groom 
 Porter • and 'twas said the king won 600 
 guineas, the queen 360, the princess 
 Amelia twenty, the princess Caroline ten, 
 the earl of Portmore and duke of Graf- 
 ton several thousands." 
 
 I cannot refrain from adding the para- 
 graph which immediately succeeds, be- 
 cause, taken in connexion with the pre- 
 ceding, it describes a delightful mode of 
 dispensing equally those " laws which 
 were made for ev'ry degree" — 
 
 "At night, Mr. Sharpless, hign con- 
 stable of Holbolm division, together with 
 several of his petty constables, went to 
 search a notorious gaming-house behind 
 Grays Inn Walks, by virtue of a warrant 
 under the hands and seals of the right 
 honorable Lord Delawar, and eleven 
 
 • Loud call to England, 1660, p. 24. 
 
 other of His Majesty's justices of the 
 peace for the county of Middlesex ; but 
 the gamesters having previous iratice they 
 all fled, except the master of the house, 
 who, being named in the warrant, was ap- 
 prehended, examined, and bound in a 
 recognizance of £200 penalty, pursuant 
 to the old statute of 33 Henry VIII." 
 
 Certainly there is nothing more com- 
 mendable than even-handed justice. 
 
 Some farther allusions to the practices 
 at the Groom Porter's may be collected 
 from old plays, — 
 
 "He will win you, 
 3y unresistible luck, within this fortnight. 
 Enough to buy a barony. They will set him 
 Upmost at the Groom Porter't, all the Christ- 
 mas." — Jonion't Alchemut, Act 3. 
 
 "Faith! ill company, and that common 
 vice of the town, gaming, soon ran out 
 my younger brother's fortune ; for, ima- 
 gining, like some of the luckier gamesteis, 
 to improve my stock at the Groom 
 Porters, I ventured on and lost all." — 
 Mrs. Behn's Widow Ranter, Act 1 . 
 
 " O happy man ! I shall never need to 
 sneak after a lord, to smg catches, to 
 break jests, to eat and rook with him. 
 I'll get me a pack of fox-dogs, hunt every 
 day, and play at the Groom Portej's at 
 night."— SAarfjoeH'* True Widow, Act 3. 
 J. B n. 
 
 Staffordshire Moorlands. 
 
 May 7. — Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 Yellow asphode flowers.. 
 Water avens flower numerously. 
 Asiatic globe-flower blows with orange 
 colored flowers. 
 
 Columbine sometimes flowers. 
 Herb Benet comes into flower. 
 Horse-chestnut in flower. 
 
 h. 
 
 m, 
 
 1 
 
 45 
 
 4 
 
 27 
 
 7 
 
 33 
 
 10 
 
 15 
 
 Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king, 
 Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring ; 
 Cold doth not sting : the pretty birds do sing 
 Cuckow, jugge, jugge, pu we, to witta woo. 
 
 The palm and may make country houses gay. 
 Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day ; 
 And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay 
 Cuckow, jugge, jugge, pu we, to witta woo. 
 
 The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, 
 
 Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit ; 
 
 In every street these tunes our ears do greet, 
 
 Cuckow, jugge, jugge, pu we, to witta woo. T. Nash, 1600 
 
559 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— MAY 7. 
 
 5C0 
 
 CHESSMEN DESIGNED BY FLAXMAN. 
 
 The annexed notice is by a gentleman 
 who possesses a set of elegant chess- 
 men, which he most obligingly lent, for 
 the purpose of drawings being made 
 from such of the pieces as might be se- 
 lected. Six engravings are executed, in- 
 cluding the king and queen above. 
 
 Flaxman's Chessmen. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 In this country the game of chess is 
 generally played with pieces either of 
 wood or ivory, just sufficiently carved at 
 the top to denote their different character 
 and povfer, and with turned bases. In 
 many of our shops for articles of eastern 
 luxury, sets of chessmen of elaborate 
 workmanship, and costly material, are 
 exhibited, to attract the notice of the 
 '• passers by," while it is not generally 
 known that the late distinguished sculptor, 
 John Flaxman, R. A., of whom it has 
 been justly said, that " he was the first 
 
 of our countrymen who united poetry with 
 sculpture, ex'ecuted for Messrs. Wedge- 
 wood, of Etruria, a series of models for a 
 set of chessmen, which, for beauty of 
 design, and variety of attitude, are un- 
 rivalled. It is to be regretted that, from 
 the close of Messrs. WedgevKood's esta- 
 blishment in London, no further informa- 
 tion relative to these specimens of elegai^t 
 pottery can be obtained than that " the 
 moulds are still in existence." 
 
 As you, Mr. Hone, have thought de- 
 signs from some of these " pieces" would 
 form a pleasing embellishment to the 
 Year Book, I will endeavour to give some 
 little description of them. 
 
 The kings and queens are statues of 
 about three inches and a-half, standing 
 on circular pedestals of three quarters of 
 an inch in height; the postures of the 
 black king and queen are very bold and 
 striking; but the expression of simple 
 dignity in the white king and queen [en- 
 graved above] is particularly interesting. 
 
561 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— MAY 7. 
 
 662 
 
 The bishopssLte from one mould. Could 
 your readers see the cast, I think they 
 would acknowledge that tlie figure could 
 not be surpassed. The spirit of religion 
 and meekness has never been developed 
 in a purer form ; the countenance, the 
 attitude, the fall of the drapery, are all 
 inexpressibly beautiful. 
 
 The knights are likewise from the same 
 mould : the grouping of the man and 
 horse is very graceful, and the action 
 highly spirited and characteristic. 
 
 The custles, also alike, represent a 
 square " Donjon keep," with a single 
 turret, or watch tower, at one angle of the 
 battlements. 
 
 The pawns, about two inches in height, 
 are figures of men at arms, bill-men and 
 bow-men, in various positioiis of offence 
 or defence : the attitude of a wounded 
 warrior, and of another who is about to 
 hurl a large stone on his enemy, is very 
 good. 
 
 Every figure in this set of chessmen is 
 modelled with anatomical correctness, 
 and, in the movements of the game, they 
 form very beautiful groups, and impart to 
 it an additional interest. 
 
 R. R. 
 
 A Lesson on the Game. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 A few evenings ago, my friend Jamie- 
 son called at my chambers to play a 
 game of chess. He has taste in the fine 
 arts, as well as skill in the game, and I 
 produced a set of Flaxman's chess-men, 
 by Wedgewood, which I deem it good for- 
 tune to possess, and which I think must 
 be the pieces alluded to in the Year 
 Book, p. 271. 
 
 We had just concluded a game, and were 
 admiring the beauty of the bishop, when 
 a card was brought to my friend. " Tis 
 from a country client," said he, "I must 
 attend to him." " You can see him in 
 the next room," I replied, " and in the 
 mean time I will endeavour to amuse my- 
 self with one of Carrera's situations *' 
 Jamieson retired, and I was soon deep in 
 the study of the sixteenth problem. With 
 the assistance of pen and paper to note 
 my moves, I was enabled to master it 
 without reference to the printed solution ; 
 and, in expectation of ray opponent's re- 
 turn, I arranged the pieces on the board 
 for a fresh game. Upon raising my eyes, 
 I was surprised to find my fiiend's chair 
 occupied by a very quaint looking person, 
 
 whose style of dress reminded me of 
 Vandyk's picture of the earl of Arundel, 
 only that my visitor's garments did not ap- 
 pear to have been made with quite so 
 much care as that nobleihan's are repre- 
 sented to have been. 
 
 I can hardly describe my sensations ; 
 but they were not those of fear. I look- 
 ed upon a manly brow, illumined by a 
 clear blue eye, and, although the general 
 expression of the face was as I have before 
 termed quaint, the smile that played over 
 the features was highly characteristic of 
 benevolence. Yet I was uneasy ; for I 
 felt myself in the presence of an un- 
 earthly being, and anxiously waited for 
 him to communicate the object of his 
 visit. 
 
 " My name," said the unknown, " is 
 not strange to you : I am Don Pietro 
 de Carrera; and I have been so much 
 pleased with the patient attention which 
 you have bestowed upon that problem, 
 that, if you will listen to me, I will teach 
 you a lesson on the game which you may 
 find of great service in your path through 
 life." 
 
 I bowed, and, as stenography is one of 
 the arts I have studied professionally, I in- 
 stinctively took up the pen I had jpst 
 used. I was enabled to write every word 
 that fell from his lips. This circumstance 
 now appears to me to be very extraordi- 
 nary. The sounds he uttered were in a 
 strange language — it must have been the 
 spirituality of his communication which 
 went direct to my understanding. 
 
 Carrera resumed — " From the earliest 
 age of civilized society, the game of chess 
 has been considered a study which would 
 amply repay the steady application and 
 serious reflection necessary to acquire its 
 perfect knowledge. In my day its pro- 
 fessors were sought after, and entertained 
 as the friends of the great, and the compa- 
 nions of princes — those times are long 
 since past, and I cannot regret, that, with 
 the general diffusion of knowledge, this 
 game, which was once * the science of the 
 few,' is now the never-feiling source of 
 rational enjoyment to the many. The 
 studious, the wise, the good, in every 
 clime have considered it a noble recrea- 
 tion ; following the example of the early 
 masters of its mysteries, they have record- 
 ed for the benefitof posterity the result of 
 tbeir practice ; and the moralist has form- 
 ed from it many a pleasing and instruc- 
 tive allegory. 
 
 " The work before you contains my 
 
563 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 7. 
 
 561 
 
 principles of the game of chess. I in- 
 tended to have given in a. concluding 
 chapter some remarks on the application 
 of those principles to the game of life. — 
 
 " The . Board may be considered the ' 
 field of life, chequered. with good and evil, 
 on which man is to play his game and be 
 rewarded according to his deserts. 
 
 " The Pawns may be looked upon as 
 representing those feelings which are first 
 excited by circumstances, and form barriers 
 to those stronger passions which I would 
 represent by the superior pieces. Happy 
 is the man, who, by care and attention to 
 his pawns, maintains that barrier, behind 
 which he may securely bring his pieces 
 into play. . But in the game of life, as in 
 chess, the players are generally anxious 
 for early distinction ; and, to the impru- 
 dence of suffering the passions to escape 
 from their line of defence, most of the 
 difficulties and dangers that immediately 
 beset them may be traced. 
 
 " The Castle, moving over the board in 
 direct lines, represents that innate sense 
 of justice pervading evei:y human breast, 
 which, however attacked, when properly 
 maintained, cannot be conquered. Strong 
 in its own might, it forms a bulwark of 
 defence at home, while it controls and pu- 
 nishes at a distance the errors of the ad- 
 versary. 
 
 " The Knight, eccentric in his move- 
 ments, but regulated by fixed principles 
 of action, pourtrays that feeling of honor 
 which, deviating from the beaten course, 
 seeks for adventures. He often proves a 
 firm friend in the hour of need; yet his 
 roving propensity sometimes carries him 
 far from succor, and he falls a victim to 
 his chivalrous nature. 
 
 " By the walk of the Bishops may be 
 considered the religious feeling which is 
 continually crossed by the movements of 
 ordinary life : as they never leave the 
 color of the square they start from, they 
 are typical of a firm faith. 
 
 " Ambition may find a representative 
 in the Queen; combining the power of the 
 castle and bishop, she roams over the 
 field ; like the ambitious of the world, she 
 requires great support from the lower 
 pieces, and is frequently cut off when she 
 ventures too boldly to attack. 
 
 " The Xing, only moving one square at 
 a time, while every direction is open to 
 his choice, is highly characteristic of Pru- 
 "*°<^^- He seldom moves unless forced, 
 shelters himself behind, and claims the 
 succor of Justice, Honor, Religion and 
 
 Ambition. The rule which gives the 
 game to the party who deprives the op- 
 ponent's king of the power of motion 
 proves that the inventors of the game, un- 
 like the levellers of the present day, were 
 firm loyalists, and duly impressed with 
 the divinity that ' doth hedge a king.' " 
 
 I here felt a touch on my elbow, and 
 my pen fell from my hand, " Confound it, 
 what a. blot!" I exclaimed; and, as I 
 spoke, I was surprised to see a cloud, , 
 from which issued a most delicious fra-, 
 grance, pass over the face of Carrera. On 
 its clearing away, I discovered the fea- 
 tures of Jamieson. — 
 
 My friend laughed immoderately. "Why 
 Granville," said he, " when I returned, , 
 your candle snuffs were of portentous 
 length ; I trimmed them, and as you did not 
 acknowledge the obligatioii, but continued 
 your writing, I quietly took a cigar ; and 
 have been enjoying, for this half hour, the 
 sight of a man making hieroglyphics in 
 his sleep." — " Hieroglyphics do you term 
 them," I replied, I will send them to 
 friend Hone, and, should he deem them 
 worthy of a page in his Year Book, I 
 hope they may not send any of his readers 
 to steep. 
 
 A. I, 
 March, 1831. 
 
 Writers on Chess — Players at tus 
 Game — Chessmen. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Much learning has been wasted, to very 
 littlp purpose, in tracing the origin of the 
 game of chess : it has been referred by 
 some to the jrerrtia, and by others to the 
 irXivGiov of the Greeks. Some have con- 
 sidered it to bear a resemblance to the 
 Latrunculus, some to the Alveus, of the 
 Ilomans. Some, again, have believed it 
 to be the invention of the Chinese, 
 and some, of the Hindoos ; but, after all, 
 the question' remains in as much uncer- 
 tainty as at first. It is clear, however, 
 that the Greek and Roman games were 
 games of chance : in chess chance has no 
 part ; and, in so far, the games, as played 
 by the Chinese and Hindoos, from times 
 " beyond which the memory of man reach- 
 eth not," resemble that of the present 
 day ; varying, as they both do, their simi- 
 larity is sufficient to prove that, in essen- 
 tials, they are the same, and, therefore, 
 that the game, as played in Europe, 
 whoever may have been the inventor, was 
 brought from the cast. 
 
565 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 7 
 
 566 
 
 That, even in Europe, the game may 
 boast considerable antiquity, is proved by 
 the existence of a book written by Dacci- 
 esoie, a Dominican friar, so early, accord- 
 ing to Hyde, as 1200. This book is the 
 same as that translated by Caxton, from 
 an edition published about the year 1460, 
 in French, and now so rare; it having 
 been amongst the first, if not the very 
 first work printed by him on the introduc- 
 tion of the art into this country. The 
 next in date, it having been publish- 
 ed in the year 1512, is that by Dami- 
 ano, a Portuguese, whose work was 
 originally written in Spanish and Italian ; 
 it consists of the openings of the games,' 
 known by players as "the Giuoco Piano," 
 and " the Queens pawn two;" and, although 
 nearly four hundred years old, is consi- 
 dered a guide to the best play of that 
 particular opening, and is the root from 
 whidh the variations of the anonymous 
 Modenese, LoUi, Dal Rio, &c., have been 
 made to spring. The characters of his 
 pieces in the Diagrams, containing " Ends 
 of Games," or Problems difficult of solu- 
 tion, which conclude the volume, are so 
 singular and obsolete in form as scarcely 
 to be intelligible without the text ; it is 
 proper, however, to observe that these 
 positions are from a still earlier work, by 
 Lucena, printed at Salamanca, about the 
 year 1495, which work is exceedingly 
 scarce, and contains other positions than 
 those given by Damiano ; and it may not 
 improbably be surmised that even Lucena 
 had taken his positions from those by 
 Vicent, published in the Catalan language, 
 of a date, it is conjectured, somewhat 
 earlier still. 
 
 A knowledge of the forms and names 
 of pieces, as given in the above work, by 
 Dacciesole, six hundred years ago, may 
 not be uninteresting here. The king and 
 queen alone possess the characters of 
 our pieces ; his alfin, or bishop, is a law- 
 yer, seated with a book outspread on his 
 knees ; and the distinction is drawn, that 
 he on the white is of civil, and he of the 
 black of criminal law. The knights are 
 on horseback, in full armour. The rooks 
 are men on horseback, but unarmed. The 
 king's rook's pawn is a husbandman, with 
 billhook in hand, and a pruning knife in 
 his girdle. The knight's pawn is a smith, 
 with hammer and trowel. His bishop's 
 pawn is armed with a pair of shears and 
 a knife, with an ink-horn at his button- 
 hole, and a pen behind his ear. His own 
 pawn is known by a wand-measure and 
 
 scale, and by a purse of gold. His 
 queen's pawn is seated with a book in 
 one hand, and a phial in the other,— his 
 girdle being furnished with divers surgical 
 instruments. His queen's bishop's pawn 
 bears in one hand a glass of wine, in the 
 other a loaf, and at his girdle is suspended 
 a bunch of keys. His queen's knight's 
 pawn carries keys and compasses, and an 
 open purse. And the queen's rook's pawn, 
 with dishevelled hair, and in rags, displays 
 four dice in one hand, and a crust of bread 
 in the other ; a bag being suspended from 
 his shoulder. All which, Caxton, in his 
 translation, has thus pithily defined :— 
 
 JLalmtaa, aria tiltnge ot tte ert^e. 
 Smsttes, mi ai^et isttiM in sron anlr 
 
 metals. 
 JBi-ajers aitU miftetB of clotft, anlr iwta= 
 
 vies, 
 ^aretaunte attir cj^atingers. 
 Vflisitsent arils ctrurgiens anH apote^ 
 
 cartes. 
 Cabernets anii tios'elers. 
 OErattres of tte etttes, ards tollers, anlr 
 
 eiistoiners. 
 KitiaunjB, plaeers at Irgse, auJr t^e 
 
 messagers. 
 
 It would, however, appear that the 
 chess-boards of former times were on a 
 much more extended scale than those of 
 our era. Mention is made, by Twiss, of 
 the remains of a set of pieces belonging 
 to Charlemagne, in the eighth century, 
 which he had seen at St. Denys ; of these 
 fifteen of the pieces, and one pawn only, 
 were remaining, the latter six inches in 
 height, representing a dwarf; but, of the 
 former, excepting only the king, who was 
 on a throne eight inches square at its base, 
 and stood a foot high, he professes himself 
 incapable of giving any description. It 
 docs not appear that any one has seen 
 these pieces since his time, so that, pro- 
 bably, they have been lost or destroyed 
 amidst the convulsions of the latter part 
 of the last century. Those used by prince 
 Eugene, and seen by Philidor, at Rotter- 
 dam, were three inches in height, and of 
 solid silver, chased, no ways differing in 
 color, but represented in the costumes of 
 the European and Asiatic soldiery. A 
 splendid set, even as works of art, were 
 also in the possession of the celebrated 
 Van der Werf, who had himself carved 
 them, in box and ebony; and they are 
 said to have supplied him with the occu- 
 pation of his entire leisure during eighteen ■ 
 years. They were all busts^ carved on 
 pedestals; the kings with lions' skins 
 
.■;67 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— MAY 7. 
 
 568 
 
 thiown over their shoulders, the paws 
 tFOSsing in front; the bishops with fools' 
 caps and bells ; the knights were horses' 
 heads with flowing manes ; and the pawns, 
 eight whites, and eight negroes, of various 
 expressions and ages. But, perhaps, the 
 most splendid set on record was the one 
 brought to this country for the purpose of 
 sale, some years since ; they were all of 
 the purest red and white cornelian ; — but 
 the price demanded was so large, that it 
 is not believed that they met with any 
 purchaser here : indeed, however fitted 
 for the cabinet, or the boudoir, as orna- 
 ments or accessaries, chessmen so splendid 
 can be of little use to the real player ; 
 and it has been generally observed of those 
 who had expended considerable sums in 
 the purchase of such, that, after the 
 novelty had worn off, they have reverted 
 with satisfaction, for all practical purposes, 
 to their old, !:ubstantial, black and white, 
 wooden ones. 
 
 Various attempts have been made by 
 the learned — amongst whom Sir William 
 Jones, and the late Mr. Christie, are most 
 conspicuous — to assimilate the names of 
 oui^ pieces with those used in the east, 
 without, however, much success. Caprice 
 may, perhaps, have influenced the chris- 
 tening them, as much as intention ; and 
 it can matter very little, so long as their 
 powers are universally retained. Con- 
 nected with this sub'ect, however, it does 
 appear a little singular that the sober and 
 religious English should, have named the 
 fou — the fool, or madman — a; bishop; 
 whilst they have preserved the names of 
 the king, the queen, the knight, and the 
 foot-soldier, or pawn. To reconcile some 
 apparent absurdities in this nomenclature, 
 a small tract appeared some thirty years 
 since, — acknowledged, it is understood, 
 by the painstaking player known as the 
 anonymous editor of Philidor, — proposing 
 to substitute for the queen, minister ; for 
 the pawn, commoner, &c., &c. ; and to 
 entitle the operation called " castling," 
 " closeting," &c. This proposal, however, 
 like all others that have been ostensibly 
 made for varying the game, or its terms, 
 from established usages, met with no en- 
 couragement; and now, like the same 
 gentleman's " scale of powers,'' is only re- 
 ferred to for the purpose of a passing smile. 
 It does not appear that, until the com- 
 mencement of the last century, any consi- 
 derable skill in the game was cultivated 
 in England, whilst, amongst the Italians, 
 its refinements had been most elaborately 
 analysed, and its professors were establish- 
 
 ing to themselves a fame which the skill 
 of players of a more recent date has in 
 vain attempted to rival. In confirmation 
 of this fact, the best players of the present 
 century have done little more to elucidate 
 the game than to give translations, occa- 
 sionally, from the most esteemed amongst 
 them. In this way have appeared, in an 
 English dress, the works of Damiano, 
 Salvio, Gianutio, Buy Lopez, &c. &c., 
 by Sarratt ; and since, the very accurate 
 and valuable translations by Lewis, of 
 Greco, Carrera, &c., &c.; and that by 
 Bingham, of Dal Hio, the most instructive, 
 perhaps, of all ; though it were certainly 
 to be wished that it had been edited by a 
 more experienced player. Up to the time 
 of the appearance of these translations, 
 the only standard work on the game, in 
 England, was that by Philidor; but, treat- 
 ing on little more than one opening, lie 
 may perhaps be said to have fettered, 
 rather than expanded, the genius of the 
 English student, inasmuch as, professing 
 as it does to be an analysis of the game, 
 players were led to imagine all openings 
 not recognized by him as bad play ; and 
 thus some of the most instructive, if by 
 chance they occurred, were neglected or 
 despised. Still, however, the knowledge 
 was scattered over many volumes ; a 
 great portion of it was also much too re- 
 fined for the mere student : and a work 
 that should convey just as much of instruc- 
 tion as he would l)e able to appreciate, 
 has always been a desideratum. Players 
 in this country will therefore have seen, 
 with much satisfaction, the first portion of 
 a work by Mr. Lewis, — to whose perse- 
 verance the game already owes so much, 
 — which is intended to contain every 
 information requisite for the perfect de- 
 velopment of the pieces in all the usual 
 openings. This work is preceded by a 
 a few apt, but general, rules of great 
 value; and, in the illustration of "the 
 Bishops close game," " the Kings Knight's 
 Game," "the Queen's Bishops pawns 
 game," and of " the Kings Gambit," so 
 far as in the three first parts it has gone, 
 leaves nothing to be desired. 
 
 Whilst it may be, however, doubted, 
 whether the best players of late years have 
 not been found in France, the question is 
 one of comparative individual strength, 
 that has never been tried ; in number, 
 the French certainly exceed us, and so, 
 perhaps, of the generation that has passed 
 away ; for, without natiting Philidor, in 
 whose constitution \hefaux briltant ap- 
 pears to have been at least as evident as 
 
569 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 7. 
 
 570 
 
 the profound, the names of the marquis 
 de Grosminy, the chevalier de Feron, the 
 chevalierdu Son, Verdoni, and de Lagalle, 
 amongst the players of the last century, 
 and Du Bourblanc, Le Preton, and La 
 Bourdonnaye, of this, are a host, against 
 which we have only to oppose Sarratt, 
 and Lewis, — beyond dispute the two 
 ablest players that England has produced. 
 
 Notwithstanding, the game is perhaps 
 played more generally by the Germans, 
 than in either of the nations to which we 
 have referred, eminently suited as it is to 
 their peculiar temperament — wary, pro- 
 found, cautious, and persevering — and, 
 accordingly, that country has produced 
 many fine players. 
 
 A singular instance of the estimation 
 in which it has been heretofore held by 
 thJm occurs in a work written by Silber- 
 schmidt, entitled " Chess Secrets," and re- 
 ferred to by Dr. Netto, in one lately 
 published by him ; by which it appears 
 that a certain dignitary of the. church of 
 Halberstadt, in Prussia, . had been, for 
 some offence, banished from that city to 
 the village of Stroebeck, when, for the 
 amusement and occupation of his leisure, 
 he took some pains to instruct the natives 
 in the game of chess ; finding apt scholars, 
 and gratified with the opportunity of 
 "improving their manners and morals," 
 he took much pains to render them credit- 
 able players, and, subsequently, when, 
 after his recal, he became bishop of Hal- 
 berstadt, he conferred certain municipal 
 privileges on the village of his banish- 
 ment, of wliich, according to another 
 writer, they were to be deprived, if beaten 
 at chess ; but, in addition, he bestowed a 
 more valuable benefit in the erection and 
 endowment of a free-school, which still 
 exists,and inwhich the game must be taught. 
 Thefameof their skill attracted thither, in 
 the year 1651, Frederick William, of 
 Brandenburg, who, in return for the amuse- 
 ment they had afforded him, and in token 
 of the estimation in which he held their 
 play, presented to them a magnificent 
 carved chess-board, having on its obverse 
 a table for the game of the "Courier," toge- 
 ther with two sets of chessmen, the one 
 of ivory, but the other of silver, — one 
 half of the latter being gilt, by way of 
 distinction: this set, however, it is 
 supposed, the churchmen of Halberstadt 
 considered too valuable for a paltry vil- 
 lage,— accordingly, they were borrowed 
 by them, and never returned. The neces- 
 sity of protecting themselves from the 
 
 impertinences of strangers, induces the in- 
 habitants to decline playing, unless for 
 money, and, accordingly, many persons 
 have lost to them. It appears, however, 
 that they have not been always equally for- 
 tunate ; for, on a certain occasion, a friend 
 of Silberschmidt, one N. N., indulging the 
 knight errantry of a true chess-player, 
 challenged their provost, and best players, 
 and, after a contest of considerable dura- 
 tion, at the sign of the Chess-board and 
 Marble, came off victorious. Now, it was 
 natural that the aforesaid N. N. should be 
 desirous of carrying off some trophy, and 
 he therefore applied for a certificate ; it 
 was given, stating simply the fact ; and, 
 " alas, to confess," such is the term, that 
 N. N. " had carried off the victory." 
 This important document was signed and 
 sealed with the corporation seal : but no 
 sooner had he obtained it than, probably 
 in alarm for their privileges, they were de- 
 sirous of withdrawing it, and no intreaties 
 were at first spared to recover possession 
 of it. Ending these of no avail, they 
 offered money, increasing their estimate 
 of its value, until, had he been so dis- 
 posed, he might have realized to very consi- 
 derable advantage. N. N., however, 
 valued his honor too highly, and, not 
 content with inflexibly bearing his certifi- 
 cate away, he has rather ungallantly 
 published it to the world — " alas," to the 
 utter discomfiture of the men of Strtebeck. 
 
 Meanwhile, the various works on art 
 and science, the encyclopaedias, &c., pro- 
 fessing to give instruction, and to contain 
 knowledge on all matters within the circle 
 of human attainment, contained no refer- 
 ence to the abundant works in Italian, 
 German, &c., fiom which real information 
 on the game of chess might have been 
 acquired ; but, contenting themselves with 
 an elaborate rifacimento of Dr. Hyde's 
 researches, and the addition of a few bald 
 anecdotes from the French Encyclope- 
 distes, they contrived to cover a certain 
 portion of space, without affording, to 
 such as might consult them, one.senjence 
 of real instruction or useful knowledge. 
 
 It has been a question amongst players 
 how far the capacity for condncting a game 
 without seeing the board — the moves of the 
 pieces being indicated by a third person — 
 should be admitted as evidenceofasuperior, 
 or first rate talent for the game Without 
 affecting to decide that question, it is not 
 to be doubted that players of a very infe- 
 rior grade have frequently excelled in this 
 particular exhibition of memorial tenacity, 
 
57i 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 7. 
 
 572 
 
 whilst it is on record that many ancient 
 players,— Salvo, Paolo Boi, Zerone, Me- 
 dranoj Ruy^Lopez, &c. &c., notoriously 
 first rate, in their day, played under such 
 restrictions up to within nearly a pawn of 
 their strength ; that Saochieri could play 
 equally well four games at f» t-JBi 
 although Philidor's vanity led hin. 1.0 i.:nk 
 the talent so highly, that, in his ostenta- 
 tious notice of some of the games played 
 by him, at Parsloes, &c;, against three 
 adversaries at a time, he prefaces il by an 
 apology for a statement which he professes 
 to give " lest posterity should not credit 
 the' possibility of the fact." Philidor 
 probably did not, any more than other 
 great men, calculate on the much slandered 
 " march of intellect," or that it would 
 take chess in its course. He either did 
 not know, or never supposed that posterity 
 would — the works on the game then con- 
 fined to the libraries of the curious. He 
 was mistaken. The effect has been that 
 an increased love for the game has spread 
 over the country — that clubs have been 
 formed — that coffee houses and divans 
 have been opened for the game — that 
 hundreds play at it where it was scarcely 
 possible, a few years since, to find an 
 adversajy, — and that a liberal education 
 can hardly be said to be complete without 
 a knowledge of this " science" according 
 to Leibnitz, — but, certainly, this most 
 interesting and scientific of all games. 
 March, 1831. R. B. 
 
 ANTiQuirt' OF Chess — Okigih of the 
 
 Queen. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 There are, perhaps, as many countries 
 which lay claim to the honor of {he inven- 
 tion of chess, as there were cities which 
 contended for the birth of Homer. I shall 
 briefly enumerate a few of the numerous 
 inventors of this most rational amusement, 
 and then offer, with all due submission, a 
 mere conjecture of my own. 
 
 (1.) Strutt (in his celebrated work, 
 which has been lately edited by a parti- 
 cular friend to science, and to myself,) 
 informs us that John de Vigney assigned 
 the invention to a Babylonian philosopher 
 -^Xerxes — in the reign of evil Merodach, 
 whose object it was " tp eclaim a wicked 
 king,!' &c. Strutt agrees that " it made 
 its first appearance in Asia." 
 
 (2.) Seneca attributes the origin of the 
 game to Chilo, the Spartan, one of the 
 seven sages of Greece. 
 
 (3.) Sir William Jones has left us a 
 poem entitled " Caissa," the first idea of 
 which was taken from Vida, " in which 
 (says he) the invention of chess is prac- 
 tically ascribed to Mars, though it is 
 certain that tho gare was originally 
 brought from India." 
 
 (4.) Gibbon, treating upon the learning 
 and wisdom of the Brahmins, continues,, 
 " To admonish kings that they are strong 
 only in the strength of their subjects, the 
 same Indians invented the game of chess, 
 which was likewise introduced into Persia 
 under the reign of Nushirvan." 
 
 (5.) Chaucer tells us it was 
 
 " Athalus that made the gante 
 
 First of the chess, so was his name." — 
 And Cornelius Agrippa informs us that 
 Attains, king of Asia, is said to be the 
 inventor of games of chance. 
 
 (6) Peter Texiras is certain it is of 
 Persian origin, inasmuch as the name of 
 every piece is derived from that language. 
 
 (7.) Kennett agrees with those who 
 attribute the invention to Palamedes, 
 prince of Euboea, during the siege of Troy, 
 — an excellent time for becoming a pro- 
 ficient in the game ! 
 
 (8.) Others will give the merit to 
 Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, who is said to 
 have devised the pastime to divert his idle 
 army ; to whom (I imagine) Burton al- 
 ludes when he tells us ' that the game was 
 " invented, some say, by the generall of 
 an army in a famine, to keep souldiers: 
 from mutiny." He gives Bellonius as his 
 authority. 
 
 (9.) The Arabians claim the honqr for 
 their countryman, Sissa, or Sida. And 
 
 (10.) A manuscript in the Harleian 
 Collection pronounces Ulysses to be the 
 inventor. In fact, so many were the 
 competitors for the honor of the discovery, 
 that Herodotus considered it worthy of 
 record, that the Lydians did not lay claim 
 to the merit of the invention f chess. 
 
 Among such a host of coiitending 
 evidence it is impossible for us to decide 
 the question: but we may fairly offei; any 
 conjecture which is founded upon the 
 internal testimony of the game itself. I 
 shall, at any rate, assume the permission 
 of so doing. We must observe in the 
 machinery of the game, that, strangely 
 inconsistent with our ideas of propriety 
 and probability, " the queen"- is the chief 
 character in the contest. She is not 
 merely the soft excitement of the war,— 
 the Helen for whom mighty monarchs 
 will fight and fall; she is not the nigh- 
 
673 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 7- 
 
 574 
 
 minded instigator of hostility, who bids 
 her king go forth with her blessing to the 
 battle : no, she is the active, undaunted, 
 indefatigable leader of the army, — herself 
 a host ! 
 
 This occupation is, certainly, as incon- 
 sistent with the character of an Asiatic 
 princess of the days of yore as with that 
 of a modern belle ; for all history informs 
 us that the eastern queen was no more 
 than the humble slave, and inanimate 
 amusement, of her royal spouse. There 
 is but one oriental lady in the pages of 
 ancient annals who acted the part of the 
 queen of chess, — who fought, and who 
 conquered, — and that lady is Semiramis. 
 To her reign, therefore, do I attribute the 
 invention of chess. It is indisputably of 
 Asiatic origin, and of very great antiquity. 
 The earliest writer upon the subject who 
 appears to have given it any serious con- 
 sideration places its birth (as we have 
 seen above) in Babylon : and, moreover, 
 the institution of the game would, at that 
 particular period, have been not only 
 probable in appearance, but politic in 
 practice. It would have been, during 
 that reign, not only a pleasant amusement, 
 but a piece of most delicate flattery to 
 tiie royal heroism ; it would then have 
 been an entertaining method of teaching 
 her idle subjects that their empress 
 was their lord and their leader, — the 
 gainer of their glory, — the palladium of 
 their prosperity. I can discover no other 
 way of explaining the extraordinary regu- 
 lations of the game. 
 
 The objects, which have been assigned 
 as contemplated by the inventors of chess, 
 appear to me most unsatisfactory. " It was 
 constructed (says one party) for the purpose 
 of teaching a king humility : to show him 
 he is supported solely by the exertions of 
 his subjects." This is true; but it also 
 instructs him that at the king's downfall 
 the whole nation must perish; and it 
 does any thing but teach him to submit 
 to restraint, when it proves that the com- 
 monweal must be ruined when even the 
 king is check'd on all sides. "It was 
 invented (says another exposition) to 
 withdraw the attention of the hungry from 
 the contemplation of their hunger." But 
 starvation has a voice, which, like every 
 other ventriloquism, can be heard both 
 far and near! Montaigne thought so 
 lightly of the interest of the game, that 
 he writes, " I hate and avoid it, because 
 it is not play enough :" and as to the 
 " moral" of the amusement, he declares 
 
 that it produces -all tlie malevolent pas- 
 sions, " and a vehement desire of getting 
 the better in a concern, wherein it were 
 more excusable to be ambitious of being 
 overcome." Burton pronounces it to be 
 « a testy, cholerick game, and very offen- 
 sive to him that loseth the mate." The 
 wife of Ferrand, count of Flanders, 
 allowed her husband to remain in prison, 
 when she could easily have procured his 
 liberation, in consequence of their mutual 
 hatred produced by chess-playing ! And 
 history gives us many other instances of 
 the vindictive feeling which this " moral" 
 pastime generates. Pliny informs us that 
 Numidia Quadratilla used always to send 
 her grandson out of the room when " she 
 used to relax her mind with a game of 
 chess." — And Ovid instructs the lover to 
 be especially particular in allowing his 
 lady-love to win the game : the triumph 
 of his skill might cost him the heart of 
 his indignant antagonist. . , 
 
 It will, probably, be objected to my 
 humble conjecture, " that the queen used 
 not to be the leading piece upon the 
 board ; that the ancient name for that 
 piece was " fers," or " ferce," — which, 
 Hyde says, is obviously derived from the 
 Persian " phez," or " pherzan," a general, 
 or chief counsellor, — a title by which that 
 piece was distinguished in the east : and 
 that must be the original name of the 
 piece, because all the terms of the game 
 were derived from the Persian." To this, 
 I shall briefly reply that I doubt the de- 
 rivation from such a source : and, se- 
 condly, that the piece we call the" queen" 
 has been supposed to be a female, as long 
 as the game has been known in Europe. 
 
 First. It is asserted that the" same 
 terms in the game are \ised by all the 
 world, and that those terms are of Persian 
 origin : for instance " check-mate," which 
 is derived from " sh^k-m^t," — " the king 
 is conquered." To this I must reply, 
 that the French never used that term : 
 their expression — indicative of the po- 
 liteness of the nation.— was " ave,"— ;- 
 " hail," to the king, — aXatin salutation • 
 and the idea of deriving " check" from 
 " shS.k" is too ridiculous to require' fur- 
 ther comment. In the oldest MSS. quoted 
 by Strutt, the names of the men are as 
 English as they are now. The bishop is 
 called " the archer ;" the castle is termed 
 " rook," or " roc ;" and if, indeed, " roc" 
 be a Persian word, signifying (properly) 
 a rock, I think we have a word very much 
 like it in our own language. 
 
575 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MA V T 
 
 576 
 
 ture that the game of chess was invented 
 out of compliment to Semiramis, inas> 
 much as there appears no other way oi 
 accounting for the particular character 
 enacted by *' the queen." 
 
 P. P. Pirps. , 
 March, 1831. • ■ ;./■ 
 
 The Knichts' Leaps. 
 
 Mr. Hone — The subjoined Knights' 
 grand leaps over the whole ChiBss-boar3'> 
 are much at your service for the' Yeur 
 Book. 
 
 Chess Bo^rd Numbered to enable 'the 
 reader to perforin the leaps. 
 
 Secondly. The queen I wilt maintain 
 to have always been considered a lady, 
 whatever her appellation might have been. 
 In the Harleian MSS., where she is called 
 " fers," she is also termed " reyne," and 
 " regina." In the account of the Fanciful 
 Dance, performed before queen Whims, 
 which was neither more nor less than a large 
 game with animate chessmen — (such as, 
 we read in actual history, ttiat John, duke 
 of Austria, and a certain duki of Weimar, 
 were wont to have played in a large hall, 
 purposely chequered black and white, 
 where their servants moved, a-la-chess- 
 men, at their bidding), —Rabelais enu- 
 merates the performers, and calls them 
 " a king, a queen, two archers," &c., and 
 she is characterised, throughout, as acting 
 the part of a lady. Chaucer, in his 
 *' Booke of the Duchesse,'" introduces the 
 sorrowful John of Gaunt, duke of Lan- 
 caster, lamenting the deatti of Blanch, his 
 consort, and makes him complain that he 
 had played at cheis with fortune, when 
 
 '* With her false draughts full diverse 
 She stale on me and tokc my fers." 
 
 Which " fers " evidently means his 
 duchesse; for he continues, that 
 
 " Through that draught 1 have lome 
 My blisse : alas, that I was borne" — 
 
 And now his only wish is to die. ■ ; r-^ — | — — . -^ 
 
 I hope it will be acknowledged tha* 37 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 | 
 
 there is some foundation for my conjee 
 
 Leap 1. From 4 to 21 to 6 to 16 to 31 to 48 to 63 to 53 to 59 to 49 to 43 to 28 
 to 38 to 55 to 61 to 44 to 34 to 17 to 2 to 12 to 22 to 39 to 56 to 62 to 45 to 
 51 to 57 to 42 to 25 to 19 to 36 to 30 to 13 to 7 to 24 to 14 to 8 to 23 to 40 to 
 46 to 29 to 35 to 52 to 58 to 41 to 26 to 9 to 3 to 18 to 1 to ll'to 5 to 15 to 32 
 to 47 to 64 to 54 to 60 to 50 to 33 to 27 to 37 to 20 to 10 to 4. 
 
 Leap 2. From 19 to 4 to 21 to 6 to 16 to 31 to 48 to 63 to 46 to 36 to 30 to 40 
 to 55 to 61 to 51 to 57 to 42 to 25 to 10 to 20 to 35 to 52 to 62 to 56 to 39 to 
 24 to 7 to 13 to 3 to 9 to 26 to 41 to 58 to 43 to 28 to-4S to 60 to SO to 33 to 
 18 to 1 to 11 to 5 to 15 to 32 to 22 to 12 to 2 to 17 to 27 to 37 to 47 to 64 to 
 54 to 44 to 34 to 49 to 59 to 53 to 38 to 23 to 8 to 14 to 29 to 19. 
 
 Leap 3. From 1 to 11 to 17 to 2 to 19 to 9 to 3 to 13 to 7 to 22 to 16 to 6 to 12 
 to 27 to 21 to 4 to 10 to 25 to 42 to 57 to 51 to 61 to 55 to 40 to 23 to 8 to 14 to 
 24 to 39 to 56 to 62 to 52 to 58 to 41 to 26 to 20 to 5 to 15 to 32 to 38 to 48 to 
 63 to 53 to 59 to 49 to 43 to 28 to 34 to 44 to 29 to 35 to 45 to 30 to 36 to 46 to 
 31 to 37 to 47 to 64 to 54 to 60 to 50 to 33 to 18 to 1. 
 
 Leap 4. From 9 to 3 to 20 to 5 to 22 to 16 to 6 to 12 to 2 to 17 to 11 lo 1 to 18 
 to 33 to 27 to 37 to 31 to 46 to 63 to 48 to 54 to 64 to 47 to 53 lo 59 to 49 to 
 34 to 28 to 38 to 32 to 15 to 21 to 4 to 10 to 25 to 35 to 29 to 39 to 56 to 62 to 
 45 to 55 to 61 to 44 to 50 to 60 to 43 to 58 to 52 to 42 to 57 to 51 to 41 to 26 to 
 36 to 30 to 40 to 23 to 8 to 14 to 24 to 7 to 13 to 19 to 9; 
 
 Leap 5. From 25 to 10 to 4 to 14 to 8 to 23 to 29 to 19 to 2 to 17 to 27 to 21 to' 
 31 to 16 to 6 to 12 to 18 to 1 to 11 to 28 to 22 to 32 to 15 to 5 to 20 to 26 to 
 9 to 3 to 13 to 7 to 24 to 30 to 40 to 55 to 61 to 51 to 57 to 42 to 36 to 46 
 to 63 to 48 to 38 to 44 to 34 to 49 to 59 to 53 to 47 to 64 to 54 to 37 to 43 to 
 33 to 50 to 60 to 45 to 39 to 56 to 62 to 52 to 58 to 41 to 35 to 25. 
 
 The leaps may be commenced on any given square 
 
 March 12, 1831. W. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 8 
 
 9 
 
 10 
 
 11 
 
 12 
 
 13 
 
 14 
 
 15 
 
 16 
 
 17 
 
 18 
 
 19 
 
 20 
 
 21 
 
 22 
 
 23 
 
 24 
 
 25 
 
 26 
 
 27 
 
 28 
 
 29 
 
 30 
 
 31 
 
 32 
 
 33 
 
 34 
 
 35 
 
 36 
 
 37 
 
 38 
 
 39 
 
 40 
 
 41 
 
 42 
 
 43 
 
 44 
 
 45 
 
 46 
 
 47 
 
 48 
 
 49 
 
 50 
 
 51 
 
 52 
 
 53 
 
 54 
 
 55 
 
 56 
 
 37 
 
 58 
 
 59 
 
 60 
 
 61 
 
 62 
 
 63 
 
 64 
 
srr 
 
 THE YEArt BOOK._MAy f. 
 
 578 
 
 The Knight's Leaps over the Chf.ss Bo.ved. 
 
 Diagrams of the moves. 
 1 
 
 
 2 
 
 n 
 
 T-'^^^^^Hi^^S| 
 
 
 ^a 
 
 
 
 HEIS 
 
 
 
 HII9 
 
 
 
 ^M 
 
 
 
 Biaa 
 
 
 
 
 Order of 
 
 the movci 
 1 
 
 
 
 so 
 
 19 
 
 48 
 
 1 
 
 52 
 
 3 1 34 
 
 1 
 
 37 
 
 47 
 
 64 1 51 
 
 1 
 
 20 
 
 33 
 
 36 
 
 53 
 
 4 
 
 18 
 
 49 
 
 30 
 
 63 
 
 2 
 
 21 
 
 38 
 
 35 
 
 29 
 
 46 
 
 61 
 
 12 
 
 41 
 
 32 
 
 5 
 
 54 
 
 60 
 
 17 
 
 42 
 
 31 
 
 62 
 
 13 
 
 22 
 
 39 
 
 45 
 
 28 
 
 11 
 
 16 
 
 25 
 
 40 
 
 55 
 
 6 
 
 10 
 
 59 
 
 26 
 
 43 
 
 8 
 
 57 
 
 14 
 
 23 
 
 27 
 
 44 
 
 9 
 
 58 
 
 15 
 
 24 
 
 7 
 
 56 
 
 2 
 
 41 
 
 48 
 
 29 
 
 2 
 
 43 
 
 4 
 
 27 
 
 62 
 
 30 
 
 19 
 
 42 
 
 47 
 
 28 
 
 63 
 
 44 
 
 5 
 
 49 
 18 
 
 40 
 31 
 
 1 
 50 
 
 20 
 35 
 
 3 
 64 
 
 46 
 11 
 
 61 
 6 
 
 26 
 45 
 
 39 
 
 56 
 
 21 
 
 10 
 
 51 
 
 00 
 
 25 
 
 12 
 
 32 
 
 17 
 
 34 
 
 55 
 
 30 
 
 9 
 
 52 
 13 
 
 7 
 24 
 
 57 
 
 38 
 
 15 
 
 22 
 
 59 
 
 54 
 
 16 
 
 33 
 
 58 
 
 37 
 
 14 
 
 23 
 
 8 
 
 53 
 
 3 
 
 1 
 
 4 
 
 7 
 
 16 
 
 37 
 
 12 
 
 9 
 
 26 
 
 6 
 
 17 
 
 2 
 
 13 
 
 8 
 
 27 
 
 38 
 
 tl 
 
 28 
 
 3 
 
 64 
 
 5 
 
 36 
 
 15 
 
 10 
 
 25 
 
 18 
 
 35 
 
 14 
 
 47 
 
 50 
 
 53 
 
 56 
 
 39 
 24 
 
 63 
 
 48 
 
 51 
 
 51 
 
 57 
 
 40 
 
 29 
 
 34 
 
 19 
 
 46 
 
 49- 
 
 52 
 
 55 
 
 58 
 
 41 
 
 45 
 
 62 1 
 
 21 
 
 32 
 
 43 
 
 60 
 
 23 
 
 30 
 
 20 
 
 33 
 
 44 
 
 61 
 
 22 
 
 31 
 
 42 
 
 53 
 
 Vol. I.— 19. 
 
579 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— MAY 7. 
 
 589-, 
 
 Thi: Knight's Leaps over t«e Chesj Board. 
 
 12 
 
 9 
 
 2 
 
 33 
 
 4 
 
 7 
 
 62 
 
 59 
 
 1 
 
 34 
 
 11 
 
 8 
 
 63 
 
 60 
 
 31 
 
 6 
 
 10 
 
 13 
 
 64 
 
 3 
 
 32 
 
 5 
 
 58 
 
 61 
 
 35 
 
 54 
 
 15 
 
 28 
 
 37 
 
 56 
 
 17 
 
 30 
 
 14 
 
 27 
 
 36 
 
 55 
 
 16 
 
 29 
 
 38 
 
 57 
 
 53 
 
 50 
 
 47 
 
 44 
 
 41 
 
 18 
 
 23 
 
 20; 
 
 26 
 
 45 
 
 52 
 
 49 
 
 24 
 
 21 
 
 42 
 
 39 
 
 51 
 
 48 
 
 25 
 
 46 
 
 43 
 
 40 
 
 19 
 
 22 
 
 18 
 
 9 
 
 28 
 
 3 
 
 24 
 
 15 
 
 30 
 
 5 
 
 27 
 
 2- 
 
 19 
 
 16 
 
 29 
 
 4 23 
 
 14 
 
 10 
 
 17 
 
 « 
 
 25 
 
 12 
 
 21 
 
 6 
 
 31 
 
 1 
 
 26 
 
 11 
 
 20 
 
 7 
 
 32 
 
 13 
 
 22 
 
 54 
 
 45 
 
 64 
 
 39 
 
 52 
 
 43 
 
 » 
 
 33 
 
 63 
 
 38v 
 
 53 
 
 44 
 
 57 
 
 40 49 
 
 42 
 
 46 
 
 55 
 
 36 
 
 61 
 
 48 
 
 51 
 
 34 
 
 59 
 
 37 
 
 62 
 
 47 
 
 56 
 
 35 
 
 60 
 
 41 
 
 50 
 
 VARIOUS COMMUNICATIONS ON CHESS. 
 
 i ' Chess Anecdotes, &c. 
 
 (For the Year Book.) 
 , This most ingenious and fascinating 
 game is of very great antiquity, and, per- 
 haps, there is no game that can boast so 
 general a study and practice ; for, though 
 various games on cards may be more 
 commonly pursued in some parts of Eu- 
 rope, chess is not only an object of exten- 
 sive attention in Europe, but played with 
 incomparably more frequency in Asia. 
 
 Al Amin, khalif of Bhagdat, was earn- 
 estly employed at this game when his 
 capital residence was on the point of 
 being taken by assault. Tamerlane the 
 Great is recorded to have been engaged at 
 cness ourmg the decisive battle between 
 
 him andBajazet. King John of England . 
 insisted upon concluding his game before 
 he gave an audience to the deputies from 
 Roouen, coming to apprize him that their 
 city was besieged. 
 
 King James I. styled this gameaphilosc- 
 phic folly. His son,Charle8 1., was at chess 
 when toid that the Scots had finally de- 
 termined upon selling him to the English ; 
 and he did not seem any way discomposed, 
 but coolly continued his game. Charles 
 XII., of Sweden, when surrounded, in a 
 house of Bender, by the Turks, barricaded 
 the premises, and then coolly set down fo. 
 chess : this prince always used the king 
 more than any other piece, and thereby 
 lost every game ; not perceiving thatlthe 
 king, although the most considerable of 
 
d81 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY t. 
 
 «62 
 
 all, is impotfint, either to attack his ene- 
 mies or to defend himself, without the 
 assistance of his people; 
 
 The game is said to have been invented 
 by the wife of Kavan, king of Lanca 
 (Ceylon),' in order to amuse him with an 
 image of war (Jield war, I suppose), while 
 his metropolis • was closely besieged by 
 Kama, in the second age of the world. 
 According to sir William Jones's Chrono- 
 logy of the Hindoos, Kama appeared on 
 earth 3800 years ago. 
 
 The Chinese draw a river on the chess- 
 board, but they have no piece representing 
 a ship, which the Hindoos have, and which 
 has the power of a modern bishop. The 
 Chinese, instead of a ship, use a chariot. 
 
 The Chinese call this game choke-choo- 
 hong-ki (the play of the science of war). 
 The Burmhan name for chess is chit-tha- 
 reen, a term applied by them either to a 
 generalissimo, or warfare; an etymolo- 
 gist might perhaps trace it as a corruption 
 of the Sanscrit cha-tur-anga (the four 
 angas, or members, of an army). The 
 Persians' game and table are both called 
 thatrang, or, more commonly, shutrung. 
 
 The piece we call the queen, the hon. 
 Daines Harrington derives from the 
 Persian pherx, or general, and exposes the 
 absurdity of calling this piece a queen, 
 by asking how we are to metamorphose a 
 fbot soldier, or pawn, into a queen, as 
 admitted in the English game. The 
 blunder appears to have arisen from 
 French gallantry. Vierge, in French, is 
 vU-go ; and, consorting with the king, they, 
 by a very natural transition, made their 
 virgin a queen. 
 
 ■ The bishop (formerly^, an elephant), 
 the knight (originally aswa, horse), the 
 rooks (at first rai'haan, armed chariot, or 
 rookh, a hero), and the pawn (from peon, 
 an attendant), are the pieces which, with 
 the king and queen, are played with in 
 European games. 
 
 C. J. Hampton. 
 
 March 2, 1831. 
 
 Chess Memoranda. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 ' The learned Hyde has undertaken to 
 show, ii-om undoubted authorities, that 
 chess was first invented in India, and 
 passed from thence to Persia, before the 
 year of Christ 576, and from Persia to 
 Arabia. 
 
 Sir William Jones is of the same opi- 
 nion. He says, " If evidence were required 
 to prove this fact, we may be satisfied 
 
 with the testimony of the Persians, who, 
 though as much inclined as other natiotis 
 to appropriate the ingenious inventions of 
 foreign people, unanimously agree that 
 the game was imported from the west of 
 India, in the sixth century of our aera." 
 
 The honorable Daines Barrington, in 
 his " Historical Disquisition on the gaine 
 of Chess,* asserts and maintains the claim 
 of the Chinese as_ inventors. Du Halde 
 cites a Chinese treatise, by which it ap- 
 pears that it is the favorite game of that 
 country, and a Chinese MS. is in exist- 
 ence, which relates that, 379 years after 
 the time of Confucius, or 1965 years 
 ago. Hung Cochu, king of Kian^an, sent 
 an expedition into the Shense country, 
 voider the command of a mandarin, called 
 Hansing, to conquer it. After one suc- 
 cessful campaign, the soldiers were put 
 into winter quarters, where, finding the 
 weather much colder than they had been 
 accustomed to, and being also deprived 
 of their wives and families, the army in 
 general became clamorous to return home. 
 Hansung, upon this, revolved in his mind . 
 the bad consequences of complying with 
 their wishes. The necessity of soothing- 
 his tro'ops, and reconciling, them to their 
 condition, in order to complete his oper- 
 ations in the following year, appeared 
 urgent, and therefore, afler much consi- 
 dieration, he invented the game of chess, 
 as well to amuse h\s men in their vacant 
 hours, as to inflame their military ardor, 
 the game being wholly founded on the 
 principles of war. The stratagem suc- 
 ceeded. The soldiers forgot, in their 
 mimic contests, the inconveniences of 
 their post. In the spring the general 
 took the field again, and in a few mouths 
 added the rich country of Shense to the 
 kingdom of Kiangnan, by the defeat and 
 capture of its king, Choupayuen. On 
 this conquest Hung Cochu assumed the 
 title of emperor, and Choupayuen slew 
 himself. 
 
 Of the European nations the Italians' 
 were the first who became acquainted 
 with this ingenious game, which was 
 probably introduced among them by the 
 first crusaders, who, before the destruction 
 of the eastern empire, often remained for 
 some time at Constantinople. 
 
 Hyde supposes that chess was first 
 known in England about the time of the 
 conquest, because the court of Exchequer 
 
 * Archslogia, jx 
 
 V«, 
 
S83 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 7. 584 
 
 was then first established ; but we find in " The draught of the kyng, and how 
 
 Gale's edition of Hist. Ramsieins (c. 85) he meuethhim in theeschequer.Ca. ii 
 
 that, when bishop OLtheric obtained ad- " Of the meuyng of the quene, and 
 
 mission to Canute the great, upon some howsheyssneth outofher place.Ca. iil 
 
 urgent business, about midnight, he found " Of the yssue of the alphyns. Ca. . iiii 
 
 the king and his courtiers engaged at play, " Of the meuyng of the knyghtes. Ca. v 
 
 some at dice, and others at chesi. From '' Of the yssue of the rookis, and of 
 
 Hist. Olai Magni (p. 572), we learn that her progresse. Ca. ...... vi 
 
 when a young nobleman applied for per- " Of thyssue of the comyn peple, 
 
 mission to pay his addresses to his daugh- whom the pawnes represente. Ca. vii 
 
 ter, the parent commonly made a trial of " Of the cpilogacion, and recapitula- 
 
 his temper by playing with him at dice cion of thys book. Ca. . . . viil," 
 
 or chess, before he gave him an answer. The book ends with these words : — " And 
 
 From the treatise entitled " Ye game by this maner it happend that the kyng, 
 
 yt Chesse," and printed by Caxton, in that tofore tyme had ben vyctojis, and 
 
 1474, it appears that this game was not disordynate in his lyuyng, was made iust 
 
 imcommon during the reign of Edward and vertuoiis, debonayr, gracious, and ful 
 
 IV. The mention, and especially the of vertues vnto all peple. And a man 
 
 extreme rarity, of this book, may excuse that lyuyth in thys world wythout vertues, 
 
 the following extract from it. — lyueth not as man, but as a beste. Thenne 
 
 « This book is deuyded and departed into '?'^ ^''^'"y, '"^"' "'' "''^^' condicion he be 
 
 four traytyes and partyes *"^' "^^"^y" "^ ''^'^^"' "i"^l"el book redde. 
 
 It rrn. £ , . \, take therbyensaumple to amende hvra. — 
 
 Tlu^ first traytye. E^pH^jt^ ' Caxton." This is th'e first 
 
 How the play of chesse was fyrst book that was 'ever printed in England. 
 
 founden,andvnder what kyng. Cap. i It is certain that chess was a fashion- 
 
 " Who fonde first the play of the able amusemeat in most houses of rank, 
 
 chesse. Ca il in the time of Richard III. Elizabeth 
 
 " Wherefore the play was fonden was a chess player, and Charles the Mar- 
 aud maad. Ca . iii tyr is supposed to have been a player at 
 
 " The second traytye. this game, though he advises his son 
 
 " The forme of a kyng, his manners against it because it is "■ overwise." 
 
 and estate. Ca * i In France this game seems to have. 
 
 " The fourme and manners of a been known at an earlier period than in 
 
 quene. Ca ii England. Carte avers that, at a chess 
 
 'The condicion and forme of the match between Henry I., before his acces- 
 
 Alphyns. Ca iii sion to the throne of England, and Louis 
 
 " Theordre of chyualrye of knyght- le Gros, son of Philip of France, which 
 
 bode, her oSycers and manners. Ca. iiii took place at Philip's court, in 1087, 
 
 The forme and manner of rookes.Ca. v Louis having ost several games to Henry, 
 
 " The thyrd traytye. and much money, threw the chess men at 
 
 " The offices and maners of labour- Henry's face, who retaliated the affront 
 
 ers. Ca .. . i by flooring Louis with the board, and was 
 
 "Themannerandoffyceofasmyth.Ca. ii proceeding to kill h\ in outright, when his 
 
 " Thoffice of notaries, aduocates, elder brother, Robert, timely interposed. 
 
 scriueners, and drapers or cloth- John of Salisbury relates that, in a battle 
 
 makers. Ca iii between the French and English, in 1 117, 
 
 " The manners of marchauntes and an English knight, seizing the bridle of 
 
 chaungers; Ca iiii Louis leGros, and crying out " iA« teg's 
 
 " The forme of physiciens, leches, taken," Louis struck him to the ground 
 
 spycers, and appotycaryes. Ca. . v with his sword, sayirig, " Ne scais tu pas 
 
 " Of tauerners, hostelers, and vitail- qu' aux echecs on ne prend pas le roy?" 
 
 lers. Ca iiii " Dost thou not know that at chess the 
 
 " Of kepers of townes, receyuers of king is never taken V In the reign of 
 
 custom, and tollenars. Ca. ... vii Charles V., of France, the king, according 
 
 " Of messagers, currours, rybauldes, to Froissart, played at this game with the 
 
 and players at the dyse. Ca. , . viii duke of Burgundy. 
 
 " The fourth traytye. It has been shown that this game was 
 
 " Of the chesse-borde in genere, how popular among the English, before- the 
 
 it is made. Ca i introduction of cards; this may account 
 
58j 
 
 niE YEAU BOOK.— MAY 7. 
 
 58S 
 
 for the " chocquers" placed at the doors 
 of public houses, which might have ori- 
 ginally been intended to advertise the peo- 
 ple that their favorite amusement could be 
 enjoyed within. Brand, however, is of a 
 different opinion; "the citecguers,'' saith 
 he, " were originally intended, I should 
 suppose, for a kind of draught-board, 
 called tables, and showed that there that 
 game might be played. From their color, 
 which was red, and the similarity to a 
 lattice, it was corruptly called the red 
 lettuce, which word is frequently used by 
 ancient writers to signify an ale-house." 
 
 These necessarily hasty and imperfect 
 observations may conclude with honest 
 Caxton's " Description of the Pieces and 
 Pawns," as it stands with its modernised 
 autography, in the Rev. T. Frogual Dib- 
 din's " Typographical Antiquities." 
 ''Description of the Pieces. 
 " The Kino must be thus made : for he 
 must set in a chair clothed in purple, 
 crowned on his head ; in his right hand 
 a sceptre, in his left hand an apple of 
 gold." 
 
 " Thus ought The Queen to be made : 
 she Ought to be a feir lady, sitting in a 
 ehair, and crowned with a crown on her 
 head, and clad with a cloth of gold, and a 
 mantle above furred with ermine ; and 
 she should sit on the left side of the King, 
 for the amplections and embracings of 
 her husband." 
 
 " The Alphyns For Bishops] ought to 
 he made and formed in manner of judges 
 sitting in a chair, with a book open before 
 their eyes ; and that is because that some 
 causes be criminal, and some civil." 
 
 " The Knight ought to be made all 
 armed upon an horse, in such wise that 
 he have an helm on his head, and a spea 
 in his right hand, and covered with his 
 shield, a sword and a mace in his left side ; 
 clad with an hawberk, and plates before 
 his breast, leg-harness on his legs, spurs 
 on his heels, on his hands his gauntlet, his 
 horse well broken and taught, and apt to 
 battle, and covered with arms." 
 
 " The Kooks, which be vicars andl egates 
 to the King, ought to be made like a knight 
 upon a horse, and a mantel and hood 
 furred with menem/er, holding a staff in 
 his hand." 
 
 "Description of Pawns. 
 " The first Pawn that is in the play of 
 the chess, signi6eth a man of the Common 
 People, for they be all called piesons ; that 
 is as much as to S3.y, footmen. And then 
 we will begin at the pawn which standeth 
 
 before the rook on the right side of the 
 King, for as much as this pawn apper- 
 taineth to serve the vicar or lieutenant of 
 the King, and other officers under him, of 
 necessaries of victual. And this manner 
 of people is figured and ought to be made 
 in the form and shape of a man, holding 
 in his right hand a spade or shovel, and a 
 rod in the left hand. The spade or shovel 
 is to delve and labour therewith the earth, 
 and the rod is to drive and conduct withal 
 the beasts unto her pasture. Also, he 
 ought to have on his girdle a crooked 
 hatchet for to cut off the superfluities of 
 the vines and trees." 
 
 " The second Pawn, that standeth before 
 the knight on the right side of the King, 
 hath the form and figure of a man as a 
 Smith, and that is reason ; for it apper- 
 taineth to the knight to have bridles, sad- 
 dles, spurs, and many other things made 
 by the hands of smiths ; and [he] ought 
 to hold a hammer in his right hand, and 
 in his left hand a dolabre ; and he ought to 
 have on his girdle a trowel." 
 
 " The third Pawn, which is set before 
 the Alphyn on the right side, ought to be 
 figured as a clerk, and it is reason that he 
 should be so (here the reasons, not very 
 interesting ones, are specified); and this 
 pawn ought to be made and figured in this 
 manner: he must be made like a man that 
 holdeth in his right hand a pair of shears, 
 or forcetis (forceps), and in the left a 
 great knife, and on his girdle a penner and 
 inkhorn,and on his ear apento write with.'' 
 " The fourth Pawn is set before the 
 King, and is formed in the form of a 
 man holding in his right hand a balance, 
 and the weight in the left hand, and before 
 him a table, and at his girdle a purse full 
 of money, ready for to give to them that 
 require it; and by this people be signified 
 the merchants of c\oth, linen, woollen, and 
 of all other merchandizes." 
 • " The fifth Pawn, that is set before the 
 Queen signifieth the physician, spicer, and 
 apothecary, and is formed in the figure of 
 a man ; and he is set in the chair as a 
 a master, and holdeth in his right hand a 
 book ; and an ample, or a box with oint- 
 ment in his left hand ; and at his girdle 
 his instruments of iron and of silver, for 
 to make incisions, and to search wounds 
 and hurts, and to cut apostumes." 
 
 " The sixth Pawn, which standeth before 
 the Alphyn on the left side, is made in thii 
 form ; for it is a man that hath the righ, 
 hand stretched out as to call men, ana 
 holdeth in his left hand a loaf of bread, 
 
587 
 
 ■ THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 7. 
 
 588 
 
 and a cup of wine ; and on his girdle 
 hanging a bundle of keys ; and thus re- 
 sembleth the taveniers, hostlers, and sellers 
 of victual." 
 
 The seventh Pawn. " The guards and 
 keepers of cities he signified by the seventh 
 Pawn, which standeth on the left side 
 before the knight, and is formed in the 
 semblance of a man holding in his right 
 hand great keys, and in his left a pot and 
 an ell fpr to measure with, and ought to 
 have on his girdle a purse open." 
 
 The eighth Pawn. « The ribalds, 
 players at dice, and the messengers and 
 Couriers ought to be set before the rook, 
 for it appertaineth to the rook, which is 
 the vicar of the King, to have men con- 
 veuable (convenient) for to run here and 
 there to enquire and espy the places and 
 cities that might be contrary to the king. 
 And this Pawn that representeth this 
 people ought to be formed in this manner : 
 he must have the form of a man that hath 
 long heeris (hairs), and black, and holdeth 
 in his right hand a little money, and in 
 his left hand three dice, and about him a 
 a cord instead of a girdle, and ought to 
 have a box full of letters." 
 
 The following are a few additional 
 anecdotes and remarks : — 
 
 Dr. Robertson relates in his History of 
 Charles V. that John Frederic, elector of 
 Saxony, having been taken prisoner by 
 Charles, was condemned to death. The 
 decree was intimated to him while at 
 chess with Ernest of Brunswic, his fellow 
 prisoner. But, a short pause, and making 
 some reflection on the irregularity and 
 injustice of the emperor's proceedings, he 
 turned to his antagonist, whom he chal- 
 lenged to finish the game. He played 
 with his us\ial ingenuity and attention; 
 and, having beat Ernest, expressed all the 
 satisfaction which is commonly felt on 
 gaining such victories. He was not, how- 
 ever, put to death, but set at liberty after 
 five years' confinement. 
 
 In the chronicle of the Moorish kings 
 of Graneda we find it related, that, in 
 1396, Mehemed Balba seized upon the 
 cvown, in prejudice of his elder brother, 
 and passed his life in one continual round 
 of disasters. His wars with Castile were 
 invariably unsuccessful ; and his death 
 was occasioned by a poisoned vest. Find- 
 ing his case desperate, he despatched an 
 otficer to the fort of Salabreno, to put his 
 brother Juzof to death, lest that prince's 
 adherents should form any obstacle to his 
 son's succession. The alcalde found the 
 
 prince playing at chess, with an alfagul or 
 priest. Juzof begged hard for two hours' 
 respite, which was denied him ; at last, 
 with great reluctance, the ofiBcer permitted 
 him to finishthe game, but before it was 
 finished a messenger arrived with the news 
 of the death of Mehemed, and the unani- 
 mous election of Juzof to the crown ^ 
 
 We have a curious anecdote of Ferrandf, 
 Count of Flanders, who having been 
 accustomed to amuse himself at chess with 
 his wife, and being constantly beaten by 
 lier, a mutual hatred took place ; which 
 came to such a height, that, when the count 
 was taken prisoner at the battle of Borrnds, 
 she suflTered him to remain a long time in 
 prison, though she could easily have pro- 
 cured his release. 
 
 The chess-board of Tamerlane was a 
 parallelogram, having eleven sc[uares one 
 way and twelve the other. 
 
 Subjoined is an " Explanation of the 
 position, powers, and moves of the pieces on 
 the Chinese Chess-board, or, Ching Ke, 
 (Royal Game.) 
 
 " As there are nine pieces, instead of 
 eight, to occupy the rear rank, they stand 
 on the lines between and not within the 
 squares. The game is consequently 
 played on the lines. 
 
 "The King, or Chong, stands in the 
 middle line of the row. His moves re- 
 semble those of our King, but are confined 
 to the fortress marked out for him. 
 
 "The two princes, or fou, stand on 
 each side of him, and have equal power 
 and limits, 
 
 " The mandarins, or tchong, answer to 
 our bishops, and have the same moves, 
 except that they cannot cross the water, 
 or white space in the middle of the board, 
 to annoy the enemy, but stand on the 
 defensive. 
 
 " The Knights, or rather-horses, called 
 mai, stand and move like ours in every 
 respect. 
 
 ' The war-chariots, or tehfe, resemble 
 our rooks or castles. 
 
 " The rocket-boys, or pao, are pieces 
 whose motions and powers are unknown 
 to us. They act with the direction of a 
 rocket, and can take none of their adver- 
 sary's men that have not a piece or pawn 
 intervening. To defend your men from 
 this attack it is necessary to open the line 
 between either to, take off the check on 
 the King, or to save a man from being cap- 
 tured by the pao. Their operation is, other- 
 wise, like that of a rook. Their stations 
 are marked between the pieces and pawns. 
 
t89 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 7. 
 
 5d0 
 
 " The five pawns, or ping, make up the 
 number of the men equal to that of our 
 board. Instead of taking sideways, like 
 ours, they have the rook's motion, except 
 that it is limited to one step, and is not 
 retrograde. Another important point, in 
 which the ping differs from ours, is that 
 they continue in statu quo, after reaching 
 their adversary's head quarters. The posts 
 of the ping are marked in front." 
 I remain, &c. 
 
 I. F. R. 
 
 Walworth, March 1831. 
 
 [From the same correspondent.] 
 Mr. Hone, 
 
 Since my la:it I have gathered some 
 farther particulars respecting chess, part 
 of which I met with in a tour through 
 the Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
 And first, with respect its origin, I find 
 quoted from the " Opus Arithraeticum," 
 of Dr. Wallis, that "One Sessa, an 
 Indian, having first found out the game 
 of chess and showed it to his prince 
 Shehram, the king, who was highly 
 pleased with it, bid him ask what he 
 would for the reward of his invention ; 
 whereupon he asked that, for the first 
 little square of the chess-board, he might 
 have one grain of wheat given him ; for 
 the second two, and so on, doubling con- 
 tinually according to the number of 
 squares in the chess-board which was 
 sixty-four. And when tlie king, who in- 
 tended to give a noble reward, was much 
 displeased that he had asked so trifling a 
 one, Sessa declared that he would be 
 contented with this small one. So this 
 reward he had fixed upon was ordered to 
 be given him, but the king was quickly 
 astonished, when he found that this would 
 rise to so vast a quantity, that the whole 
 earth itself could not furnish so much 
 wheat." 
 
 Concerning chess-men it is stated that 
 " The third piece of chess, which we call 
 a bishop, the French _/oo/, the Spaniards 
 alferez, and the Italians aifiere sergeand, 
 in the east was the figure of an elephant, 
 whose name (Jit) it bore. The fifth piece, 
 which we call a rook, and the French torn, 
 is called by the eastern people the rokh, 
 and the Indians make it of the figure of a 
 camel, mounted by a horseman with a 
 bow and arrow in his hand. The same 
 of rokh, which is common both to the 
 Persians and Indians, signifies in the lan- 
 guage of the last a sort of camel used in 
 war, and placed upon the wings of their 
 armies by way of light horse. The rapid 
 
 motion of this piece, which jumps frori 
 one end of the board to the other, agrees 
 with this idea of it; it was at first the only 
 piece that had motion." 
 
 According to Leland's " Collectanea" 
 it appears, that " Fulco (Fitzwaren) pri- ' 
 mus, had syx sunnes, Fulco, William, 
 Garine, Philip, John, and Alane ; John, 
 sun to king Henry, and Fulco fell at va- 
 riance at chestes, and John brake Fulco 
 hed with the chest horde; and then 
 Fulco gave him such a blow that had 
 almost killed him." John seems never 
 to have forgiven this blow, as he deprived 
 Fulco of the tittle of Witington, gave him 
 the government of the Marches, and en- 
 deavoured to have him killed, or to get 
 him into his power, but at last pardoned 
 and employed him in Zealand, where he 
 did noble feats. 
 
 Again — " There is a story of two persona 
 of distinction, the one lived at Madrid, 
 the other at Rome, who played a game of 
 chess at that distance. "They began when 
 young, and though they both lived to a 
 very old age, yet the game was not fi- 
 nished. One of them dying, appointed 
 his executor to go on with the game. 
 Their method was, each don kept a chess 
 board, with the pieces ranged in exact 
 order, in their respective closets at Ma- 
 drid and Rome : having agreed who should 
 move first, the don informs his play-fellow 
 at Rome, by letter, that he has moved his 
 king's pawn two moves, the courier 
 speedily returns, and advises his antago- 
 nist that the minute after he had the ho- 
 nor to receive this, he likewise moved his 
 king's pawn two paces, and so they went 
 on." 
 
 In my former letter I ventured an opi- 
 nion respecting the origin of chequers at 
 the doors of public houses. In the Gents. 
 Magazine,' Ixiii. S31, a correspondent 
 states that " the earl of Arundel, in th^ 
 reign of Phillip and Mary, had a grant to 
 licence public houses, and part of the 
 armorial bearings of that noble family was 
 a chequered board, wherefore the publi- 
 can, to show that he had a licence, put 
 out that mark as part of his sign." Iiv 
 vol. Ixiv. 737, another contributor writes, 
 " I think it was the great earl of Warrenne,' 
 if not, some descendant or heir near him, 
 not beyond the time of Rufas, had an ex'- 
 clusive power of granting licences to sell 
 beer. That the agent might collect a tax 
 more readily, the door posts were painted 
 in chequers, the arms of Warren then, and 
 to this day." 
 
591 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 8 
 
 699. 
 
 CHESSMEN DESIGNED BY FLAXMAN, 
 
 Should eilher of these statements be 
 correct, I deduce therefrom that my im- 
 putation of the origin of (heguers to chess 
 (done is not unfounded, and partlclilarly 
 as it is stated, in Dr. Rees's Enolyclo- 
 pedia, that at one time the popularity of 
 this game among the nobility was so great 
 that " no fewer than 26 English families 
 have emblazoned chess-boards and ch6s3 
 looks in their arms." 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 J. F. R. 
 Walworth, April 13, 1831. 
 
 Pbilidor. 
 
 Andrfe Danican, a native of Drieux, 
 near Paris, who had the sobriquet, or nick- 
 name, of Philidor, given him by the king 
 of France, after an Italian musician of 
 that name, was not more noted as the 
 first chess-player than for his musical 
 compositions. He published his " Ana- 
 lyse du Jeu des Echecs," in 12mo., Lond, 
 174K, He died ou the 31st of Au- 
 gust, 1 795, at the age of sixty-nine. He 
 enjoyed to the last a strong retentive me- 
 mory, which long rendered hira remark- 
 able. He was a member of the Chess 
 Club near thirty years. His meek quali- 
 li) 3 caused him tj be no less esteemed as 
 
 a companion than he was admired for tniit 
 extraordinary skill in the difficult game of 
 chesj which pre-eminently distinguished 
 hira. Two months before his death, ho 
 played two games blindfold at the same 
 time, against two excellent chess-playeiis, 
 and was declared the victor. What 
 seemed most to have shaken his consti- 
 tution, and to have hastened his decease, 
 was the refusal of a passport to France to 
 see his family, who lived there, before he 
 paid the last debt of Nature. This was 
 rendered more bitter on its being inti- 
 mated that he was a suspected character, 
 and had been denounced by a committee 
 of French informers. From that moment 
 his philosophy forsook him — his tears 
 were incessant. — and he sunk into the 
 grave without a groan.* 
 
 The Season. 
 
 Each hedge is cover*d thick with green ^ 
 And^ where the hedger late hath been. 
 Young tender shoots begin to grow 
 From out the mossy stumps below. 
 But woodmen still on. Spring intiude« 
 And thin the shadow's solitude , 
 With sharpened axes felling down 
 
THE YEAIl BOOK— MAY 9 
 
 CHESSMEN DESIGNED BY FLAXMAN. 
 
 The oak-trees oudding into brown, 
 Which^ as tbey crash upon the ground, 
 A crowd of laborers gather round. 
 These, mixing 'mong the shadows dark^ 
 Rip off the crackling, staining bark ; 
 Depriving yearly, when they come. 
 The green woodpecker of his home. 
 Who early in the Spring began. 
 Far from the sight of troubling man. 
 To bore his round holes in each tree 
 In fancy's sweet security ; 
 Now startled by the woodman's noise 
 He wakes from all his dreary joys. 
 
 CloTe. 
 
 May 8. 
 
 h. 
 Day breaks ... 1 
 Sun rises .... 4 
 — sets .... 7 
 Twilight ends. . . 10 _ 
 Celandine, king's-spear, and Welsh- 
 poppy in flower. 
 
 4t 
 26 
 34 
 19 
 
 IHafi 9. 
 
 In May, 1732, died John Erskine, the 
 eleventh earl of Mar. He was knight of 
 the thistle, twice secretary of state, a pro- 
 moter of the Union, and had been repeat- 
 edly returned one of the sixteen peers to 
 
 represent Scotland in parliament. Find- 
 ing himself deprived of all his offices, and 
 suspected by the ministry of George 1., he 
 openly avowed those principles which it 
 is supposed he secretly entertained in 
 support of the Pretender and commanded 
 an undisciplined and half armed multitude 
 which was defeated by the king's troops. 
 He effected his escape and joined tlie 
 hope of his party at Rome; but quitting this 
 service he went to Geneva, where he was 
 arrested. Regaining his liberty, he retired 
 to Paris, which he left, depressed by mis- 
 fortune, for Aix-la-Chapelle, where he 
 died in the arms of his affectionate 
 daughter, Frances, who had been the 
 faithful companion of his afflictions. The 
 earl of Mar was twice married. His first 
 lady was Margaret, daughter of Thomas 
 Hay, earl of Kinnoul, by whom he had 
 issue, John, who died an infant, and 
 Thomas, Lord Erskine. His second 
 countess was Frances, daughter of Evelyn 
 Pierrepoint, duke of Kingston. She ef- 
 fected his escape in an ingenious manner, 
 by dressing him in woman's clothes. 
 George I. allotted this lady her jointure, 
 as if her lord had been actually dead ; 
 and permitted bis friends to purchase his 
 estates, valued at £1678 per annum, for 
 
595 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 11. 
 
 595 
 
 the use of his son, who, by attaint of 
 4ilood, was reduced to a commoner.* 
 
 The treasure of the deep is not so precious. 
 As are the concealed comforts of a man 
 Lock'd up in woman's love. I scent the air 
 What a delicious hreath marriage sends forth t 
 The violet bed's not sweeter. Honest wedlock 
 Is like a banqueting house built in a garden, 
 On which the Spring's chaste flowers take de- 
 light 
 
 To cast their modest odours. 
 
 Middlelon, 1657. 
 
 h. -TO. 
 
 May 9. Day breaks ... 1 38 
 
 Sun rises . . . . 4 24 
 
 — sets 7 36 
 
 Twilight ends . . 10 22 
 Solomon's seal flowers. 
 Common comfrey, Forster's comfrey 
 (Sytoptetum Forsteri), and Scotch com- 
 frey flower.. 
 
 ■The swift is sometimes first seen to day ; 
 the general arrival is usually a viuek 
 later. 
 
 iWaa? 10. 
 
 Whit Sunday. 
 
 According to the rule in the calendar 
 by which Easter Sunday may fall at the 
 earliest on the 22d of March,Whit Sunday, 
 which is the seventh Sunday after Easter, 
 may fall at the earliest on the 10th of 
 May. 
 
 Whit Sunday Customs. 
 
 On Easter-eve and Whitsunday-eve, 
 the Font-hallowing was one of the many 
 various ceremonies in early times. The 
 writer of a MS volume of Homilies in 
 the Harleian Library, No. 2371, says, " in 
 the begynning of holy chirch, all the 
 children weren kept to be chrystened on 
 thys even, at the font-hallowyng ; but now, 
 for enchesone that in so long abydynge 
 they might dye without chrystendome, 
 therefore holi chirch ordeyneth to chrysten 
 at all tymes of the yeare ; save eyght dayes 
 before- these Evenys, the chylde shalle 
 abyde till the font hallowing, if it may 
 safely for perill of death, and ells not." 
 
 Among the ancient annual church dis- 
 bursements of St. Mary at Hill, in the city 
 of London, the following entry sometimes 
 occurs : — " Water for the Font on Whit- 
 son Eve, id." 
 
 * Noble. 
 
 Strewing the Church. CoUinson, in his 
 History of Somersetshire, speaking of 
 Yatton, says, that "John Lane of this 
 parish, gent., left half an acre of ground, 
 called the Groves, to the poor for ever, 
 reserving a quantity of the grass for 
 strewing the church on Whitsunday." 
 
 Alms Houses. Mr. A. Wood says that 
 " there were no alms houses, at least they 
 were very scarce, before the Reformation; 
 that over against Christ Church, Oxon, is 
 one of the ancientest. In every church 
 was a poor man's box, but I never re- 
 membered the use of it ; nay, there was 
 one at great inns, as I remember it was 
 before the wars. These were the days 
 when England was famous for the grey 
 goose quills."* 
 
 h. m. 
 JkTaj/ 10.— Day breaks . - 1 34 
 Sun rises ... 4 22 
 — sets ... 7 38 
 Twilight ends . 10 26 
 Blue-bottle flowers. 
 Monkey poppy sometimes flowers. 
 Mouse-ear flowers on warm banks ; its 
 general flowering is a week latef. 
 
 Dandelion covers the fields, after flower- 
 ing, with round downy poppy like heads, 
 which children puff away and call 
 -^ blowers." 
 
 Whit Monday. 
 
 The rule in the calendar, stated yester- 
 day, applies to this day. 
 
 Many particulars concerning usages 
 at Whitsuntide are stated in the Every- 
 Duy Booh. 
 
 Whitsuntide was formerly one of the 
 seasons greatly preferred for marrying, 
 and in which a great many, weddings were 
 performed before the passing of the mar- 
 riage act. Previous to the operation of 
 that law, one George Keith, an episcopal 
 Scotch minister who had been " driven 
 from Scotland," says the rev. Mark Noble, 
 " for his attachment to episcopacy," settled 
 in London; and, to procure a maintenance, 
 set up a marriage-ofiice in the Fleet, Sind' 
 carried on the trade, since so successfully 
 pursued by the " Blacksmith" of Gretna 
 Green. Few persons so much injured 
 the public morals, or caused so much dis- 
 tress in families, as this unworthy man and 
 his brethren. They had their setters, or 
 
 » Brand i.231. 
 
59r 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 12. 
 
 598 
 
 barkers, to ask people passing in the 
 streets whether they wanted a clergyman 
 to marry them. Keith apd his journey- 
 men one morning, during the Whitsun 
 holidays, at May Fair Chapel, locked to- 
 gether a greater number of couples than 
 had been married at any ten churches 
 within the bills of mortality. He had 
 transferred his practice from the Fleet to 
 May Fair, where he continued to oflSci?te 
 for many years, till he was again obliged 
 to take refuge in tlie Fleet. At length the 
 Bishop of London excommunicated him, 
 and caused the sentence to be repeated in 
 May Fair Chapel. In 1700, Keith pub- 
 lished "The Guide; or, the Christian 
 Pathway to Everlasting Life," — yet he was 
 an utter disgrace to the clerical character. 
 He frequently performed the marriage 
 ceremony while he and the parties he 
 united were inastate of brutal intoxication. 
 The "Adventurer," speaking of "signs," 
 observes, that the " hand and pen" pro- 
 perly belonged to the schoolmasters, 
 »' though the very reverend and right 
 worthy order of my neighbours, the Fleet 
 parsons, have assumed it to themselves, as 
 a mark of marriages performed without 
 imposition." KeiSi lived till he had at- 
 tained his 89th year. He died in 173S. 
 
 May II. Daybreaks 
 Sun rises 
 — sets 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. in. 
 1 30 
 4 21 
 7 39 
 10 30 
 
 Whitethorn e*ery where in flower. 
 Apple trees in full blossom. 
 Primroses and polyanthuses begin to go 
 out of flower. 
 
 Dragon flies appear near water. 
 
 map 12. 
 
 Eton Montem. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 The origin of this very curious and sin- 
 gular custom, which is triennial ly cele- 
 brated on Whit-Tuesday, is involved in 
 doubt and obscurity. Some suppose that 
 it was coeval with the foundation of Eton 
 college, and that it derives its title from a 
 Monkish procession takingplace annually 
 to a small mount (perhaps formerly a 
 Saxon, barrow, near a village, at present 
 situated on the Bath road,) called Salthill ; 
 and that, by the monks composing this 
 procession, vua? then and there sold con- 
 secrated " salt," whence the name of the 
 
 place.* It can however be satisfactorily 
 traced as far back as the time of Elizabeth, 
 who when on a visit to the college desired 
 to see an account of the ancient ceremonies 
 observed there from the period of its 
 foundation. In the list was an annual 
 procession of the scholars, who, on these 
 occasions, repeated verses, and gathered 
 money for a dinner and other purposes, f 
 
 It is well known that this spectacle 
 consists at present of a procession of the 
 boys to Salthill, where money is collected 
 for the captain as a kind of provision 
 against his going to the University. But, 
 though thus much is well known, the 
 little minut'ue attendant on the occasion 
 are not so. 
 
 The students begin to assemble at 
 about 9 o'clock in the morning, and at 
 half past there is what is termed, in the 
 Etonian phraseology, an "absence."' 
 This may require a little explanation, as 
 it is called hums i non lucendo, from all 
 being required to be " present ;" and on 
 " Montem-day" it is performed thus : 
 The boys, in order, march three times 
 round the playing or school yard, and 
 are each successive time called over by 
 the head Master, who stands at his " Cham- 
 ber door." Behind each " fifth form 
 boy" marches a " lower boy," carrying 
 a white . pole, and hence this part of the 
 school receive the appellation of " pole 
 bearers." 
 
 After this necessary part of the cere- 
 mony it becomes nearly time to proceed to 
 Salthill ; but to check too great impatience 
 on the part of the Etonians, Sundry stout 
 fellows are placed at all places of exit, 
 well armed with staves. At ten the boys 
 begin to move, and dire is the rout, and 
 dreadful is the squeeze, each striving with 
 each to be out first, since the only per- 
 mitted way is through the cloisters, and 
 thence into the playing fields ; and the 
 last passage is narrow in the extreme. 
 When once fairly out, the " pole-bearers" 
 dutifully hold out their poles, to be 
 smitten in twain by the valorous swords 
 of the fifth form, girded on for that sole 
 purpose. 
 
 Their march ought to be performed in 
 great and extended order, two and two, 
 but before they get half-way "confusion 
 worse confounded" takes the place of 
 military array ; and in uproar wild they 
 arrive at Salthill, where they are once 
 more marshalled. 
 But the most important personages, and 
 
 * Windsor Guide, t Beauties of Enghmd 
 and Wales by J. Brit'on. 
 
599 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 12. 
 
 600 
 
 whose duty is most heavy, have been 
 omitted ; these are this " Salt-bearers." 
 Their proper number is only two, but 
 they are assisted by many others denom- 
 inated " Servitors,'' or scouts, or runners ; 
 these are composed of the residue of the 
 6th form, after the marshal, captain, 
 lieutenant, ensign, sergeants,and corporals 
 have been deducted ; and also of a certain 
 number of the king's scholars in the 5th 
 form, called " Liberty boys." On the 
 morning of Montem they frequently rise 
 as early as six o'clock, and forthwith scour 
 ■the country, levying contributions on all 
 they fall in with. As a multitude of 
 persons usually flock from all quarters to 
 visit the " sight," the number whom they 
 meet is generally very great. Mr. Britton, 
 whom I cite, says " thai the refusal of pas- 
 sengers to buy salt would, perhaps, be 
 attended with danger." When "salt" 
 has been purchased, or, in other words, 
 when money — for, of course, nothing but 
 money will suffice — has been contributed, 
 the buyer or contributor is presented with 
 a ticket, which is affixed to some conspic- 
 uous part of the dress, i. e. the hat of a 
 gentleman, &c., and this token secures an 
 exemption from future demands. One 
 of the Montem tickets was quaintly and 
 appropriately inscribed with the Latin 
 wbrdsMos pro lege, " Custom in place of 
 right." In consideration of the great 
 fatigue they would otherwise undergo in 
 thus scouring the coantry, each salt bearer 
 and scout is allowed a horse and gig, for 
 the double purpose of saving time and 
 labour, and of being enabled, by extend- 
 ing their circuit, to gather contributions 
 from greater numbers, and therefore to a 
 greater amount. Having collected the 
 salt from the company, the salt bearers, 
 &c.,Ievy a contribution from the boys, of 
 at least one shilling each, which in the 
 whole school would amount to upwards 
 of £30. 
 
 When they have reached Salt-hill, the 
 object of the procession, another piece of 
 mummery takes place, the College flag 
 incribed with the motto pro more et monte, 
 " For our custom and the Mount," is 
 bravely waved three times by the ensign 
 standing on the summit of the montem 
 or Hill. 
 
 Tbe real business of the procession is 
 then accomplished, but by far the most 
 satisfactory part, to the boys at least, now 
 begins; for after an "absence" on the 
 mount the fifth form are distributed to 
 dine by themselves, and the lower boys 
 
 by themselves. The scene that then 
 takes place can be easily left to the 
 imagination. 
 
 Another amusement is, after dinner to 
 lounge about a certain garden ; and then, 
 provided the Captain, or head boy, who' 
 is to receive the " benefit" of the Montem, 
 be disliked (as was the case last Montem, 
 June 9th 1829,) the boys forthwith set 
 about with sword and with mischievous 
 industry to demolish the trees, shrubs, 
 plants, flowers, &c. ; the payment of all 
 which damage falls to'the Captain. At 
 the last Montem the Royal Life (xtiards 
 (Blue), then stationed in Windsor, were 
 called to keep guard there, and much 
 mirth was. excited by the Etonians chal- 
 . lenging the Blues to single combat, when, 
 soon as the ponderous sword of the 
 Guardsman was uplifted, the affrighted 
 Student betook himself to his heels. 
 
 After another "absence"on the Montem 
 the procession retires to Eton about five. 
 This is the part enacted by the Etoni- 
 ans, but the sight attracts multitudes, 
 and, if the weather is fine, the company 
 are a greater " show" than the " show" 
 itself. The carriages are many, and as time 
 advances their number increases, till their 
 fair occupants, if they desire to get a good 
 " place," are often obliged to take to the 
 foot. • 
 
 _ The day aftei the Montem the Captain 
 gives a breakfast to the first two hundred 
 boys, in the College Hall. 
 
 Having thus, in however deficient and 
 faulty a style, attempted to show the Mon- 
 tem as it is, without being influenced by 
 undue prejudice, I proceed in a brief 
 manner to describe the various titles and 
 customs adopted by the Etonians, on 
 this, as it may be called, their triennial 
 day of jubilee. 
 
 (1.) .4 Marshal, who however is in 
 reality inferior to the Captain, He 
 is dressed in a Marshal s uniform, 
 and carries a baton. Several servants 
 and pages in the dresses of different 
 nations follow him two and two. 
 (2.) A Captain, really the commanding 
 officer, for whose "benefit" tbe 
 Montem is held, and who is head boy 
 of the school. The Captain cannot 
 be other than a king's scholar, for no 
 oppidon, that is to say, no boy not 
 on the foundation, is allowed to be 
 one. He is dressed in the usual 
 regimental dress, superbly adorned, 
 and is attended as the Marshal. 
 (3.) A Lieutenant, in the usual dress. 
 
601 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAV n. 
 
 (4.) Ah Ensign,, the second boy, that is 
 a king's scholar, to whom is entrusted 
 the College Flag. 
 Besides these a great many (5.) Ser- 
 geants, and (6.) Corporab, in their proper 
 uniforms. These are all who are of 
 acknowledged rank ; they consist entirely 
 of king's scholars, and sixth form. 
 
 (7.) The rest pt the tilth form are attired 
 in military coats, cocked hats and 
 feathers,, white trowsers, and boots ; 
 girded with a sword, quite a la mili- 
 tatre,ofall ranks. The dresses worn 
 by the fifth form on this day are 
 continued till the midsummer holi- 
 days, while, on the contrary, the 
 fancy costumes of the sixth form and 
 salt-bearers are merely put on for the 
 occasion : hence the boys of the 
 fifth form obtain the cognomen of 
 " hbsters." ' 
 (8.) The remainder of the boys, entitled 
 " lower boys," are dressed in white 
 waistcoats, trowsers, silk-stockings, 
 and pumps : their coats are blue, and 
 they carry a white pole. 
 (9.) The Salt-bearers and their Servitors, 
 Scouts, or Runners, wear every kind 
 of fancy dress that can be devised, 
 of all nations and of all colors 
 (each however is furnished with a 
 large embroidered bag for " salt,") 
 so that they are the gayest of the gay. 
 Throughout this account, the word 
 " benefit" has been used in a doubtful and 
 ambiguous sense, and may require a little 
 explanation. AH however that need be 
 urged is that frequently, far from proving 
 beneficial to the young man whom it is 
 intended to assist during his stay at the 
 University, the Montera has the very 
 opposite effect of leaving him out of 
 pockat. The cause of which is the expense 
 of the superb dress he has to wear, the 
 dinner at Salt-hill which, he has to give 
 to certain b(^s, the payment of all dam- 
 age done to the garden, and above all the 
 breakfast, which is expected to be an ele- 
 gant dejeuni a laJ'ourchette,provided at his 
 own cost for two-hundred school-fellows ! 
 the collection, however, frequently 
 amounts to between £800 and £1000. 
 His Majesty's contribution varies from 
 £50 to £100. 
 
 Here it occurs as being proper to add 
 from the "Winsor guide" a pleasant 
 note — " Some writers of the present day 
 have objected to the continuance of this 
 custom, on the ground of its inutility. 
 tvA it has been successfully vindicated 
 
 by several able advocates, one of whom 
 thus pleasingly describes the attractions 
 of this animated spectacle : — ' Out upon 
 the eternal hunting for causes and reasons! 
 I love the no-meaning Eton Montem. 
 I love to be asked for salt by a pretty 
 boy in silk stockings and satin doublet, 
 jhough the custom has been called some- 
 hing between begging and robbing. 1 
 love the apologetical Mos pro lege, which 
 defies the Police and the Mendicity 
 Society. I love the absurdity of a Captain 
 taking precedence of a Marshal, bearing 
 a guilt B^ton at an angle of forty-five 
 degrees from his right hip ; and an En- 
 sign flourishing a flag with the grace of a 
 Tight-rope Dancer; and Sergeants paged 
 by fair-skinned Indians and beardless 
 Turks ; and Corporals in sashes and gor- 
 gets, guarded by innocent Polemen ir 
 blue jackets and white trowsers. I love 
 the mixture of real and mock dignity; 
 the Provost in his cassock clearing the 
 way for the Duchess of Leinster to see 
 the ensign make his bow, or the Head- 
 master gravely dispensing leave of 
 absense till nine to Counts of the Holy 
 Roman Empire and Grand Seigniors. 
 I love the crtish in the cloisters and mob 
 on the Mount — I love the clatter of car- 
 riages and the plunging of horsemen — 
 1 love the universal gaiety, from the Peer 
 who smiles and sighs that he is no longer 
 an Eton Boy, to the Country Girl who 
 marvels that such little Gentlemen have 
 cocked hats and real swords. Give me a 
 Montem with all its tom-foolery I had 
 almost said before a coronation. It is a 
 right English scene ; — there is the stay- 
 maker's wife from Thames Street,*elbow- 
 ing a Cavendish, and a Gentleman-com- 
 moner of Cambridge playing the agree- 
 able to a farmer's pretty daughter from 
 Chippenham-green. Cynics, Cynics, 
 abandon your heresy !' " 
 
 There are copies of doggrel verses 
 distributed on the occasion, and, having 
 fortunately one of the last before me, it 
 is annexed. It will be instantly perceived 
 that there is no attempt at euphuism in 
 them — the names are those of the Boys 
 in their order in the procession. 
 Montem Ode, June 9, 1829. 
 
 Behold me once more your old poet ecstatic. 
 Though old, blind, and nearly three paila 
 rheumatic, 
 
 * Windsor, not London, gentle reader. 
 
603 
 
 THE YEAft BOOK.— MAY 12. 
 
 <K)4 
 
 Yet, alert in my car. 
 Like a young man-of-war. 
 Or a horse. 
 
 Or a shay. 
 Or (I'm quite at a loss 
 What next I should say) ; 
 So with out anymore gaytiopes and fiuefigures. 
 Hail ! masters, young, old, white, dusky, or 
 niggers. 
 Late as I lay upon my bed. 
 
 And snugly dream't upon my pillow, 
 Great PhcEbus self stood at my head. 
 
 And cried, with voice emphatic, hillo. 
 Get up and sing of Montem, ^nd of salt. 
 He said and vanished like a pint of malt. 
 Pregnant with inspiration, up I rose. 
 First snatched my lyre — then put on my 
 clothes. 
 Harnessed my steed, 
 I did indeed. 
 
 And, as I drank a pint of purl, I 
 Wrote upon the hurly-burly. 
 Hark ! by the sound of the iifes and drams, 
 I think the Marshal surely comes ; 
 And here he is, Oh 1 only look ! 
 In red and gold like a leaving book ; 
 Then march on Mr. Hughes, 
 In your boots 'stead of shoes ; 
 And y'r servants follow two by two. 
 But none so gaily dress'd as you. 
 But see ! how grand, with pages fine. 
 Comes the Captain quite divine ! 
 Ah ! my noble Captain Brown 
 Sure your coat was made in town ; 
 And your pages dress'd as Greeks, 
 I've not seen such for many weeks ; 
 See they walk so nobly by, humph I 
 Fit to grace a Roman triumph. 
 But they 're gone by, , 
 
 And, oh ! myeyc. 
 The Sergeant Major, 
 With a page, or 
 Two in his train. 
 Stalks o'er the plain : 
 March on then YoNGB 
 Your praise T 've sung. 
 So do'nt be vex'd; 
 But who comes next ? 
 By my fame, I think 'tis BARRETT, 
 Bress'd as fine as any parrot ; 
 In his clothes of brilliant red. 
 With his hat upon his head* 
 Bat only see, air. 
 Sergeant Measor, 
 Just look at him if you please, sir. 
 Behind him sergeant HiBBERT moves. 
 In a pair of new white gloves ; 
 
 * It may perhaps be necessary to explain 
 this to some readers. There is a custom at 
 Eton of giving a book to a boy' at his depar-. 
 ture ; this is thtt'rsfore called a leaving book, 
 and, as it is generally handsomely bountl and 
 gilt, the simile is on this occasion very appro- 
 priate, nigarlic. 
 
 Then comes Creasy, 
 Don't ho please ye ? 
 Lo ! as bright 
 As night 
 
 By the harvest moon or star-lit ; 
 With gloves on his knuckles. 
 And shoes and buckles, 
 
 March away, march away, Mr. SCARLETT. 
 Not less enchanting. 
 See Mr. Carlton, saunter in 
 With his legs in leather boots. 
 Moving to the sound of flutes ; 
 And the portly Mr. CRAVEN, 
 Gently skims along, the field : 
 
 And Mr. Armstrong nearly raving. 
 With a sword but not a shield. , 
 
 Then comes Mr. SNOW, 
 Whose red coat as you know 
 Is as fine as it can be. 
 With lace very handy ; 
 And JlLP the very pinU, of fashion. 
 With breeches, sho^s, and, hat, and sash on. 
 After him comes gallant MoORE, 
 And he looks any thing but poor; 
 And see behind him Mr. HOtSE, 
 With beating heart, and beating pulse, 
 Dress'd as gay 
 As any jay, 
 In honor of the Montem day. 
 Then, behold, comes colonel MONCK, 
 Admiring thousands cry " quid nunc ;" 
 See his sword upon his thigh. 
 See his feathers towering high ; 
 Now, however, he's gone by. 
 But soft, with a flag, ' 
 
 What ensign is this ; 
 Were I now a wag, 
 I might say Adonis ; 
 No, sirs, in a word. 
 Let the plain truth be heard ; 
 Ensign ELLIOT, advance 
 With your new step from France,-— 
 Wave the flag, see how funny 
 
 The people all talk. 
 The gents cry out " well done he !" 
 The mob cry out " Oh lauk !" 
 Next the gay lieutenant Theed 
 Struts along j he's fine indeed ! 
 Methinks I hear each lady sigh 
 As the lieutenant marches by : 
 To say the truth. 
 He's a noble youth. 
 So full of grace and dignity. 
 But the ladies like, I know, 
 Most.uf all the motley show, 
 Mr. Price, 
 Who looks as nice 
 As king Cambys- 
 
 Es, 
 
 Or Achilles. 
 
 And brave Mr. Yard, 
 
 With a mantle of velvety 
 If it should, rain ill-starr'd 
 
 Young man ! 'twill be well-Wet. 
 The march is done, 
 
60S 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 12. 
 
 606 
 
 Not so my song ; 
 
 I'd near foigot 
 
 (Oh no ! I'd not), 
 
 The steward FoRD, 
 
 Upon my word, 
 Without the aid of silk and lace ; 
 His native dignity and grace 
 Make him a good one for his place. 
 
 My tale is o'er, my lyre unstiung. 
 
 The last, last rhyme upon my tongue ; 
 
 My donkey, first and best of asses. 
 
 Well fed to day, at least, on grass is ; 
 
 Farewell, then ! should the toward muse 
 
 Expire, e're the next Montem views, 
 
 O, give a pearly drop of tear, 
 
 If not, — a pint of purl, or beer— 
 
 To Herbert Stockhore, 
 
 Punctual as clock, or 
 
 Bailifif, or dun. 
 
 Or Tartar, or Hun. 
 Farewell, the world hath been, and must be, 
 To poets, statesmen, fiddlers^ and to me. 
 
 C. Andreas, Printer, Wmdaor, 
 
 It must be confessed thut, in point of 
 sense — I had welt nigh said nonsense — 
 this Ode* comes np to its subject. Really 
 I am surprised that something better 
 is not produced, considering that one 
 Montem is three years distant from an- 
 other, and that Eton boys have a reputation 
 for talent, which such a composition tends 
 to falsify. 
 
 March, 1831. Pilgarlick. 
 
 [From the same Correspondent.] 
 
 To render more complete the account of 
 the Montem, which I have already sent, I 
 transmit the following : 
 JExtract-from the Cornier, May 1799.t 
 
 Y^lerday this triennial ceremony took 
 place, with which' the public are too well 
 acquainted to require a particular de- 
 scription. A collection, called salt, is 
 taken from the public, which forms a 
 purse, to support the captain of the school 
 in his studies at Cambridge. This col- 
 lection is made by the scliolars, dressed in 
 fancy dresses, all round the country. 
 
 At eleven o'clock, the youths being as- 
 sembled in their habiliments at the col- 
 lege, the royal family set off from the 
 castle to see them, and, after walking 
 round the court yard, they proceeded to 
 Salt Hill in the following order: — 
 
 His majesty, his royal highness the 
 prince of Wales, and the earl of Ux- 
 bridge. 
 
 * Query, Odd. Printer's Devil; 
 t Copied from Miss Edgcworth's Parent's 
 Assistant, p. 239, vol, iiic, edition in 3 vols. 
 1331. 
 
 Their royal iiighnesses the dukes of 
 Kent and Cumberland, earl Morton, and 
 general Gwynne, all on horseback, dressed 
 in the Windsor uniform, except the prince 
 of Wales, who wore a suit of dark blue, 
 and a brown surtout over. 
 
 Then followed the scholars, preceded 
 by the marechal, sergeants, the musician^ 
 of theStaffordshire band, and Mr. Ford, 
 captain of the seminary, the sergeant- 
 major, sergeants, colonels, corporals, mo;. 
 sicians, ensign, lieutenant, steward, salt- 
 bearers, polemen, and runners. 
 
 The cavalcade being brought up by her 
 majesty and her. amiable daughters in two 
 carriages, and a numerous company of 
 equestrians and pedestrians, all eager to 
 behold their sovereign and his family. 
 Among tlie former lady Lade was fore- 
 most in the throng ; only two others dared 
 venturp their persons on horseback in 
 such a multitude. 
 
 The king and royal family were stopped 
 on the bridge by Messrs. Young and 
 Mansfield, the salt-bearers, to whom their 
 majesties delivered their customary dona- 
 tion of fifly guineas each. 
 
 At Salt Hill, his majesty, with his usual 
 affability, took upon himself to arrange 
 the procession round the royal carriages ; 
 and, even when the horses were taken off, 
 with the assistance of the duke of Kent, 
 fastened the traces round the pole of the 
 coaches, to prevent any inconvenience. 
 
 An exceedingly heavy shower of rain 
 coming on, the prince took leave, and 
 went to the Windmill Inn, till it subsided. 
 The king and his attendants weathered 
 it in their great coats. 
 
 After the young gentlemen had walked 
 round the carriage, ensign Vince, and the 
 salt-bearers, proceeded to the summit of 
 the hill, but, the wind being boisterous, he 
 could not exhibit his dexterity in display- 
 ing his flag, and the space being too small 
 before the carriages, from the concourse of 
 spectators, the king kindly acquiesced 
 in not having it displayed under such in- 
 convenience. 
 
 Tlieir majesties and the princesses then 
 returned home, the king occasionally 
 stopping to converse with the dean of 
 Windsor, the earl of Harrington, and 
 other noblemen. 
 
 The scholars partook of an elegant 
 dinner at the Windmill Inn, and in the 
 evening walked on Windsor Terrace. 
 
 Their royal highnesses the prince of 
 Wales and duke of Cumberland, after 
 taking leave of their majesties, set off for 
 
607 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 12. 
 
 C08 
 
 io"n, and honored the Opera House with 
 their presence in the evening. 
 
 The profit arising from the salt col- 
 lected, according to account, amounted to 
 above £800. 
 
 The stadtliolder, the duke of Gordon, 
 lord and lady Melbourne, viscount 
 Brome, and a numerous train of fashion- 
 able nobility were present. 
 
 The following is an account of their 
 dresses, made, as usual, very handsomely,' 
 by Mrs. Snow, milliner, of- Windsor : — 
 
 Mr. Ford, captain, with eight gentle-, 
 men to attend him as servitors. 
 
 Mr. Serjeant, marechal. 
 
 Mr. Brandrith, colonel. 
 ' Mr. Plumtree,* lieutenant. 
 
 Mr. Vince, ensign. 
 
 Mr. Young, college salt bearer, white 
 and gold dress, rich satin bag, covered 
 with gold netting.- 
 
 Mr. Mansfield, oppident, white, purple, 
 and orange dress, trimmed with silver; rich 
 satin bag, purple and silver, each carry- 
 ing elegant poles with gold and silver cord. 
 
 Mr. Keity, yellow and black velvet, 
 helmet trimmed with silver. 
 
 Mr. Bartelot, plain mantle and sandals, 
 Scotch bonnet, a very Douglas. 
 
 Mr. Knapp, -(■ flesh-color and blue; 
 Spanish hat and feathers. 
 
 Mr. Ripley, rose-color ; helmet. 
 
 Mr. Islip (being in mourning), a scarf; 
 helmet, black velvet; and white satin. 
 
 Mr. Tomkins, violet and silver; helmet. 
 
 Mr. Thackery, lilac and silver; Roman 
 cap. 
 
 Mr. Drury, Mazarin blue ; fancy cap. 
 
 Mr. Davis, slate-color and straw. 
 
 Mr. Routh.pink and silver; Spanish hat. 
 
 Mr. Curtis, purple; fancy cap. 
 
 Mr. Lloyd, blue; ditto. 
 
 At the conclusion of the ceremony, the 
 Toyal family returned to Windsor, and the 
 boys were all sumptuously entertained at 
 the tavern, at Salt Hill. About six in the 
 evening, all the boys returned in the 
 order of procession, and, marching round 
 the great square of Eton, were dismissed. 
 The captain then paid his respects to the 
 royal family, at the queen's lodge, Wind- 
 sor, previous to his departure for kinu's 
 college, Cambridge, to defray which ex- 
 pense the produce of the Montem was 
 preseiited to him. 
 
 * Afterwards a master, and at present 
 a fellow of Eton. — PiL, 
 
 t At present second master of Kton, having 
 succeeded Afv. Yonge, 1830. — PlI.. 
 
 The day concluded by a brilliant pro- 
 menade of beauty, rank, and fashion, on 
 Windsor Terrace, enlivened by the per- 
 formance of several bands of music. 
 
 The origin of the procession is from 
 the custom by which the manor was held. 
 
 The custom of hunting the ram be- 
 longed to Eton College, as well as the 
 custom of Salt; but it was discontinued 
 by Dr. Cook, late dean of Ely. Now 
 this custom we know to have been entered 
 on the register of the royal abbey of Bee, in 
 Nortnandy, as one belonging to the manor 
 of East or .Great Wrotham, in Norfolk. 
 When theharvest was finished, the tenants 
 were to have half an acre of barley ,and a ram 
 let loose, and, if they caught him, he was 
 their own to make merry with, but if he 
 escaped frojn them, he was thelord's. The 
 Etonians, in order to secure the ram, 
 houghed him in the Irish fashion, and 
 then attacked him with great clubs. The 
 cVuelty of this proceeding brought it into 
 disuse, and now it exists no longer. — See 
 Register of' the Roi/al Abbey of Bee, folio . 
 68. 
 
 The article in the Courier concludes 
 with this statement — "After the dissohi- 
 tion of the alien priories, in 1414, by the 
 parliament of Leicester, they remained in 
 the crown till Henry VI., who gave Wro- 
 tham inanor to Eton College; and if the 
 Eton fellows would search, they would, 
 perhaps, find the manor, in their posses- 
 sion, that was held by the custom of Salt." 
 
 The Courier narrative diiTers but in a 
 very slight degree (and that almost en- 
 tirely on account of the different reign in 
 which the Montem described in the 
 " Courier" took place) from the descrip- 
 tion which I have already furnished. 
 Thirty years have elapsed between that 
 Montem and the last, another thirty years 
 may find it extinct, or deprived of all its 
 present splendor. 
 
 April,\63l. ' PlLOARLICK. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 May\2. — Daybreaks . 1 27 
 
 Sun rises . . 4 19 
 
 sets ... 7 41 
 
 Twilight ends . 10 33 
 German Flower de Luce flowers. 
 Pale piony flowers ; in a few days it is 
 succeeded by the common crimson va- 
 riety ; but the pale retains its petals 
 longer. 
 
 Scentless hesperis flowers. 
 Motherwort (IlrsiT.Ris matrinaii^) 
 flowers. 
 
60 609 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK;— MAY 13. 
 
 610 
 
 HAWKING. 
 
 If hawking were fashionable, May would 
 be a busy season with lovers of the diver- 
 sion. It was the most predominant rural 
 amusemeot for many ages, and followed 
 by all the gentry of the country at a great 
 expense. There were large tracts of land 
 in and near Cranbourne chase, called 
 f' Banking Downs," which were covered 
 ^HJIh gorse and fern, and resorted to by 
 pheasants and partridges. The bordering 
 woods produced woodcocks ; these, when 
 disturbed from the woods, came to " a 
 flight" for the hawks, in the open glades, 
 and showed great sport. 
 
 The amusement was carried to such a 
 height, that no ^ntleman could be com- 
 pletely dressed for company without 
 having a glove on his left hand, and a 
 hawk sitting on it. He who bore his 
 hawk in the most graceful manner was 
 deemed the most accomplished cavalier ; 
 and, to please the ladies, it was the prac- 
 tice to play flirting tricks with the plumes 
 of the hawks, at the same time, and in 
 like manner, as the ladies did with their 
 fans. 
 
 Vol. I.— 20. 
 
 According to the reverend Mr. Chafin, 
 although falconry had such a despotic 
 sway for many ages, it is now a question 
 whether there is one reclaimed foreign 
 hawk in the western part of the kingdom; 
 but there may be a few English hawks 
 annually trained in the neighbourhood of 
 Bridport, in Dorsetshire, for the taking of 
 land-rails in the hemp and flax fields near 
 that town, in which, during some seasons, 
 th^ are very plentiful. 
 
 W. Tregonwell Frampton, Esq., seems 
 to have been, about the year 1670, the 
 most active pursuer of this diversion in 
 the west of England. He was a gentle- 
 man of family and fortune in Dorsetshire, 
 and generally resided there ; but he had 
 a house also at Newmarket, and was a 
 person of great notoriety on the turf 
 there. He had race-horses in training, 
 and regularly attended all the race meet- 
 ings, carrying with him several casts of 
 fine hawks, for the diversion of his nu- 
 merous associates. 
 
 X 
 
6U 
 
 THE YEAR B06K.-*-MAY 13, 14. 
 
 613 
 
 jfttae 13. 
 
 The Tears or Old May Day. 
 
 Led by the jocund train of vernal hours, 
 And vernal airs, uprose thti gentle May ; 
 
 Blushing she rose^ and blushing ruse tlie flowers 
 That sprung spontaneous in her genial ray. 
 
 Her looks with heav'n's ambrosial dews were 
 . bright, 
 
 AndamVous zephyrs fluttered in lier breast: 
 AVith every shiilihg gleam of morning light 
 
 The colors shifted of her rainbow vest. 
 Imperial ensigns grac'd her smiling form, 
 
 A golden key, and golden wand, she bore ; 
 This charms to peace each sullen eastern storm. 
 
 And that unlocks the summer's copious store. 
 Onward, in conscious majesty, she came. 
 
 The grateful honors of mankind to taste ; 
 To gather fairest wreaths of future fame, . 
 
 And blend fresh triumphs with her glories 
 past. 
 Vain hope ! No more in choral bands unite 
 
 Her vii^in votaries, and at early dawn. 
 Sacred to May, and Love's mysterious rite^ 
 
 Brush the light dewdrops* from the span- 
 gled lawn. 
 To her no more Augusta'sf wealthy pride 
 
 Pours the full tribute of Potosi's mine ; 
 Nor fresh blown garlands village maids provide^ 
 
 A purer offering at her rustic shrine. 
 No more tbe Maypole's verdant height around 
 
 To valour's games th' ambitious youtli ad- 
 vance ; 
 "No merry bells, and tabors- sprightlier sound 
 
 Wake the loud carol, and the sportive dance. 
 Ah me ! for now a younger rival claims 
 
 My ravish'd honors, and to her belong 
 My choral dances, and victorious games, 
 ~ To her my garlands and triumphal song. 
 say, what yet untasted bounties flow, 
 
 What purer joys await her gentler reign 1 
 Do lilies fairer, vi'lets sweeter blow 1 
 
 And warbles Philomel a sweeter strain 1 
 Do morning suns in ruddier glory rise ? 
 
 Does ev'ning fan her with serener gales ? 
 Do clouds drop fatness from the wealthier 
 skies. 
 
 Or wantons plenty in her happier vales ? 
 
 Ah ! no ; the blunted beams of morning light 
 
 Skirt the pale orient with uncertain day ; 
 And Cynthia, riding on the ear of night. 
 
 Through clouds embattled faintly wins her 
 way. 
 Pale immature, the blighted verdure springs. 
 
 Nor mountain juices feed the swelling flow'r, 
 Mute all the groves, nor Philomela sings. 
 
 When silence listens at the midnight hour. 
 Nor wonder man that nature's bashful face. 
 
 And op'hing charms her rude embraces fear; 
 
 ♦ Alluding to the custom of gathering May-dew. 
 t The plats Garlands of London 
 
 Is she not sprang of April's wayward race. 
 The sickly daughter of th' unripen'd year 
 
 W^ith show'rs and sunshine in her fickle eyes. 
 
 With hollow smiles proclaiming treach'rous 
 
 peace ! 
 
 With blushes harb'ring in their thin disguise, 
 
 The blast that riots on the spring's increase. 
 
 Logan. 
 
 h. m 
 Mai/ 13.— Day breaks . . 1 23 
 Sun rises . . . 4 17 
 — sets -; . . 7 43 
 Twilight ends . 10 37 
 The corncrake, or landrail, heard^'bv 
 night, when sitting among the long grass 
 or clover. Its harsh frequently repeated 
 note, resembling the grating of a key 
 against a piece of notched wood, may be 
 so clearly imitated, that the bird itself 
 will mistake it for the crv of one of its 
 species 
 
 iW«2 14. 
 
 In the parish of Logierait, Perthshire, 
 and in the neighbourhood, a variety of 
 superstititious practices still prevail 
 among the vulgar, which may be in part the 
 remains of ancient idolatry, or of the cor- 
 rupted Christianity of the Romish church; 
 and partly, perhaps, the result of the 
 natural hopes and fears of the. human 
 mind, in a state of simplicity and igno- 
 rance. ' 
 
 Lucky and unlucky dsys are by many 
 anxiously observed. That day of the 
 vpeek on which the fourteenth of Mig/- 
 happens to fall, for instance, is deemed' 
 unlucky through all the remaindier of the 
 year ; none marry or begin any serious 
 business upon it. 
 
 None choose to marry in Januaryor May, 
 or to have their banns proclaimed in the 
 end of one quarter of the year and marry 
 in the beginning of the next. 
 
 Some things are to be done before the 
 full moon ; others after. 
 
 In fevers, the illness is expected to be 
 more severe on Sunday than on other days 
 of the week ; if easier on Sunday, a re- 
 lapse is feared. ' 
 
 Immediately before the celebration ot 
 the marriage ceremony, every knot about 
 the bride and bridegroom (garters, shoe-| 
 strings, strings of petticoats, &c. &c,) is 
 carefully -loosened After leaving the 
 church the company walk round it; keep- 
 ing the church walls always upon the 
 right hand. The bridegroom, however, 
 
613 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— MAY IS, 16. 
 
 -6M 
 
 first retires one way with some young 
 men, to tie the knots which were loosed 
 about him ; while the young married 
 woman, in the same manner, retires else- 
 where to adjust the disorder of her dress. 
 
 When a child was baptised privately, 
 it was not long since' customary to put 
 the child upon a clean .basket, having a 
 cloth previously spread over it, with bread 
 and cheese put into the doth ; and thus 
 to move the basket three times succes- 
 sively round the iron crook, which hangs 
 over the fire from the roof of the house, 
 for the purpose of supporting the pot 
 when water is boiled, or victuals are pre- 
 pared. This might anciently be intended 
 to counteract the malignant arts which 
 witches and evil spirits were imagined to 
 practice against newborn infants. 
 
 Such is the picture of the superstitions 
 of Logierait, as drawn twenty -five years 
 ago.* 
 
 May 14. — Day breaks. 
 Sun rises . 
 
 h. m. 
 1 19 
 4 16 
 
 — sets ... 7 44 
 Twilight ends . 10 41 
 . The swift, or black martin, begins to 
 arrive abundantly, and resort to its old 
 
 In May, 1718, Sir Francis Page, a re- 
 markable legal character, was created a 
 baron of ,t]ie Exchequer. He was'theson 
 of the vicar of Bloxham, in Oxfordshire, 
 and bred to tb^ law, but possessing, few 
 requisites for the profession, he. pushed his 
 interest by writiqg political parnplilets, 
 which were received with attentioii in the 
 proper quarters, so that he was called to 
 the coif, in 1704, and became king'^ Ser- 
 jeant in, 171^15. . He was made a Justice 
 of the Common Pleas in 1726; and in 
 the following year a justice of the Kipgtg 
 Bench. His language was mean and taii- 
 tologus. In a chargejto.the grand jury at 
 the assizes, he said — " Gentlemen of the 
 jury, you. ought, to ^nquife a.*ter recusants 
 in that k'md,,a.v4 such as do not frequent 
 the churoh v> 'A"'. *'W ; but, above all, 
 such ^ )iaqnt ale-houses in 'that kind; 
 drunkards and btajipheraers .in that kind, 
 j^d^.all Botorious ofienders. in that kind, 
 are to be presented in that kind, and, as 
 the laws in that kind direct, must be pro- 
 
 * Commuoicated bjf. a juvenile correspon- 
 dent, J Vf., from .Arlis's'Pocket Marazinc. 
 
 ceeded against in that kind." To the 
 grand jury of Middlesex in May 1736, he 
 began his charge: "I dare venture to 
 affirm, Gentlemen, on my own knowledge, 
 that England never was so happy both at 
 home and abroad as it now is." At a trial 
 at Derby, about a small spot of ground, 
 been a garden, an old woman, a witness 
 for the defendanl, deposed, there never 
 had been a flower grown there since Adam 
 was created. "Turn the witness away," 
 said this arbiter of law and language. It 
 was said of him,- that •" he was a judge 
 vsithout mercy and a gentleman without 
 manners." He rendered his name odious 
 by a dreadful severity. He endeavoured 
 to convict, that he might have the luxury 
 of condemning ; and was called, in con- 
 sequence, " the hanging judge." He in- 
 dulged in making doggerel lines upon 
 those he knew. In a cause at Dorchester, 
 treating one King, a rhyming thatcher, 
 with his usual rigor, the man retorted 
 after the trial was over, 
 
 God, in his rage. 
 Made a Judge Page. 
 
 He was the judge who tried Savage, the 
 poet, on a charge of murder, and was so 
 anxious to convict him, that he was after- 
 wards brought to confess that he had been 
 particularly severe. When phthisicky and 
 decrepid, as he passed along from court, 
 ,a. 'gentleman eivqui)!ed particularly of the 
 state of his health. " My dear Sir, you 
 see I keep hanging on, hanging on." 
 This disgrace to the bench outlived all 
 his ermined'. brethren, and died, ui<la- 
 mented in December, 1741, at the age -of 
 80. Mr. Noble heard, when ahoy, some 
 very severe lines that had been placed 
 upon his monument, whicli his relatives 
 greatly resented. 
 
 fl. m. 
 
 May \5. — Daybreaks . . 1 15 
 
 Sun rises . . - 4-14 
 
 — sets . . . 7 46 
 
 Twilight ends .' 10 45 
 
 Great star of Bethlehem! flowers. 
 
 Gockchaffer appears. 
 
 iWag 16. 
 
 The Season. 
 
 ' Each morning, now, the weeders meet 
 To cut th£ thistle from the -wheat,' 
 And ruin/ in the' sunny houife. 
 Full nlany a wild weed with its flowers ; — 
 C«m-poppies, that in crimson dwell, 
 Ca'.l'd " Head-acbs," from their sickly smell ; 
 
ii& 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 17, 18. 
 
 616 
 
 And charlocks, yellow as the sun. 
 That o'er the May-fields quickly run ; 
 And " Iron- weed/' content to share 
 The meanest spot that Spring can spare. 
 
 Clare. 
 
 h. Di. 
 
 Mm/ 16. — Day breaks . . 1 10 
 
 Sun rises ... 4 13 
 
 — sets ... 7 47" 
 
 Twilight ends . 10 50 
 
 Yellow star of Bethlehem begins to 
 
 flower. 
 
 The purple star of Jerusalem flowers 
 in gardens. The general flowering of 
 these two plants is in June 
 
 Utas 17. 
 
 May 17, 1823, as a country woman, 
 with her market-basket on her arm, was 
 admiring " a bit of finery," in a draper's 
 window, at York, her partner in life came 
 up without being noticed by her, aad, per 
 ceiving her intense gaze at what she 
 could not purchase, he secretly abstracted 
 a handkerchief from her basket, and went 
 his way in joyful anticipation of his wife's 
 vexation upon her discovering its absence. 
 Unluckily for the joker, a gentleman, 
 to whom the parties were strangers, ob- 
 served the trick, and directed a constable 
 to secure the villain. The robber was 
 seized on the pavement and instantly car- 
 ried before a magistrate. In the mean 
 time the unsuspecting woman was inform- 
 ed of her loss and hurried away to iden- 
 tify the luckless handkerchief. — She did 
 so — it was her own — the very one which 
 she had been deprived of, and, turning 
 with honest indignation to look at the 
 thief, she exclaimed with astonishment and 
 fear, " Oh lawks ! — gentlemen, its mah 
 husband !" The arm of law was para- 
 lysed. The prisoner was the robber of 
 his own property, — the magistrate laughed, 
 the gentleman and the constable laughed — 
 and, the charge being laughingly dis- 
 missed, the liberated husband and his 
 artless wife posted away to tell their vil- 
 lage neighbours what awful things had 
 happened to them at York. 
 
 Columbine {Aquilegia vulgaris) floweri 
 in gardens : there are other species which 
 also flower. The true wild columbine 
 has blue flowers, which are occasionally 
 varied with white ; but the garden sorts 
 are dark puce, or purple, or lilac, and 
 shew many varities. 
 
 ifttau 18. 
 
 May 18, 1732, the Rev. John Lawrence 
 M. A., prebendary of Salisbury, died at 
 Bishops Wearmouth, Durham. He ex- 
 celled in the art of gardening, and parti- 
 cularly in the cultivation of fruit-trees, 
 and published a " new system of agricul- 
 ture," and a "complete body of hus- 
 bandry and gardening." His fine collec- 
 tion of trees, which is said to have yielded 
 fruit not inferior to that from the orchards 
 of Languedoc. Naturally hospitable and 
 benevolent, he had great pleasure in pre-_ 
 senting a rich dessert to his friends. " I 
 do not know," says the Rev. Mark Noble, 
 " a more pleasing or healthful occupation, 
 than agriculture and gardening — occupa- 
 tions so compatible with the life of a rural 
 clergyman. Mr. Lawrence wisely re- 
 marks of gardening, that it is the most 
 wholesome exercise, being ad ruborem non 
 ud sudorem. It is such an exercise as stu- 
 dious men require ; less violent than the 
 sports of the field, and more so than fish- 
 ing. It is, in fine, the happy medium." 
 Millar, who superseded his labors, lived 
 in days of greater experience, in the cen- 
 tre of general knowledge, and his sole oc- 
 cupation was horticulture : Mr. Lawrence 
 was a plain country clergyman, who, from 
 love of retirement and rural occupation, 
 mainly contributed to raise gardening into 
 estimation. Yet he did not give more 
 time to his fields and gardens than he 
 could properly spare from his public 
 duties. He wrote several tracts to enforce 
 the obligations and practice of religion 
 and virtue. 
 
 Mar/ 17. — Day breaks . 
 Sun rises . . 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m, 
 1 4 
 4 11 
 7 49 
 10 56 
 
 h. m. 
 May 18. Day breaks ... 57 
 Sun rises .... 4 10 
 — sets . . - . 7 50 
 Twilight ends . . 11 3 
 Wall hawkweed flowers. 
 Mouse-ear hawkweed becomes com- 
 mon. 
 
 Cats-ear flowers. 
 
 The goatsucker arrives, and its jarring 
 noise heard by night. 
 
6ir 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 19, 20. 
 
 •IJ? 
 
 mnv 19. 
 
 A va>ued correspondent intimates that 
 on the 19th of May the General Assembly 
 of the church of Scotland meets at Edin- 
 burgh. The circumstance is merely no- 
 ticed, because in the limits prescribed to 
 the remainder of tlve month, there is not 
 room for particulars ; and because, per- 
 haps, the kindness of correspondents may 
 afford additional facts. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 1% 19. Day breaks ... 49 
 Sun rises .... 4 9 
 — sets .... 7 51 
 Twilight ends . . 11 11 
 Purple rhododendron flowers, and con- 
 tinues till the beginning of the summer 
 solftice. 
 
 man 20. 
 
 Tlie Rev. Edward Stokes, rector of 
 Blaby, Leicestershire, for fifty years, was 
 blind from nine years old, and died at the 
 age of ninety-three. He was born at 
 Bradgate, and lost his sight by the dis- 
 charge of a pistol, on the 20th of May, 
 1698, carelessly left lying about, and 
 'which in play he had himself presented to 
 the breast of a young lady but a few mi- 
 nutes before. It was not supposed to be 
 charged ; his elder brother had the pistol 
 in his hand, when Edward playfully bid 
 his brother " fire !" the whole charge in- 
 stantly lodged in his face, where the 
 shots continued till tne end of life. His 
 unhappy brother, the innocent cause of 
 this misifortune, never got over his concern 
 for it, and died a young man. Edward, 
 thus rendered blind, was entered at Clare- 
 hall, Cambridge, and was presented by 
 Lord Chancellor Hardwicke, in 1737, to 
 the rectory of Wymondham; and, in 
 1748, on his father's death, to Blaby. 
 Notwithstanding his infirmity, he perform- 
 ed the service of the church for many 
 years with only the assistance of a person 
 to read the lessons. He was of a disposi- 
 tion uncommonly cheerful, and his spirits 
 never failed him. To the poor of bis 
 parish he was a most benevolent benefac- 
 tor, on whom he expended nearly the 
 whole of a handsome private fortune; 
 About thirty years before his death, he 
 put up a monument in his church, to the 
 memory of his father, mother, brother, and 
 sister, on which he also placed his own 
 
 name. He had the perfect use of his 
 limbs, and to the last he walked about 
 his own premises unguarded, and with a 
 facility which would not allow a stranger 
 to imagine that he was either old or blind, 
 and yet he was in his ninety-third year 
 when he died. 
 
 This brief notice of a worthy parish- 
 pastor is derived from the Gentleman's 
 Magazine, for 1798 ; "to which account a 
 contributor, also laboring under the infir- 
 mity of blindness, adds that, — 
 
 "The Rev. Edward Stokes, of Blaby, 
 used to hunt briskly ; a person always ac- 
 companied him, and, when a leap was to be 
 taken, rang a bell. A still more extraor- 
 dinary man in this way [blind], that had 
 been, I think, an officer in the army, 
 figured as a bold rider in the Marquis of 
 Granby's fox-hunt. Ho had no attendant ; 
 I have often been out with him ; if any 
 persons happened to be near him when a 
 leap was to be taken, they would say, "A 
 little farther. Sir — now a great leap ;" nor 
 did I ever hear of his receiving any harm. 
 Much the same was said, at tiiat time, of 
 Lord Robert Bertie, who is represented 
 in Hogarth's View of a Cock-pit ; and, it 
 I mistake not, the present Lord Deerhurst, 
 who lost his eye-sight by a fall in hunting, 
 still pursues the game in the same man- 
 
 May 20, 1717, Sir John Trevor died 
 at his house in Clements Lane, London, 
 and was buried in the Rolls chapel. He 
 was second son, and, in the sequel, heir to 
 John Trevor, of Brynkinall, in Denbigh- 
 shire, Esq., by an aunt of Lord Chan- 
 cellor Jefferies. Like his cousin, he was 
 bred to the law, and obtained great pre- 
 ferment. He was solicitor-general, twice 
 speaker of the house of commons, twice 
 master of the roUSj and a commissioner 
 of the great seal. He cautioned James 
 II. against his arbitrary conduct, and his 
 cousin, Jefferies, against his violence. Sir 
 John TreVor was able and yet corrupt. 
 The mortification was imposed upon him 
 of putting the question to the house of 
 commons, as speaker, whether he himself 
 ought to be expelled for bribery. The 
 answer was in the affirmative. He loved 
 money, and would at any time perform 
 the meanest action to save a trifling ex- 
 pense. Dining one day by himself at the 
 Rolls, a relation entered the room when 
 he was drinking his wine; he immedi- 
 ately said to the servant who had intro- 
 duced him " You rascal, and^-have you 
 
619 
 
 THE YEAR book:— MAY 21, 22.- 
 
 62d 
 
 brought my cousin Rodgric Lloyd, Esq., 
 prothonotary of North Wales, Marshal to 
 baron Piice,and so rorth,and so forth,up my 
 back stairs. Take my cousin Roderic Lloyd, 
 Esq., prothonotary of North Wales, mar- 
 .shal to Baron Price, and so forth, and so 
 forth, take him instantly back, down my 
 back-stairs, and bring him up my front 
 s'tairs." To resist was vain. The protho- 
 notary of North Wales, marshal, and so 
 forth, was withdrawn by the servant down 
 the back and brought up the front stairs,, 
 while the bottle and glass were carefully 
 removed by " his Honour" Ihe master of. 
 the Rolls. Sir John had a frightful obli- 
 quity of vision; in allusion to which, and 
 to his legal ability and notorious habits, 
 the wags said that " Justice was blind, ■ 
 but law only squinted." The eyes of his 
 cousin Lloyd, of the back stairs, were 
 likewise like that of the Trevors, appears 
 to have been defective. Roderic was 
 near-sighted. Late one evening he was 
 obstructed in the street; being choleric 
 he drew his sword, Snd violently plunged 
 it against his antagonist, who immediately 
 fell. Terriiied at the idea of murder and 
 retrijjutive justice, he fled, and concealed 
 himself in the coal-hole of the master of 
 the Rolls. ' A faithful valet was sent in 
 the morning lo learn who had fallen : the 
 man arrived with the happy intelligence 
 that an aged decayed pump, lay prostrate 
 from the impetuosity of Lloyd's- assault, 
 and transfixed by his sword. 
 
 n. m. 
 May 20. Day breaks . . 41 
 Sun rises . . .4 7 
 — sets ... 7 53 
 Twilight ends .11 19 
 Yellow azalea and red azalea flower. 
 Yellow star of Jerusalem flowers. This 
 and the purple star close their flowers at 
 noon. 
 
 White Lychnis flowers. 
 Flower of Adonis blows. 
 
 Mnvt 21. 
 
 Under this day there is the following 
 entry in a curious book containing the 
 names and crimes of people in Northum-. 
 berland,, who had incurred the punish- 
 nient of excommunication, and were pre- 
 sented to the Consistory Court of Arches 
 at Durham, viz.— «, Bambrough, May 21, 
 1681. Presented Thomas Anderson, of 
 S)Wmhoe, for playing on a bag-pipe before 
 
 a bridegroom on a Sunday, and not fre- 
 quenting the church, and for not receiving 
 the- holy sacrament."— " Eliz. Mills for 
 scolding, and drying fish on the Lord's^ 
 day." This legal cognizance of instru- 
 mental and vocal performance, is cited in 
 Mr. Mackenzie's "History of Newcastle." 
 
 . The 'oUowing circumstances is also 
 stated in the before cited work : — 
 
 In 1793, Mr. George Wilson, a mason, 
 met with a toad, which he wantonly im- 
 mured in a stone" wall that he was then 
 building. In the middle of the wall he 
 made a close cell of lime and stone, just 
 fit for the- magnitude of its body, and 
 seemingly so closely plastered as to pre- 
 vent the admission of air. In 1899 (six- 
 teen years afterwards) it was found ne- 
 cessary to open a gap in this wall, for a 
 passage for carts, when the poor creature • 
 was found alive in its strong-hold. It 
 seemed at first in.a very torpid slate, but 
 it soon recovered animation and activity ; 
 and, as if sensible of the blesaings' of 
 freedom, made its way to a collection of 
 stones, and disappeared. 
 
 -h. m« 
 
 May 31. — Day breaks . . 33 
 
 Sun rises ... 4 6 
 
 — sets ... 7 54 
 
 Twilight ends . 11 27 
 
 Buttercups flower in most meadows 
 
 and fields. 
 
 Yellow bachelors' buttons flower a 
 double variety : blows gardens somewhat . 
 earlier. 
 
 mm 22. 
 
 In the Gentleman's Magazine for May, 
 1.799, mention is made of tlie death of 
 James White, who, besides several trans- 
 lations, was author of some historical 
 novels, entitled, " Richard Cceur de 
 ^ion," " Earl Strongbow," « John of 
 Gaunt," and several poetic pieces. He 
 was educated at the university of Dub-' 
 Un, and esteemed an admirable scholar, 
 with brilliant talents. , For four or five 
 years before his decease, he was very dis- 
 tressed and eccentric. He had conceived 
 an ardent affection for ayoung lady, who, he 
 erroneously, supposed was as warmly at-: 
 tached to him. Some plot, he imagined,' 
 had been contrived to wean her regard, 
 and he attributed failures of his applica- 
 tion for patronage and, employihent from 
 the great to secrgt machiiiations. He,; 
 
.«» 
 
 tUE YEAR BOOK.-*MAY 22. 
 
 622 
 
 as erroneously supposed this infliaence 
 prevailed with the London booksellers to 
 prevent his literary labors from being duly 
 rewarded. He passed the winters of 
 1797 and 1798 in the neighbourhood of 
 Bath ; and was often noticed in the pump 
 room, and in the streets or vicinity of the 
 city, thin, pale, and emaciated, vrith a 
 wild penetrating look. He was known 
 to have been without animal food for se- 
 veral months, and to have supported life 
 by a meal of biscuit, a piece of bread, or 
 a cold potatoe, with a glass of water. Un- 
 able to pay his lodgings, and too proud 
 to ask relief, he wandered about the fields 
 at night, or slept beneath a hay-stack. 
 Once, when almost exhausted, he took 
 refuge . at an inn in Bath, where, by re- 
 fusing sustenance, he alarmed the mis- 
 tress ; she applied to the magistrates, and 
 they consigned him to the parish o'fficers. 
 ' In letters to some persons in the city, he 
 complained of " this unconstitutional in- 
 fringement of the liberty of the subject, '' 
 and suspected that his imaginary host of 
 enemies had again been plotting. About 
 this time he .published " Letters to Lord 
 Camden on the state, of Ireland," which 
 nere admired for elegance and strength of 
 language, shrewdness of remark, and per- 
 spicuity of argument. A small sub- 
 scription was privately raised, and deli- 
 cately tendered lo him. He received it 
 as a loan, and left Bath. Poverty and 
 sensitiveness deranged his mental powers. 
 He could neither labor corporeally, nor 
 attain to eminence, nor even obtain snffi- 
 ■ cient for subsistence by his p«n ; and he 
 shrunk from society, to suffer silently At 
 a little public house about six miles from 
 Bath he was found dead in his bed — he 
 perished, in distraction, and indigence, of 
 a broken heart 
 
 h. m 
 Maif 22.— Day breaks . . 23 
 Sun rises ... 4 5 
 — sets . . . 7 55 
 Twilight ends . 11 37 
 Yellow day-lily flowers. 
 Ragged robin flowers, and continues 
 .till mowed down with the meadow hay. 
 
 A CocNTRY Ramble. 
 •Tor the Year Book.] 
 
 Maidstone, 13th April, 1830. 
 " The morning was unusually. brilliant, 
 and the air as soft as that of Mid- 
 
 summer. As I sat discussing my break- 
 fast, notwithstanding that unaccountable 
 lassitude which Spring usually brings 
 with it,' I felt a mighty longing for a 
 ramble in the neighbourhood, and was, 
 accordingly, out of doors as soon as 
 circumstances would permit, wandering, 
 I scarce knew whither. I presently pass- 
 ed the precincts of the town, and stood 
 sunning myself on a quiet green, one side 
 of which was lined with a plantation of 
 firs, between whose dingy foliage a young 
 larch here and there put forth its feathery 
 branches, sprinkled with so bright a 
 green, that the contrast was more than 
 usually beautiful and striking. A regi- 
 ment of geese — the awkward squad of a 
 neighbouring poultry-yard — were gab- 
 bling great things as they tugged at t'ie 
 close-shaven turf, or eyed, with that 
 shrewd sidelong look which fools often- 
 times affect, such " remarkables" as they 
 met with in their wanderings. As they 
 were feeding close- beside the: path, they 
 seemed not a little disconceo-ted at my 
 near approach, and, .".ounding an alarm, 
 made off towards a picturesque country 
 inn that stood a short distance to the 
 right, as if on purpose to remind me of 
 the connection which Goldsmith has in- 
 stituted between this silly bird and " the 
 village alehouse 
 
 witli nicely sanded floor. 
 
 And varnished* clock, that clicked behind 
 the door." 
 
 " As calm as a clock,'' had long been 
 a favorite proverb with me ; and it now 
 seemed to combine those two properties 
 which are so rarely known to amalgamate, 
 — poetry and truth. I thought of many 
 a rural repast to which I had done ample 
 justice in the. cool parlour of some quiet 
 hostelfie, whilst my fancy had been 
 " abroad in the meadows," amongst the 
 breezy corn, bowing and flashing in the 
 clear sunlight, presenting, as it glistened 
 on its restless surface, more of that pen- 
 sive tenderness which belongs to an 
 autumn moon, than of those golden 
 glories distinguishing the god of day. 
 
 Beside this building, which was quite 
 in the old-fashioned style, and exhibited 
 a double series of " imbowed windows," 
 towered a stately oak, beneath whose 
 summer shade many a " contemplative 
 man" had gone in the cool of the day^ to 
 " interpose a little ease," and dream away 
 an idle hour over his pipe and jug : and 
 above it a light column of smoke rose 
 calmly from its ponderaus chimney., in 
 
C23 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 22. 
 
 634 
 
 beauteous contrast with the undulated 
 range of hills beyond it, dotted here and 
 there with darkyews, and knots of dusky 
 furze, hallowed by distance, and seeming 
 to float in a delicate atmosphere of purple 
 mist. 
 
 I entered a narrow road, hemmed in by 
 high sand-banks for some distance, and 
 where it became more open, presenting 
 occasionally a wayside cottage with its 
 white walls, and trim garden. From a 
 narrow slip of green sward beside the 
 road, I now caught a good view of the 
 hills, whither I was destined, and whose 
 gentle swell was broken every now and 
 then by steep chalk-pits, or hidden by tall 
 trees, rising in the ' middle distance, 
 which, where the lands behind them lay 
 fallow, were scarcely distiinguishable, 
 until a wandering sunbeam glanced on 
 them', and they leaped forth spontaneously 
 into light and glory. At sotne distance 
 to my left, I particularly noticed a lordly 
 elm, the branches of which, frosted over 
 with age, presented such a striking con- 
 trast to the depth of shade thrown over 
 them as the quick sun-bursts smiled upon 
 it, that I could liken it to nothing but its 
 own portraiture "in black and white." 
 The prominent lights became, all at 
 once, powdered with gold ; and the whole 
 tree assumed the appearance of a delicate 
 piece of fret-work, compounded of glass 
 and fire; 
 
 This feature in the landscape is one of 
 the principal characteristics of spring ; 
 and were I required to describe that de- 
 lightful season, in a single line, I do not 
 think it could be done more satisfactorily 
 than in the words of Cowper, — 
 " Shadow of sunshine, intermingliiig quick" — 
 
 — So quickly, indeed, that I have been 
 almost tempted, more than once, to ex- 
 change that powerful term, " sun-bursts," 
 for the more equivocal compound, " sun- 
 shot." The effect of these momentary 
 gleams, I have attempted to convey some 
 idea of, in the lines which follow : — 
 Now, on the distant hills^the sun- light rests — 
 
 Now, all at once, his milder rays enfold 
 The stately elms, that line the russet crests 
 
 Of those twin slopes before us ; and, behold ! 
 How, while it breathes upon them, and invests 
 
 The spare-clad branches with its gaudy gold. 
 They show so beauteous as to seem the while 
 
 A tissue woven from a serapVs smile ! 
 
 Pursuing my walk, I passed over a 
 clear streamlet, brawling across the road, 
 beside which I kept for a considerable 
 distance, amusing myself by watching the 
 
 shadow of its ripples, as they travelled 
 over its clear sandy bed, and thinking of 
 Clhaucer's "quick stremes and colde.'' 
 Here and there an antique root, quaintly 
 broidered with moss, peeped out from the 
 ragged bank above it, beyond which, in 
 a fresh flowering meadow, many happy 
 groups of cattle were ruminating. After 
 losing sight of this stream, I came sud- 
 denly upon a spacious opening to the 
 right, at the further end of which stood 
 the parish church, partially hidden by an 
 enormous yew, and standing in its green 
 church-yard, enclosed with a low stone 
 wall, at one corner of which were those 
 usual accompaniments, the stocks and 
 whipping-post. 
 
 In approaching it, my attention was, 
 for a few moments, arrested by two gro- 
 tesque pieces of sculptiire, ornamenting 
 the outhousess of an adjoining mansion, 
 one of which represents a countenance 
 strangely distorted by the act of vehe- 
 mently devouring a loaf, held between 
 the hands; and both, apparently, typify 
 the blessings of a well filled stcjre-house. 
 The church, which I had now reached, 
 was that of All Saints, at hoxley, so 
 named from the number of box-trees 
 formerly growing in its vicinity. I had 
 explored its interior, many years before, 
 and had found little to reward me for my 
 pains, except a long inscription concern- 
 ing the Wiatts of this place, and of 
 AUington Castle ; detailing the great and 
 good deeds of a certain cat, with reference 
 to an unfortunate member of that honor- 
 able house. I had noticed, also, an an- 
 cient brass, commemorating one of its 
 former rectors ; but, beside these things, 
 I do not remember to have seen augfit 
 worthy of record in this place. 
 
 I seated myself within the porch, by 
 whose twilight the quiet landscape, on 
 which I looked out, seemed " thrown to 
 • finer distance," the warm tints of the old 
 yew-tree, which I have just mentioned, 
 though radiant with the light of a pow- 
 erful morning's sun, forming a grate- 
 ful resting-place for the eye, after it had 
 wandered up the still street, and become 
 wearied by the glare of its dusty road- 
 way. After remaining here for a few 
 minutes, I emerged again into the plea- 
 sant sun-shine ; apd, quitting the church- 
 yard, pursued ray way up the hills beyond 
 it, till I reached a stile by the hedge-side, 
 on which 1 rested to take the annexed 
 sketch. — 
 
MS 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 22- 
 
 62A 
 
 BOXLEY, KENT. 
 
 And now I bethought myseif of the 
 happy hours I had lingered away amidst 
 the_ delightful scenery on which I was 
 gazing ; but specially of one day, " from 
 many singled out," when I had lain en- 
 tranced on a green slope to the westward, 
 and watched the clouds 
 
 ■ " Now huddling, now dispersing. 
 
 As with the windy messengers conversing" — 
 
 following their fleet shadows down the 
 long perspective, ,descending by a gentle 
 sweep, from the high level ridge on either 
 hand, and stretching' away into the blue 
 distance, like the framework of an enor- 
 mous vessel. I had then " mused praise," 
 as I looked on the rich level below me, 
 streaked with all hues, and exhibiting, 
 here and there, a still hamlet, or solitary 
 farm-house, peeping above the trees that 
 r-iirrounded it; and well I remembered 
 how the vastthoughts which then possessed 
 me had been put to flight by the discharge 
 ol a pistol, and its strange echo, — a harsh 
 nattling rush, so substantial that it might 
 
 almost be seen, and, tike nothing else but 
 the neezings of behemoth, or the " earnest 
 whisperings" of Polyphemus. 
 
 But other sounds awaited me ; for the 
 first fierce notes of the nightingale broke 
 upon my ears as T lingered near the skirts 
 of a coppice, not fkr distant; and I 
 thought how gentle Master Walton had 
 been held in thrall by this same " tumul 
 touus harmony," and had thus prettily mo 
 ralised upon it ; — " He that, at midnight, 
 when the very laborer sleeps securely, 
 should hear, as I have very often, the clear 
 airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising 
 and falling, the doubling and redoubling 
 of her voice, might well be lifted above 
 earth, and say. Lord! what music hast 
 thou provided for the saints in heaven, 
 when thon affordest bad men such music 
 on earth." And who, amongst tl.e many 
 that have treated of the " warbling wood- 
 land," did I not then bring to mind ? Bui, 
 first and foremost of the goodly train, 
 ranked he whose " rimes" had consecrated 
 the very spot where I now stood ; for the 
 old pilgrims' road to " Canterburie" lay 
 
■6%r 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 22. 
 
 6M 
 
 through the shaw in whose recesses this 
 " creature of a fiery heart" was cloistered. 
 Whilst I thought of his merry monk, 
 ■whose wanton eye, rolling hither and 
 thither, must have twinkled with more 
 than common lustre, as it glanced on the 
 neighbouring abbey of " Boxele" (where, 
 without doubt, good cheer and a hearty 
 welcome awaited him), I could almost 
 hear his ' bridel' 
 
 " Gingeling in whistling -wind as clere. 
 
 And eke as loud, as doth the chappel bell." 
 
 By this time I had finished my sketch, 
 and was pursuing my journey, halting 
 occasionally to gaze on the splendid sce- 
 nery below me ; I had passed the pleasure- 
 house built by lord Romney on the brow 
 of one of those gentle undulations which 
 jut out from the main range of hills; 
 and, on turning round, beheld, to the 
 ■westward, a scene the most gorgeous that 
 eve rpresented itself before me. — 
 
 " O ! 'twas an unimaginable sight ! 
 
 Glory, beyond all glory ever seen 
 
 By waking sense, or by the dreaming soul." 
 
 — The distance became gradually over- 
 shadowed by that mysterious gloom, 
 which, at this season, frequently passes 
 ncross the landscape at noon day, — a 
 time, which, notwithstanding the radiance 
 usually investing it, has, with reference 
 to this appearance, been appropriately 
 ■designated by the term " grim." The 
 whole scene, with the exception of the 
 little hill which I have just mentioned, 
 became presently absorbed, melting away 
 into the solemn mist, till it sunk entirely 
 out of sight, whilst the full tide of sua- 
 light, flushing that green eminence, and 
 the little lodge that crowned it, imparted 
 to them a glory, and an efiect, infinitely 
 beyond the power of expression. 
 
 I had now reached a knoll of firs, 
 endeared to me by many associations; 
 jfor, on the green sward below them, 
 mottled with alternate shade and sunshine, 
 I had rested one sultry summer's day, 
 gazing through their whispering foliage 
 at the blue heavens, amidst such quiet 
 that one might almost 
 
 " hear in the calm air above 
 
 Time, onwards swiftly flying." — 
 
 And I had been there, too, in a scowling 
 afternoon in autumn, when the wind 
 roared mightily amongst their branches, 
 mingling its fainter dirges with the roaring 
 of the distant sea ; on which occasion I 
 had made this " composure" following : 
 
 Here will we stand, upon this grassy knoll, 
 O'crcanopied by solemn Rtk, and see 
 Up the wild twilight sky, the storm-clouds roll. 
 And whilst th' unquiet winds breathe heavily, 
 Diink in their freshness till the wasted soul 
 Leaps up in echo to th<^ir minstrelsy, 
 Like impotence, to whose embrace are givexi 
 Armfuls of mercies, and the strength of heaven! 
 From this spot I shaped my course 
 towards the little village of Bredhurst, 
 and came suddenly upon its modest 
 church, nearly eclipsed by the old yew- 
 tree in its cemetery. Many years before, 
 I had been tempted to visit it, by a report 
 that some curious scroU-woi k ornamented 
 the windows of a part of it, now disused ; 
 the glass had been removed from them,, 
 or destroyed, and therefore, although at 
 some height from the ground, and of the 
 narrow lancet-shaped kind, 1 made an 
 attempt to get through one of them, 
 which was, after some difficulty, success- 
 ful. But my exit was another matter, 
 and I hung, for many a long minute, on 
 my poor ribs, fearirig they would all give 
 way together, and wriggling, as I have 
 seen a hungry, lean-faced dog, through 
 -the fore-court palings of a house " in 
 chancery," till, by a desperate effort, 1 
 jerked myself out, head foremost, on to 
 the green turf below. 
 
 I wandered hence, towards the secluded 
 chapel at Lidsing, or Lidgeon, situate at 
 no great distance, and, after making the 
 best of my way througha wood, came to 
 the "slip of green" which I have at- 
 tempted to describe in the following 
 verses, and, shortly afterwards, to the "old 
 chantry" in question : — 
 One might have deemed that still green spot 
 
 to lie 
 Beyond the rule of Time, so brightly there 
 The sun looked down from scarce a calmer 
 
 sky; 
 And, on the sobbing of its noon-tide air, 
 Sound was there none, except the rivalry 
 Of tuneful birds that fled the sultry glare, 
 To pour their ardent songs amidst the shade 
 Of trees which compassed this sequestered 
 
 glade. 
 There might you see trim ash, and lordly oak 
 ■Whose random boughs, with lichens ovcr- 
 
 dight, 
 Seemed ready-coiled to meet the thunder- 
 stroke ; 
 And graceful birch, with stem so silver* 
 
 bright ; 
 Its pendent branches, as the zephyr spoke 
 Around them, trembling in tie morning 
 
 light. 
 Like love, that may not love, and yet, in ruth 
 Thrills at the plea of tenderness and truth. 
 
629 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— MAY 22. 
 
 630 
 
 Each above eftch> in varied beauty planted^ 
 At all times lovely ; lovelier if scon 
 
 Wben the scant sprinkling of their leafage 
 granted. 
 Entrancing glympscs of the sky, between — 
 
 And from their fronts the narrow valley slanted 
 Down to the centre of a quiet green, 
 
 Fringed with dai'k knots of furze, which seem- 
 ed to lie 
 
 Itike wingless clouds upon an cv'ning sky, 
 
 — A summer-ev'ning sky, whose amber light 
 With the soft sweetness of its azure blending. 
 
 Melts into vivid green, that so the sight 
 Unpained may gaze iipon the sun descending. 
 
 So bright that valley seemed, so purely bright. 
 The thoughtful . stranger o'er its bosom 
 bending. 
 
 Saw, with impatient eye, the shadows pass 
 
 In weary sort^ along the dewy grass. 
 
 Beyond this calm retreat, — not far away. 
 
 With fields of cprn, and woods, encom- 
 passed round^ 
 
 An ancient chapel stood, time-worn, and 
 grey. 
 Upon its little plot of mossy ground. 
 
 Within whose sleek and sunny precincts lay 
 Two modest graves with slips of bramble bound. 
 All open to the winds, unsought, unknown. 
 But, though so lonely seeming, not alone. 
 For when the clear^ cool, rays of morning fell 
 
 Upon the sparkling turf, that wakeful brd, 
 " The sweet and plaintive Sappho of the 
 dell,"* 
 
 In this lone haunt her fervent suit preferred. 
 And there, the tinkling of the sheepfold bell. 
 
 Amidst the dim and sultry noontide, heard . 
 From that old chantry's farther side, betrayed 
 The straggling flock that wandered in its shade. 
 
 The ruddy thorns which careful friends had 
 bent 
 O'er those twin mounds, and watered with 
 'their tears. 
 Put forth green leaves, and danced in merri- 
 ment. 
 Reckless, as fhildhood of its coming years j 
 And there,, at (im^s, the wary robin went 
 
 To trill its simple vespers, full of fears, — 
 Whilst earth seemed all unearthly, and the 
 
 skies 
 Wept light like that which swims in Pity's 
 eyes. 
 
 The sky had been for some time over- 
 cast, but, before reaching this spot, the 
 sun broke forth again in all its warmth 
 and splendor. I returned towards the 
 hills, and, seating myself beside the 
 stepping-stone mentioned in my " Sum- 
 mer Wanderings," p. 13,* looked through 
 the misty sunlight, on the- rich valley 
 
 • Hood, 
 t Copied in the Year Book, col. 242. 
 
 below, the beauty of which was consider- 
 ably enhanced by the semi-transparent 
 effect imparted to many of the objects 
 which met the eye. 
 
 The quiet of the place was presently 
 broken by the clattering of hoofs along 
 the road, directly beneath me, on which 
 the "white dust lay sleeping." Aroused 
 by the sound, I arose, and made my .way 
 liomeward, across the coiiniry, marvel- 
 lously delighted, and, I hope, made wiser 
 by my day's adventure. 
 
 D. A. 
 
 BuENs's Snuff Box. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Mr. Bacon, an innkeeper at a celebrated 
 posting house cnllod Brownliill, about 12 
 miles north of Dumfries, was an intimate 
 acquaintance and an almost inseparable . 
 associate of Robert .Burns. Many a merry 
 night did they spend together over their 
 cups of foaming ale or bowls of whisky 
 today; and on some of those occasions Burn 
 composed several of his best convivial 
 songs and cheerful glees. The bard and 
 the innkeeper became so attached to each 
 other that, as a token of regard. Burns gave 
 to Bacon his snuff box, which for many 
 years had been nis pocket companion. 
 The knowledge of this gift was confined to 
 a few of their jovial brethren until after 
 Bacon's death in 1825, when his household 
 fuurniture was sold by public auction on 
 the 22d of May. Amongst the other 
 articles, Mr. Bacon's snuff box was put 
 up for sale and an individual bid a shilling 
 for it. There was a general exclamation in 
 the room that it was not worth tvvo-pence, 
 and the auctioneer seemed about to knock 
 down the article, he looked on the lid and 
 read, from an inscription upon it, with a 
 tremendous voice, " Rpbert Burns, Officer 
 of the Excise." S'carcely had he uttered 
 the words of the inscription when shilling 
 after shilling was rapidly and confu.-iedly 
 offered for this relic of Scotland's 'bard ; 
 the greatest anxiety prevailed while the 
 biddings proceeded, and it was finally 
 knocked down for £5. The box is made 
 of the tip of a horn neatly turned round 
 at the point ; its lid is plainly mounted 
 with silver, on which is engraven the fol-,. 
 lowing inscription — 
 
 '.' RoBT. Bdbms, 
 Officer 
 
 OF 
 
 The Excisf,.' 
 1 was present at the sale,, and itmoingst 
 
631 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 23, 24, 25. 
 
 632 
 
 the other individuals then assembled par- 
 took, from Burns's box, of a pinch of 
 snuff, which I thought was the most plea- 
 sant I ever tasted. Mr. Munnell, of Clos- 
 burn, was the fortunate purchaser and pre- 
 sent possessor of the box, and will, doubt- 
 less, retain it as long as he lives, in honour 
 of him whose name and fame will never 
 die. 
 
 March 1831 F. B. 
 
 i}«la»23. 
 
 The Season. 
 
 There are now delightful days — invit- 
 ing walks in green lanes and meadows, 
 and into the woodlands. Before the full 
 glory of the year comes on, the earth 
 teems with sweet herbs, and tiny flowers, 
 of exquisite beauty. — 
 
 The blue-bells too, that quickly bloom 
 Where man was never kuown to come ; 
 And stooping lilies of the valley, 
 That love with shades and dews to dally. 
 And bending droop on slender threads. 
 With broad hood-leaves above their heads. 
 Like white-robed maids, in summer hours. 
 Beneath umbrellas, shunning showers ; — 
 These, from the bark-men's crushing treads. 
 Oft perish in their blooming beds. 
 Stripped of its boughs and bark, in white 
 The trunk shines in the mellow light 
 Beneath the green surviving trees. 
 That wave above it in the breeze. 
 And, waking whispers, slowly bend, 
 As if they mourned their fallen friend. 
 
 Clare. 
 
 May 23. No heal Night, during the 
 remainder of the month. 
 
 h. ra. 
 Sun rises .... 4 3 
 — sets . . . . 7 57 
 Broom flowers. This, and gorse, 6;ive 
 the commons and wastes the beautiful 
 yellow which is succeeded in July by 
 the purple heath. 
 
 Mav 24. 
 
 May 24, 1715, died at Rochester, Wil- 
 liam Read, knight, a quack doctor, whose 
 celebrity is handed down, with his por- 
 trait by Burghers, in a sheet containing 
 thirteen vignettes of persons whose extra- 
 ordinary cases he cured. There is an- 
 other portrait of him in an oval raezzolinto, 
 
 holding up his gown with his left hand. 
 This knight of royalty and the pestle was 
 originally a tailor or cobbler, became a 
 mountebank, and practised medicine by 
 the light of nature. Though he could not 
 read, he rode in his own chariot, and dis- 
 pensed good punch from golden bowls. 
 Impudence is the great support of quack- 
 ery, and Read had uncommon effrontery. 
 A few scraps of Latin in his bills induced 
 the ignorant to suppose him wonder- 
 fully learned. He travelled the coun- 
 try, and at Oxford, in one of his ad- 
 dresses, he called upon the vice-chancellor, 
 university, and the city, to vouch for his 
 cures, in common with the " good peo- 
 ple" of the three kingdoms. He practised 
 in different distempers, but defied com- 
 petition as an oculist, and queen Anne 
 and George I. honored him with the care 
 of their eyes, from which one would 
 have thought that the rulers, like the 
 ruled, wished to be as dark as his bror 
 ther quack, Taylor's, coach horses, five of 
 which were blind, because Taylor had ex- 
 ercised his skill upon animals that could 
 not complain. After queen Anne had 
 knighted Dr. Read and Dr. Hannes, Mr. 
 Gwinnet sent the following lines, in a 
 letter to his beloved Mrs. Thomas : — 
 The queen, like Heaven, shines equally on all. 
 Her favors now without distinction fall : 
 Great Read and slender Uannes, both 
 
 knighted, show 
 That none their honors shall to merit owe. 
 That popish doctrine is exploded quite. 
 Or Kalph had been no duke,* and Read no 
 
 knight 
 That none may virtue or their learning plead. 
 This hath no grace, and that can hardly read. 
 
 h. m. 
 May 24. Sun rises .... 4 2 
 — sets .... 7 58 
 Yellow water avens in full flower 
 Brachtcate poppy flowers. 
 Creepirg crowsfoot flowers abundantly. 
 
 iftlaj) 25. 
 
 Country ScENEnr. 
 
 Now young girls whisper things of love. 
 And from the old dames' hearing move ; 
 Oft making " love-knots " in the shade. 
 Of blue green oat or wheaten blade ; 
 Or, trying simple charms and soells 
 Which rural superstition tells, ' 
 
 They pull the little blossom threads 
 
 * Of Mountague, 
 
 jn 
 
633 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 46, 27. 
 
 C31 
 
 FioiA out the knotweed's button heads. 
 And put the husk, with many a smile. 
 In their white bosoms for awhile, — 
 Then if they guess aright the swain 
 Their loves' sweet fancies try to gain : 
 'Tis ssud, that ere it lies an hour, 
 'Twill blossom with a second flower. 
 And from their bosom's handkerchief 
 Bloom as it ne'er had lost a leaf. 
 — But signs appear that token wet. 
 While they are 'neath the bashes met ; 
 The girls are glad with hopes of play. 
 And harp upon the holiday ; — 
 A high blue bird is seen to swim 
 Along the wheat, when sky grows dim 
 With clouds ; slow as the gales of Spring 
 In motion, with dark-shadowed wing 
 Beneath the coming storm he sails : 
 And lonely chirp the wheat-hid quails. 
 That come to live with Spring again. 
 But leave when summer browns the grain ; 
 They start the young girl's joys afloat. 
 With " wet my foot " — their yearly note — 
 So fancy doth the sound explain. 
 And oft it proves a sign of rain ! 
 
 Clare. 
 
 h. m. 
 May 25. Sun rises .... 4 1 
 
 — sets .... r 59 
 Yellow azalea in full flower. 
 
 Dark columbine begins to flower. 
 
 Herb benet or common avens, flowers. 
 
 India pink flowers. 
 ■ Pionies, columbines, and oriental pop- 
 pies^ in full blow. 
 
 man 26. 
 
 To Day — 
 
 A Lesson for Eueiy Day — 
 rtie light which we have gained was 
 given us not to be ever staring on, but by 
 it to discern onward things, more remote 
 from our knowledge. — Milton. 
 
 h. m. 
 Mm/ 26. Sun rises .... 4 
 
 — sets sets ... 8 
 Daisies are still numerous, and dot the 
 
 fields. 
 
 Crowsfoot of all kinds abundant. 
 Dandelions nearly out of flower. 
 
 Give me to walk on mountains bare. 
 Give me to breathe the open air. 
 To hear the village children's mirth 
 To see the beauty of the earth — 
 In wood and wild, by lake and sea. 
 To dwell with foot and spirit free — 
 
 Mary Howitt 
 
 " The day itself (in my opinion) seems 
 of more length aiid beauty in the country, 
 and can be better enjoyed than any where 
 else. There the years pass away calmly ; 
 and one day gently drives on the other, 
 insomuch that a man may be sensible of 
 a certain satiety and pleasure from every 
 hour, and may be said to feed upon time - 
 itself, which devours all other things ; and 
 although those that are employed in the 
 managing and ordering of their own eS' 
 tates in the country have otherwise, 
 namely^ by that very employment, much 
 more pleasure and delights than a citizen 
 can possibly have, yet verily, so it is, that 
 one day spent in the privacy and recess 
 of the country, seems ^lore pleasant and 
 lasting than a whole year at court. Justly, 
 then, and most deservingly, shall we ac- 
 count them most happy with whom the 
 sun stays longest, and lends a larger day. 
 The husbandman is always up and drest 
 with the morning, whose davming light, 
 at the same instant of time, breaks over 
 all the fields, and chaseth away the dark- 
 ness from every valley. If his day's task 
 keep him late in the fields, yet night 
 comes not so suddenly upon him, .but he 
 can return home with the evening-star. 
 Whereas, in towns and populous cities, 
 neither the day, nor the sun, nor a star, 
 nor the season of the year, can he well 
 perceived. All which, in the country, are 
 manifestly seen, and occasion a more exact 
 care and observation of seasons, that their 
 labours may be in their appointed times, 
 and their rewards accordingly."* 
 
 mas 27. 
 
 Let Mammon's sons with visage lean, 
 Restless and vigilant and keen, 
 Whose thought is but to buy and sell, 
 Tn the hot toiling city dwell, 
 
 h. m. 
 Mm/ 27. Sun rises .... 3 59 
 — sets .... 8 1 
 Red and yellow bachelors' buttons in full 
 flower. 
 
 Monks hood flowers. Ijs full blue 
 spike is conspicuous all the summer, . 
 
 Guevera, by Vaughan, 1651, 
 
63J 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 28, 29. 
 
 63$ 
 
 mavi 28. 
 
 Bidding to a Weddikg. 
 
 28th May, 1797.— '■' Bell's Weekly Mes- 
 senger" of this date contained the follow-' 
 ing advertisement : — 
 "May no miscarriage prevent my marriage'' 
 
 " Matthew Daws^oij, in Bothwell, 
 Cumberland, intends to be married at 
 Holm church, on the Thursday before 
 Whitsuntide next, whenever that may 
 happen, and to return to Bothwell to dine., 
 , " Mr. Reid gives a turkey to be roasted ; 
 Ed. Clementson gives a fat lamb to be 
 roasted ; Wm. Elliot gives a hen to be 
 roasted ; Jos. Gibson gives a fat calf to be 
 roasted. 
 
 " And, in order that all this roast meat 
 may be well basted,, do; you see Mary 
 Pearson, Betty Hodgson, Mary Bushley, 
 Molly Fisher, Sarah Brispoe, ; arid Betty 
 Portliouse, give, each o/ th^m,;a pound 
 of butter. The advertiser will providg 
 every thing else for so festive an occasion, 
 
 " And he hereby gives notice, > 
 
 " To ALL Young Women desiirous o{ 
 changing their condition, that ;he is at pre- 
 sent diserigaged; and advises ' them- to 
 consider, that altho' there be luck iij. 
 leisure, yet, in this case delays are dan- 
 gerous; for, with him, he is deterrnined it 
 shall be first come first served. 
 " So come along lasses who wish to be mar- 
 
 licil, 
 Matt. Dawson is vex'd that so long he has 
 
 tanicd." 
 
 The preceding invitation is stated to 
 be an extract ffohi the " Cumberland 
 Packet." 
 
 H. B. 
 
 anniversary of his Restoration, "as ther& 
 had usually been." 
 
 The Royal Oak. 
 
 In the sign or picture representing 
 Charles II., in the Royal Oak, escaping 
 the vigilaace of his pursuers, there are' 
 usually some eironeous particularities'ir 
 Though I am as far as any other Briton 
 can be from wishing to " curtail" his' 
 majesty's wig "of its fair proportion,", 
 yet I have sometimes been apt to think 
 it rather improper to make the wig, as is 
 usually done, of larger dimensions than 
 the tree in which it and his majesty are 
 concealed. It is a rule in logici and, I 
 believe, may hold good in most other 
 sciences, that " omne majus continet in 
 se minus," that " eveiy thing larger can 
 hold any thing that is less," but 1 own X 
 never heard the contra,ry advanced or de- 
 fended with any plaiisible arguments, viz. 
 " that every little thiiig can hold one 
 larger." I therefore humbly propose 
 that^ there shouljcl at least be an edge of 
 foliage round the outskirts of the said wig; 
 and that its curls should not exceed iri 
 number the leaves of tjie tree. There is 
 also another practice almost equally, pre- 
 valent, of vyhich I am sceptic enough to 
 (Joubt the propriety. I own I cannot 
 think it conductive to the more effectual 
 concealment of his majesty that there 
 should be three regal crowns stuck on 
 three different branches of the tree'. 
 Horace says, indeed. 
 
 h, m. 
 May 28. Sun rises .... 8 57 
 
 — sets 8 3 
 
 Long'Spiked wolfsbane flowers, and 
 tontinues till Au'gtist. 
 
 Midsumnier daisy flowers, biit not iri 
 full luxuriance tilUune,-. 
 The bugle begins to decline. 
 
 ; King Ch^kles II., Restoration. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn says, that in 1€86 the first 
 year of thjp-reign of- James II., and con- 
 sequently the first year after the. death of 
 Charles JI., there was no sermon on this 
 
 - Pktoiibus atqne poetis 
 
 Quidlibet audend.i semper fuit aequa potestas. 
 Painters and .Poets o.ur indulgence claim, 
 Their daring equal, and their art the same. 
 
 And this may be reckoned'a very allow- 
 able poetical licence; inasmuch' as it 
 lets the spectator into the secret, " who is 
 in the tree." But it is apt to make him 
 at the same time' throw the accusation of 
 negligence and want of penetration on the 
 three dragoons, 'who are usually -deipicted 
 on ■the fore ground, cantering along very 
 eonrposedly with serene countenances, 
 erect persons,, and drawn swords- very 
 little longer than themselves.* 
 
 Lawless Day at Exeter. 
 
 Of the origin of the custom on the 29th 
 of May which .1 am about to des,cribe, or 
 
 * The Microcosm. 
 
te7 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 29. 
 
 638 
 
 how long it has existed, I am unable to 
 give any information, and, as it is more 
 than a dozen years since I leil Exeter, I 
 am likewise ignorant whether it is dis- 
 continued or not. It is aiiserted and 
 believed by many of thfe Exoniaiis, that 
 the statutes "made and provided" take 
 no cognizance of any misdemeanors and 
 breaches of the peace, short of downright 
 rioting, on this day ; hence it has acquired 
 the cognomen of " Lawless Day," a name 
 every way appropriate to the proceedings 
 upon its celebration. 
 
 Early on the morning the bells at the 
 various churches ring merry peals, and 
 squads of the mischief-loviug part of the 
 mobility, with large bludgeons, haste to 
 different situations which they have pre- 
 viously selected for the scene of operations. 
 The stations are soon, but not always 
 peaceably occupied ; for it frequently hap- 
 pens that two parties have chosen the 
 same spot, and the right of possession is 
 decided by violent and obstinate contests. 
 As the day advances, and these prelim- 
 inaries are rightfully adjusted , by the, 
 weak giving place to the strong, the re- 
 gular business commences.;. The striulest 
 and most resolute remain to ^uard the 
 stations while the rest. are detached, and 
 busily employed in collecting mud, stopesl 
 •brick bats, old mats, hay, straw, and other 
 materials suitable to the purpose of form- 
 ing dams across the kennels for stopping 
 the water. These pools are sometimes as 
 much as two feet deep, and are called 
 bays. If the water does not accumulate 
 fast enough in these "bays," the defi- 
 4 I ciency is supplied by parties, who fetch 
 it from various parts^ in all kinds of ves- 
 sels, and, when they can get nothing better, 
 ': i in their hats. Any one acquainted with 
 Exeter, at the time to which I refer, will 
 be aware that a deficiency of slop could 
 not often occur, the streets and lanes being 
 mostly very steep and narrow, with deep 
 and iU-made kennels in the midst ; most 
 of the houses without drains, or even com- 
 mon conveniences ; and the' scavenger 
 being seldom in requisition, render that 
 city peculiarly adapted to the dirty sports 
 and mud larks of "lawless Day." At a 
 short distance from the " Bay," its foun- 
 daries are marked out ; and at eacti bay 
 one of the party belonging to it is stationed 
 10 solicit donations from passengers. If 
 a gift be refused he makes a signal by 
 whistling to his companions, and they 
 directly commence splashing and bedab- 
 bling most lustily, and render it impos- 
 
 sible for any one to pass by witliout a 
 thorough drenching ; but if a trifle, how- 
 ever small,' is bestowed, the donor is 
 allowed safe conduct, aiid three cheers for 
 liberality. Persons who are no enemies 
 to rough pastime sometimes throw a few 
 half-pence, into the water, and become 
 bystanders to enjoy the sight of th^ 
 snatching, raking, tumbling, and rolling of 
 the poor fellows, in their endeavours to find 
 the money, which, as fast as it is got, is 
 mostly spent at the nearest public house. 
 The effects of the liquor is soon perceived 
 in the conduct of the various parties. 
 The more they drink the more outrageous 
 they become, and it mostly happens that 
 the interference of the beadles and con- 
 stables is absolutely necessary to put an 
 end to the violence, by locking up some 
 of the ringleaders, who are thiis taught 
 that, if there is no law upon "Lawless 
 Day," there is law the next day. 
 
 IJpon " Lawless Day" the lawless rab-i 
 ble frequently drag out the parish engines, 
 and play them upon any on whom it is 
 presumed the trick can be practised with 
 impunity. This has been done even in 
 the principal streets. Towards the close' 
 of the day the stations are gradually de- 
 serted, one after the other, and the groups 
 who , occupied them, and have not spent 
 all the money they collected, go to the 
 public houses and drink it out. In tlie 
 mean time their vacant places in the streets 
 are eagerly taken possession of by ragged 
 cbildreii, who imitate the boisterous folly 
 of their elders. 
 
 J s S — LLM — N. 
 
 Jlfarc/i, 1831. 
 
 h. Tn. 
 May 29. Sun rises .... 3 56 
 — sets . . ..84 
 Oak Apple d(it/. The oak-apple is the 
 nest of an insecr, and being found about 
 this time, is worn by the vulgar to com- 
 memorate the concealment of Charles II. 
 in the oak. 
 .Perennial flax flowers. 
 
 iWap 30. 
 
 On this day, which is the anniversary 
 of the cruel execution of the maid of 
 Orleans in 143), it maybe noted that "An 
 edict of Louis XIII., dated in June 1614, 
 ordains that females descended from the 
 brothers of Joan of Arc shall no longer 
 ennoble their husbands. From this it ap- 
 
639 
 
 TUE YEAR BOOK.-MAY 31 
 
 040 
 
 pears that the nieces of this heroic female 
 had been honored with the singular pri 
 vilege of transmitting nobility. 
 
 h. m. 
 Mai/ 30. Sun rises .... 3 55 
 
 sets 8 5 
 
 Shady slopes are still blue with hae 
 bells, and meadows yellow with butter 
 cups. 
 
 Mavt 31. 
 
 31 May, 1723, died William Baxter, a 
 native of Shropsliire, and nephew of the 
 celebrated nonconformist, Richard Baxter. 
 He entered upon life unpromisingly: his 
 education had been wholly neglected ; he 
 could not even read when eighteen years 
 of age, nor understand any one language 
 jut Welsh ; yet he afterwards became; 
 not only a schoolmaster of great credit, 
 but a good linguist; and his. desire for 
 knowledge overcame all impediments. 
 He presided in the free school at Totten- 
 ham High-Cross, and was for twenty 
 years master of the Mercer's school of 
 London. He wrote a grammar published 
 
 in 1697, entitled " De Analogia seu 
 Arte LatinseLinguse Commentariolus ;"and 
 edited " Anacreon," with notes, printed 
 in 1695, and a second time, with con- 
 siderable improvements, in 1710 ; 
 and " Horace," which is still in esti- 
 mation with the learned. Besides these 
 works, he compiled a " Dictionary of the 
 British Antiquities," in Latin, and left im- 
 perfect a " Glossary of Roman Antiqui- 
 ties," a fragment of which has been since 
 published. He was engaged in an 
 English translation of Plutarch. The 
 " Philosophical Transactions," and the 
 first volume of the " Archaeologia," eon- 
 tain some of , his communications. He 
 had an accurate knowledge of the British 
 and Irish tongues, the northern and east- 
 ern languages, and Latin and Greek. The 
 Rev. Mr. Noble says, that Mr. Baxter 
 left his own life in manuscript, a copy of 
 which was in the library of the late Mr. 
 Tutet. 
 
 h. m. 
 May 31. Sun rises .... 3 54 
 — sets .... 8 6 
 Yellow lily flowers in the latter days of 
 this month. 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 The Progeess of a Thunder-Storm. 
 
 See ye the signals of his march ? — the flash 
 Wide-streaming ronnd ? The thunder of his voice 
 Hear ye ?— Jehovah's thunder? — the dread peel 
 Hear ye, that rends the concave ? 
 Lord 1 God supreme ! 
 Compassionate and kind I 
 
 Prais'd be thy glorious name 1 
 Prais'd and ador'd ! 
 
 How sweeps the whirlwind ! — leader of the storm I 
 How screams discordant ! and with headlong waves 
 Lashes the forest ! — All is now repose. 
 Slow sail the dark clouds — slow. 
 
 Again new signals press ; — enkindled, broad, 
 See ye the lightning ? — hear ye, from the clouds, 
 The thunders of the Lord 1 — Jehovah calls ; 
 Jehovah ! — and the smitten forest smokes. 
 But not our cot — 
 Our heavenly Father bade 
 Th' o'erwhelming power 
 Pass o'er our cot, and spare it. 
 
 KiopsTOCK, by Good 
 
T«e YEAR BOOK.^JUNE. 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 Vol. I.— 21. 
 
 The mowers now bend o'er the bearded grass — 
 The ploughman sweats along the fellow vales — 
 The Shepherd's leisure hours are over now. 
 No more be loiters ,'neath tlie hedge-row bough ; — 
 With whistle,, barking dogs, and chiding scold, 
 He drives the bleating sheep from fallow fold 
 To wash-pools, where the willow shadows lean, 
 Dashing them in, their stained coats to clean ; 
 Then, on the sunny sward, when dry again. 
 He brings them homeward to the. clipping pen. 
 
 Cliiie s Shepherd^t Calendar. 
 Y 
 
643 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE. M4 
 
 SPRING. 
 Spring, the year's youth, fair mother of new flowers, 
 New leaves, new loves, drawn by the winged hours, 
 Thou art return'd ; — but the felicity 
 Thou brought'st me last is not return'd with thee ; 
 Thou art returned, but nought returns with thee, 
 Save my lost joys — regretful memory — 
 Thou art the self-same thing thou wert before, 
 As fair and jocund : but I am no more 
 The thing I was so gracious in her sight, 
 Who is Heaven's masterpiece, and Earth's delight. 
 
 GuARiNi, by Sir R. Fanshawe. 
 
 June — it is une What yearnings for descriptive writers and poets call it " the 
 
 the enjoyment of pure air and sunshine, May."— The blowing of the flowers, and 
 
 in fresh meadows, are in the bosoms of the singing of the birds, make, with them, 
 
 the young, confined to the scorching the May of the year. How they rejoice 
 
 " plain brownbrick" dwellings of great in the season ! A few passages from them 
 
 cities — what delicious feelings arise in would be a picture of it. Listen to 
 
 hearts alive to nature — at the name and Drayton: 
 coming of this sweet month ! Our best 
 
 When Phoebus lifts his head out of the winter's wave, 
 
 No sooner doth the earth her flowery bosom brave. 
 
 At such time as the year brings on the pleasant spring, 
 
 But hunts-up to the morn the feather'd sylvans sing : 
 
 And in the lower grove, as on the rising. knoll. 
 
 Upon the highest spray of every mounting pole, 
 
 These quiristers are prickt with many a speckled breast j 
 
 Then from her burnisht gate the goodly glittering east 
 
 Gilds every lofty top, which late the humorous night 
 
 Bespangled had with pearl, to please the morning's sight; 
 
 On which the mirthful quires, with their clear open throats. 
 
 Unto the joyful morn so strain their warbling notes. 
 
 That hills and valleys ring, and even the echoing air 
 
 Seems all composed of sounds, about them every where. 
 
 The throstel with shrill sharps ; as purposely he sung 
 
 T' awake the listless sun ; or, chiding that so long 
 
 He was in coming forth, that should the thickets thrill; 
 
 The>woosel near at hand, that hath a golden bill ; 
 
 As nature him had markt of purpose t' let us see 
 
 That from all other birds his tune should different be ; 
 
 For, with their vocal sounds, they sing to pleasant May ; 
 
 Upon his dulcet pipe the marie doth only play. 
 
 When, in the lower brake, the nightingale hard by. 
 
 In such lataenting strains the joyful hours doth ply, 
 
 As though the other birds she to her tunes would draw. 
 
 And, but that nature (by her all-constraining law) 
 
 Each bird to her own kind this season doth invite. 
 
 They else, alone to hear the charmer of the night, 
 
 (The more to use their ears) their voices sure would spare, 
 
 That moduleth her tunes so admirably rarej 
 
 As man to set in parts at first had leam'd of her. 
 
 To philomel, the next, the linnet we prefer ; 
 
 And, by that warbling bird, the woodlark place we then^ 
 
 The red-sparrow, the nope, the red-breast, and the wren. 
 
 The yellow-pate ; which, though she hurt the blooming tree, 
 
 Yet scarce hath any bird a finer pipe than she. 
 
 And of these chanting fowls, the goldfinch not behindj 
 
 That hath so many sorts descending from her kindy 
 
«45 THE YEAft BOOK.— JUNE. 
 
 The tydy, for her notes as delicate as they, 
 The laughing hecco, then the counterfeiting jay 
 The softer -with the shrill (some hid among the leaves, 
 Some in the taller trees, some in the lower greaves), 
 Thus sing away the morn, until the mounting sun 
 Through thick exhaled fogs his golden head hath run. 
 And through the twisted tops of our close covert creeps 
 To kiss the gentle shade, this while that gently sleeps. 
 
 646 
 
 Delights of the Codntrt. 
 
 This privilege, above others, makes 
 
 Ihe countryman happy, that he hath 
 always something at hand which is both 
 useful and pleasant; a blessing which has 
 never been granted either to a courtier or 
 a citizen : they have enemies enough, but 
 few friends that desire their love, or that 
 they dare trust to, either for counsel or 
 action. O, who can ever fiiUy express 
 the pleasures and happiness of the country 
 life, vrith the various and delightful sports 
 of fishing, hunting, and fowling, with 
 guns, greyhounds, spaniels, and seve- 
 ral sorts of nets! What oblectation and 
 refreshment it is to behold the green 
 shades, the beauty and majesty of the 
 tall and ancient groves ; to be skilled in 
 planting and draining of orchards, flowers, 
 and pot-herbs ; to temper and allay these 
 harmless employments with some innocent 
 and merry song ; to ascend sometimes to 
 the fresh and healthful hills ; to descend 
 into the bosom of the valleys, and the 
 fragrant, devfy, meadows; to hear the 
 music of birds, the murmurs of bees, the 
 falling of springs, and the pleasant dis- 
 courses of the old ploughmen; where, 
 without any impediment or trouble, a 
 man may walk, and (as Cato Censorinus 
 used to say) discourse with the dead ; that 
 is, read the pious works of learned men, 
 who, departing this life, left behind them 
 their noble thoughts for the benefit of 
 posterity, and the preservation of their 
 own worthy names ; where the Christian 
 pious countryman may walk vrith the 
 learned, religious, minister of the parish, 
 or converse with his familiar faithful 
 friends, avoiding the dissimulation and 
 windiness of those that are blown up 
 with the spirit, and; under the pretence of 
 religion, commit all villanies. These are 
 the blessings which only a countryman is 
 ordained to, and are in vain wished for by 
 citizens and courtiers.* 
 
 • From Guevara, by Vaughan, 16S1. 
 
 The CouNTiiy Lipe. 
 
 Sweet country life, to such unknown. 
 
 Whose lives are others, not their own ! 
 
 But serving courts ami cities, be 
 
 Less happy, less enjoying thee. 
 
 Thou never ploughit the ocean's foam 
 
 To seek and bring lOugh pepper home ; 
 
 Nor to the eastern Ind dost rove. 
 
 To bring from thence the scorched clove , 
 
 Nor, with the loss of thy lov'd rest, 
 
 Bring'st home the ingot from.the west. 
 
 No ; thy ambition's master-piece 
 
 Flies no thought higher than a fleece ; 
 
 Or how to pay thy hinds, and clear 
 
 All scores, and so to end the year ; 
 
 But walk' St about thy own dear grounds. 
 
 Not craving others' larger bounds ; 
 
 For well thou know'st 'tis not th' «xtent 
 
 Of land makes life, but sweet content. 
 
 When now the cock, the ploughman's horn, 
 
 Calls for the lily-wristed mom. 
 
 Then to thy corn-fields thotl dost go; 
 
 Which, tho' well soil'd, yet thou dost know 
 
 That the best compost for the lands 
 
 Is the wise master's feet and hands. 
 
 There, at the plough, thou find'st thy team. 
 
 With a hind whistling there to them ; 
 
 And cheer'st them up by singing how 
 
 The kingdom's portion is the plough. 
 
 This done, then to th' enamelled meads 
 
 Thou go'st ; and, as thy foot there treads. 
 
 Thou seest a present godlike power 
 
 Imprinted in each herb and Sower ; 
 
 And smell'st the breath of great-eyed kine. 
 
 Sweet as the blossoms of the vine. 
 
 Here thou behold'st thy large, sleek neat, 
 
 Unto the dewlaps up in meat ; 
 
 And, as thou look'st, the wanton steer. 
 
 The heifer, cow, and ox; draw near. 
 
 To make a pleasing pastime there. 
 
 These seen, thou go'st to view thy flocks 
 
 Qf sheep, safe from the wolf and fox ; 
 
 And find'st their bellies there as full 
 
 Of short sweet grass, as backs with wool ; 
 
 And leavs't them, as they feed and fill ; 
 
 A shepherd piping on the hill. 
 
 For sports, for pageantry^ and playSj 
 
 Tbou hast thy eves and holy-days ; 
 
 On which the young men and maids meet 
 
 To exercise their dancing feet ; 
 
 Tripping the comely country round. 
 
 With daffodils and daisies crowned> ' 
 
 Thy wakes, thy gulntels, here thou hast. 
 
64r 
 
 TilE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE. 
 
 G48 
 
 Thy May-poles, too, with garland's graced j' - 
 Thy moiris-dance, thy Whitsun ale. 
 Thy shearing feast, which never fail ; 
 Thy harvest-home, thy wassail-bowl. 
 That's tost up after fox i' th' hole ; 
 Thy mummeries, thy twelfth-night kings 
 And queens, thy Christmas revellings ; 
 Thy nut brown mirth, thy russet wit. 
 And no man pays too dear forit. 
 To these thou hast thy time to go. 
 And trace the hare in the treacherous snow : 
 Thy witty wiles to draw, and gel 
 The lark into the trammel net ; 
 Thou hast thy cock rood, and thy glade. 
 To take the precious pheasant made ; 
 Thy lime-twigs, snares, and pitfalls, then. 
 To catch the pilfering birds, not men. 
 O happy life, if that their good 
 The husbandmen but understood ! 
 Who all the day themselves do please. 
 And younglings, with such sports as these ; 
 And, lying down, have nought t' afiright 
 Sweet sleep, that makes more short the night. 
 Herrick, 1648. 
 
 Every bough looked big with bless- 
 ings, and the florid fields and fragrant 
 meadows (adorned with green) sent forth 
 their sweet and redolent perfumes to re- 
 fresh the universe. Chanticleer then gave 
 the day a summons, and the early lark, 
 earlier than the sun, salutes the air, while 
 blushing Phoebus paints and gilds the 
 azure globe, whose celestial influence (by 
 refulgent magnetism) blest all the world 
 with prolific blessings ; so that the whole 
 creation began to vegetate, and every ve- 
 getation sent forth sweet aromas ; the birds 
 began now to build their nests, and every 
 bird to choose his mate, whilst the groves 
 and delightful springs, as also the ferests 
 and unfrequented deserts, celebrated the 
 fragrant spring ; when the frigid congela*- 
 tions of frost and snow were all struck 
 dead by the blazing fiery strokes of the 
 sun. The veirnon ingress smiled a bless- 
 ing, when she sent the melodious harinony 
 of birds to melt the air. The nightingale 
 ■with her warbling notes, the blackbird, 
 thrush, linnet, and golden jay, besides the 
 canary, and delicious bullfinch, filled all 
 the woods with their solitary strains ; and, 
 because beating the air with such propor- 
 tionable harmony, every bush became an 
 aviary, and every grove a mellifluous con- 
 cert ; whilst the purling springs, and more 
 shady riviilets, softened by the gentle 
 breathings of Zephyrus, seemed tacitly to 
 express a secret, whispering, silent praise.* 
 
 • Flanck's Northern Memoirs, 1658. 
 
 Vegetable Garden Dieectory. 
 Sow 
 
 Cucumbers, in the first week, if not 
 sown last month, and thin out those which 
 were sown, and have advanced so far as 
 to show the rough leaf. 
 
 Gourd-seeds, that species, particu- 
 larly, known by the name of vegetable 
 marrow : also the purakin. 
 
 Peas, Prussian blue; Knight's mar- 
 rowfats, early frame, and charlton, for 
 late crops. 
 
 Beans, the white blossom, for the 
 latest crop. 
 
 Kidn?y-beans, the dwarf and the run- 
 ners, in the first week, and again in the 
 course of the month, once or twice 
 
 In the second and third week, carrots 
 and onions, for drawiiig young; turnips 
 the white, yellow Dutch, and Swedish, 
 for the autumnal and winter crops. 
 
 In the fourth we^ek, endive, for a main 
 supply. 
 
 Plant 
 
 Potatoes, the kidneys, and other late 
 sorts, for winter crops ; slips of southern- 
 wood, lavender, hyssop, sage, and other 
 aromatic herbs. Choose a shady spot of 
 ground, and give water occasionally. 
 
 Transplant, 
 
 Towards the end of the month, cabbage, 
 broccoli, borecole, savoy, chiefly into 
 nursery-beds, but some to remain for 
 early supply. 
 
 Celery, into manured trenches, and 
 keep it well watered. 
 
 Leeks, into an open spot of ground, 
 six inches apart. 
 
 Stick 
 
 Peas; dig between the rows; draw 
 earth to their stems; hoe between all 
 drilled crops; destroy weeds, as fast as 
 they appear, and remove them to the 
 compost heaps. 
 
 Clear off 
 
 Cabbage-stalks, and all other kinds of 
 litter. 
 
 Gather 
 
 Mint, balm, sage, and other herbs that 
 are used in a dry state during the winter- 
 Such plants possess their full aroma just 
 before they expand the flower ; therefore 
 let that state be considered as an indica- 
 tion of the proper time for cutting them. 
 Cut them in dry weather, suspend the 
 cuttings, in open air, under a shed, and 
 sheltered from sun's rays. 
 
649 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 1. 
 
 A Word in June for the Dumb 
 Creation. 
 
 If you keep dogs, let them have free 
 access to water, and, if practicable, take 
 them out occasionally into the fields, and 
 let them have the opportunity of swim- 
 ming -whenever there is an opportunity. 
 If you keep birds, do not, as is too com- 
 monly practised, expose them in their 
 cages to a hot sun : it is a cruel and fatal 
 mistake. Birds unconfined seek the shelter 
 in sultry weather. If you do expose 
 them out of doors, cover the to of their 
 
 650 
 
 cages with a piece of carpet, or, which 
 is better, a green sod, or abundance of 
 leaves. Those who have the care of 
 horses should be especially attentive, 
 during sultry weather, to give them water, 
 or to moisten their mouth. We have 
 often been shocked to see some of the 
 laboring horses, in sultry and dusty wea- 
 ther, foaming at the mouth, and laboring 
 under symptons of the intolerable tor- 
 ments of thirst.* 
 
 Caledonian Mercury, July, 1826. 
 
 Invitation. 
 
 Come ye, come ye, to the green, green wooc ; 
 
 Loudly the blackbird is singing. 
 The squirrel is feasting on blossom and bud. 
 Aid the curled fern is springing ; 
 Here ye may sleep 
 In the moss so deep. 
 While the moon is so warm and so weary, 
 And sweetly awake 
 As the sun through the brake 
 Bids the fauvette and white-throat sing cheery. 
 The quicken is tufted with blossom of snow. 
 And is throwing its perfume around it; 
 The wryneck replies to the cuckoo's halloo. 
 For joy that again she has found it ; 
 The jay's red breast 
 Peeps over her nest. 
 In the midst of the crab-blossoms blushing ; 
 And the call of the pheasant 
 Is frequent and pleasant. 
 When all other calls are hushing. 
 
 HowiTT. 
 
 Slum 1. 
 
 The Anniversary 
 
 Of Lord Howe's victory over the French 
 fleet in 1794 — 
 
 Also, of the great sea-fight in 1666, be- 
 tween the English fleet, commanded by 
 the Duke of Albemarle and Prince Ru- 
 pert, against the Dutch under De Ruyter 
 and Van Tromp. 
 
 Relating to the arrival of intelligence of 
 this latter battle, and the actors in it, there 
 are some amusing memoranda, in Pepys' 
 diary ; which will bear epitome and 
 extract : — 
 
 " June 2. Up, and to the office, where 
 certain news is brought us of a letter come 
 to the king this morning from the Duke of 
 Albemarle, dated yesterday at eleven 
 o'clock, that they were in sight of the 
 
 Dutch fleet, and were fitting themselves 
 to fight them ; so that they are, ere this, 
 certainly engaged ; besides, several do 
 vaer that they heard the guns yesterday in 
 the afternoon. This put us at the board 
 into a toss. — Presently come orders for 
 our sending away to the fleet a recruit of 
 two hundred soldiers. To the victualling 
 office, and thence upon the river among 
 several vessels to consider of the sending 
 them away. [A consideration and sending 
 too late, by the by.] To Greenwich, 
 ordered two yachts to be ready, and did 
 order the soldiers to march to Blackwall. 
 Down to Blackwall, and there saw the 
 soldiers, (who were by this time getting, 
 most of them, drunk,) shipped oS. But, 
 Lord ! to see how the poor fellows kissed 
 their wives and sweethearts in that simpie 
 manner at their going off, and shouted. 
 
651 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE I. 
 
 652 
 
 and let off their guns, was strange sport. 
 3d. [Further news]— 4th. To Whitehall, 
 saw a letter dated last night, from Strowd, 
 governor of Dover Castle, which says, that 
 the guns which we writ that we heard is 
 only a mistake for thunder. It is a mi- 
 raculous thing that we, all Friday, and 
 Saturday, and yesterday, did hear every 
 where most plainly the guns go off, and 
 yet at Deal and Dover, to last night, they 
 did not hear one word of a fight, nor 
 think they heard one gun. This makes 
 room for a great dispute in philosophy, 
 how we should hear it and they not. — I 
 home; where news is brought me of a 
 couple of men come to speak with me 
 from the fleet ; so I down, and who should 
 it be but Mr. Daniel, all muffled up, and 
 his face as black as a chimney, and 
 covered with dirt, pitch, and- tar, and 
 powder, and his right eye stopped with 
 okum — he is come last night at five o'clock 
 from the fleet, with a comrade that hath 
 'endangered the other eye. They were set 
 on shore at Harwich this morning, at two 
 o'clock, in a ketch, with more wounded ; 
 they being able to ride took post about 
 three and were here between eleven and 
 twelve ; went presently into the coach 
 with them to the privy stairs — I into the 
 park to the king — the king mightily 
 pleased — and he, walking into the house, 
 I went and fetched the seamen into 
 the same room to him, and there he 
 heard the whole account [a very meagre 
 one] — the king did pull out of his 
 pocket about twenty pieces in gold, and 
 did give it Daniel for him and his com- 
 panion ; we parted from him and th^n 
 met the Duke of York and gave him the 
 same account, and so broke up, and I left 
 them going to the surgeons. 5th. No 
 manner of news this day. 6th. An ex- 
 press to Sir W. Coventry, how upon Mon- 
 day the two fleets fought all day till seven 
 at night, and then the whole Dutch fleet 
 did betake themselves to a very plain flight 
 and never looked back again. The Duke 
 ran with it to the king, who was gone to 
 chapel, and there all the court was in a 
 hubbub, being rejoiced over head and ears 
 in this good news. Away go I, by coach, 
 to the New Exchange, and there did spread 
 the good news a little, and so home to our 
 own church, just before sermon; but 
 Lord ! how all the people in the church 
 stared to see me whisper to Sir John 
 Minnes and my Lady Penn, and by and 
 by up comes the sexton to tell me the 
 news, which I had brought; but that 
 
 which pleased me as much as the news 
 was to have the fine Mrs. Middleton at 
 our church, who is indeed a very beautiful 
 lady — Idled away the whole night till 
 twelve at the bonfires in the streets ; the 
 joy of the city exceedingly great for the 
 victory, 7th. Up betimes and to my office, 
 my Lord Brouncker and Sir T. H. come 
 from court to tell me the contrary news, 
 that we are beaten, lost many ships, and 
 good commanders have not taken one ship 
 of the enemy's, and so can only report 
 ourselves a victory. This news so much 
 troubled me, and the thoughts of the 
 ill consequences of it, and the pride and 
 presumption that brought us to it. By 
 and by comes Mr. Wayth ; he tells me 
 plainly from Capt. Page's own mouth, 
 who lost an arm in the fight, that the Dutch 
 did pursue us two hours before they left 
 us. The duke did give me several letters 
 he had received from the fleet, and I do 
 find great reason to think that we are 
 beaten in every respect. 8th. Lord ! to 
 see how melancholy the curst is, under 
 the thoughts of this last overthrow, for, 
 so it is, instead of a victory, so much and so 
 unreasonably expected. 10th. Pierce, the 
 surgeon, who is lately come from the fleet 
 tells me, that all the officers and even the 
 common seamen do condemn every part of 
 the conduct of the Duke of Albemarle; 
 both in his fighting at all, running among 
 them in his retreat, and running the ships 
 aground ; he says all the fleet confess 
 their being chased home by the Dutcli, 
 and yet that the Duke of Albemarle is as 
 high as ever ; and pleases himself to think 
 that he hath given the Dutch their bellie 
 full ; and talks how he knows now the 
 way to beat them. Even Smith himself, 
 one of his creatures, did him.<PElf condemn 
 the conduct from beginning to end. We 
 are endeavouring to raise money by bor- 
 rowing it of the dity, but I do not think 
 the city will lend a farthing. There is 
 nothing but discontent among the officers. 
 This evening we hear that Sir Christopher 
 Mings is dead, of his late wounds. 11th. 
 I went with my Lady Penn to see Harman, 
 whom we find lame in bed ; his bones of 
 his ancles are broke ; he did plainly tell 
 me that, at the council of war before the 
 fight, it was against his reason, and the rea- 
 sons of most sober men there, to begin the 
 fight then ; the wind being such that they 
 could not use the lower tier of guns. 12th. 
 I was invited to Sir Christopher Mings's 
 funeral. — Then out with Sir W. Coventry 
 and went with liim into his coach. Then 
 
653 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 9. 
 
 654 
 
 happened this extraordinary case, one of 
 the most romantic that ever I heard of in 
 my Hfe. Aboat a dozen able, lusty, pro- 
 per men, came to the coach side with tears 
 in their eyes, and one of them that spoke 
 for the rest began, and said to Sir W. 
 Coventry : ' We are here a dozen of us, 
 that have long known, loved, and served 
 our dead commander, Sir Robert Mings, 
 and have now done the last office of lay- 
 ing him in the ground. We would be 
 glad we had any other to offer after him, 
 and in revenge of him. All we have is 
 our lives ; if you will please to get his 
 royal highness to give us a fireship among 
 us all, here are a dozen of us, out of all 
 which choose you one to be commander, 
 and the rest of us, whoever he is, will serve 
 him ; and if possible, do that which shall 
 show our memory of our head commander 
 and our revenge.' Sir W. Coventry was 
 herewith much moved (as well as I, who 
 could hardly refrain from weeping), and 
 took their names, telling me he would 
 move his royal highness as in a thing very 
 extraordinary. The truth is Sir Christo- 
 pher Mings was a very stout man, of great 
 parts, and was an excellent tongue among 
 ordinary men ; and could have been the 
 most useful man at such a pinch of time 
 as this. He was come iato great renown 
 here at home, and more abroad in the West 
 Indies. He had brought his family into a 
 way of being great ; but, dying at this 
 time, his memory and name (his father 
 being always and at this day a shoemaker, 
 and his mother a hoyman's daughter, of 
 which he was used frequently to boast), 
 will be quite forgot in a few months, as if 
 he had never been, nor any of his name 
 be the better by it ; he having not had 
 time to will any estate, but is dead poor 
 rather than rich.— 16th. The king, Duke 
 of York, and Sir W. Coventry, are gone 
 down to the fleet. The Dutch do inightily 
 insult of their victory, and they have great 
 reason. Sir William Berkeley was killed 
 before his ship was taken ; and there [in 
 Holland] he lies dead in a sugar chest, for 
 every body to see, vrith his flag standing 
 up by him ; and Sir George Ascue is car- 
 ried up and down the Hague for people 
 to see. 
 
 Both Pepys and Evelyn agree in ascrib- 
 ing this natural disaster to the msconduct 
 of the Duke of Albemarle. That he was 
 defeated there is no doubt. Or the 17th 
 of June, Evelyn says in his diary, " I 
 went on shore at Sheerness, where they 
 were building an arsenal for the fleet, and 
 
 designing a royal fort with a receptacle 
 for great ships to ride at anchor ; but here 
 I beheld the sad spectacle — more than 
 half that gallant bulwark of the kingdom 
 miserably shattered, hardly a vessel entire, 
 but appearing rather so many wrecks and 
 hulls, so cruelly had the Dutch mangled 
 
 ■ Why do I my brain 
 
 Perplex -with the dull polices of Spain, 
 Or q^uick designs of France ! Why not repair 
 To the pure innocence o' th* country air, 
 And, neighbour thee, dear friend 1 who so 
 
 do'st give 
 Thy thoughts to worth and virtue, that to live 
 Blest is to trace thy ways. There might not we 
 Arm against passion with philosophy ; 
 And by the aid of leisure, so control 
 Whate'er is earth in us, to grow all soul ? 
 Knowledge doth ignorance engender, when 
 We study mysteries of other men. 
 And foreign plots. Do but in thy ovm shade 
 (Thy head upon some floVry pillow laid. 
 Kind Nature's housewifery), contemplate all 
 His stratagems, who labours to enthrall 
 The world to his great master, and you'll 6nd 
 Ambition mocks itself, and grasps the wind. 
 Not conquest makes us great^ blood is too dear 
 A price for glory : Honour doth appear 
 To statesmen like a vision in the night. 
 And, juggler-like, works o* th' deluded sight. 
 Th' unbusied only wise : for no respect 
 Endangers them to error j they affect 
 Truth in her naked beauty, and behold 
 Man with an equal eye, not bright in gold. 
 Or tall in title ; so much him they weigh 
 As virtue raiseth him above his clay. 
 Thus let us valne things : and since we find 
 Time bend us towards death, let's in our mind 
 Create new youth ; and arm against the rude 
 Assaults of age ; that no dull solitude 
 O' th' country dead our thoughts, nor busy 
 
 care 
 O' th' towns make us to think, where now 
 
 we are 
 And whither we are bound. Time ne'er 
 
 forgot 
 His JT>umey, though his steps we uumber'd 
 
 not. 
 
 W. Habmgtm, 1635. 
 
 Jurtf 1. 
 
 Sun rises 
 — sets 
 
 h. m. 
 3 53 
 8 7 
 
 •,* All Twilioht — no real Night — 
 during the whole of this month. 
 
 Blue-bottle, and Bufi"-bottle flower. 
 Variegated Flower de luce, and Yellow 
 flag, flower. 
 
 Hoses begin to blow in succession. 
 
655 
 
 THE 'iEAR BOOK.— JUNE 1. 
 
 6S6 
 
 GERMAN WATCH SONGS 
 
 The Minnesingers, or German Trou- 
 budours, were fond of a speoies of ballad 
 called " wachterlieder" or watchsongs, 
 many of which possess great sprightliness 
 and beauty of description. The engrav- 
 ing, from an illumination in the Manesse 
 MS., is to represent " Her Kristan von 
 Hamle," Christian of Harale, a minne- 
 singer vfho flourished about the middle 
 of the thirteenth century. This design 
 would seem a fit illustration for a watch- 
 song. The watchsongs generally begin 
 wit)) 3 parley between the sentinel or 
 
 watch of the castle, and the love-stricken 
 knight who seeks a stolen interview with 
 his lady. The parties linger in taking 
 leave; the sentinel is commonly again in- 
 troduced to warn them of the .signs of ap- 
 proaching morn, and a tender parting 
 ensues. Two specimens are subjoined, 
 both of which are anonymous. The ex- 
 cellent translation of the second is, with 
 two or three trifling alterations, borrowed 
 from the " Illustrations of Northern An- 
 tiquities;'' it would be difficult fpr any 
 one to execute a better. — There are pieces 
 
657 
 
 fllE YEAR BOOK— JUNE 1. 
 
 658 
 
 of a somewhat similar character among 
 the Troubadours, and called by them 
 albas or aubades. 
 
 The original of the following is given 
 in the collection published by Gtirres; 
 but he has neither mentioned the author's 
 name, nor the source whence he took it. 
 
 Watchsokg. 
 
 The sun is gone down. 
 
 And the moon upwards springeth, 
 The night creepeth onward. 
 
 The nightingale singeth. 
 To himself said a watchman, 
 
 <* Is any knight waiting 
 In pain for his lady. 
 
 To give her his greeting ? 
 
 "Now then for their meeting,*' 
 
 His words heard a knight 
 
 In the garden while roaming. 
 
 '* Ah ! watchman," he said, 
 ** Is the daylight fast coming. 
 
 And may I not see her. 
 
 And wilt thou not aid me 2" 
 
 " Go wait in thy covert 
 
 Lest the cock crow reveillie, 
 
 And the dawn should betray thee. ' 
 
 Then in went that watchman 
 
 And call'd for the fair. 
 And gently he rous'd heiv— 
 
 *' Rise, lady ! prepare ! 
 New tidings I bring thee. 
 
 And strange to thine ear ; 
 Come rouse thee up quickly. 
 
 Thy knight tarries near ] 
 
 Rise, lady \ appear !** 
 
 ** Ah, watchman ! though purely 
 
 The moon shines above. 
 Yet trust not securely - 
 
 That feign'd tale of love : 
 Far, far from my presence 
 
 My own knight is straying ; 
 And sadly repining 
 
 mourn his lox^ spying. 
 
 And weep his delaying." 
 
 Nay, lady ! yet trust me. 
 
 No falsehood is there." 
 Thpn up sprang that lady 
 
 And braided her hair. 
 And donn'd her white garment. 
 
 Her purest of white ; 
 4nd, her heart with joy trembling. 
 
 She rt^h'd to the sight 
 
 Of her own faithful knight. 
 
 The following is another and the best 
 specimen perhaps that is known of watch- 
 songs; the original has been printed in 
 » Wunderhorn," an interesting, but very 
 
 inaccurate, coljection of ancient German 
 popular poetry. 
 
 I heard before the dawn of day 
 The watchman loud proclaim ; — 
 
 *' If any knightly lover stay 
 In secret with his damo. 
 
 Take heed, the sun will soon appear ; 
 
 Then fly, ye knights, your ladies dear. 
 Fly ere the daylight daiwn. 
 
 ** Brightly gleams the firmament. 
 
 In silve^ splendor gay. 
 Rejoicing that the night is spent 
 
 The lark salutes the day : 
 Then fly, ye lovers, and be gone f 
 Take leave before the night is done. 
 
 And jealous eyes appear." 
 
 That watchman's call did wound my heart. 
 
 And banishM my delight : 
 " Alas, the envious sun will part 
 
 Our loves, my lady bright." 
 On me she look'd with downcast eye. 
 Despairing at my mournful cry, 
 
 " We tarry here too long." 
 
 Straight to the wicket did she speed ; 
 
 *' Good watchman spare the joke ! 
 Warn not my love, till o'er the mead 
 
 The morning sun has broke ; 
 Too short, alas ! the time, since here 
 I tarried with my leman dear. 
 
 In love and converse sweet." 
 
 " Lady, be warn'd ! on roof and mead 
 
 U'he dew-drops glitter gay j 
 Then quickly bid thy leAian speed. 
 
 Nor linger till the day; 
 For by the twilight did I mark 
 Wolves hyeing to their covert dark. 
 
 And stags to covert fly," 
 
 Now by the rising sun I viewM 
 
 In tears my lady's face : 
 She gave me many a token good> 
 
 And many a soft embrace. 
 Our parting bitterly we moum'd ; 
 The hearts which erst "With rapture bum 
 
 Were cold with woe and care. 
 
 A ring, with glittering ruby red. 
 
 Gave me that lady sheen. 
 And with me from the castle sped 
 
 Along the meadow green : 
 And, whilst I saw my leman bright. 
 She waved on high her 'kerchief white . 
 
 " Courage ! to arms !" she cried. 
 
 In the raging fight each pennon white 
 
 Reminds me of her love ; 
 In the field of blood, with mourful mood, 
 
 I see her 'kerchief move ; 
 Through foes I hew, whene'er I view 
 Her ruby ring, and blithely sing, 
 
 *' Lady, I fight for thee." 
 
 Lays of the Minnesingeri. 
 
659 
 
 THE YEAIl BOOK.— JUNE 2 
 
 C60 
 
 7 
 
 Sum 2. 
 
 / Pett, the Miseh. 
 
 J. On the 2nd of June, 1803, died Tho- 
 
 iuias Pett, a native of Warwickshire. At 
 *^^.years old he came to London with a 
 
 ^^toseJh*, shilling in his pocket. As he 
 Thaygitiier friends nor relations in the 
 
 All c;jtal, he was indebted to the humanity 
 Cyan old woman, who sold pies, for a 
 
 ■*°/orsel of bread, till he could procure 
 
 yBimself a crust. In the course of a few 
 
 / days he was engaged as an errand boy by 
 a tallow-chandler, whose wife could not 
 reconcile herself to his rustic manners 
 and awkward gait ; she dismissed him 
 , one cold winter's evening, with this ob- 
 servation : " Your master hired you in 
 my absence, and I'll pack you off in his." 
 Her good husband did not desert Tom; 
 he found him out, and bound him appren- 
 tice to a butcher, in the borough of South- 
 wark, where he behaved so well during 
 his apprenticeship, that his master recom- 
 mended him, when he was out of his 
 time, as a journeyman to another of the 
 trade, in Clare Market. For the first 
 five years he was engaged at twenty-five 
 pounds a year, meat and drink. The 
 accumulation and keeping of money were 
 the two sole objects of his thoughts. His 
 expenses were reduced to three heads — 
 lodging, clothing, and washing. He took 
 a back room on the second floor, with 
 one window, which occasionally a<^mitted 
 a straggling sunbeam. Every article of 
 his dress was second-hand, nor was he 
 choice in the cplor or quality : he jocosely 
 observed, when twitted on his garb, that, 
 Recording to Solomon, there was nothing 
 new undef the sun ; that color was a mere 
 matter of fancy; and that the best was 
 |hat which stuck longest to its integrity. 
 On wasliing, he used to say a man did 
 ^lot deserve a shirt that would not wash 
 ijt himself; and that the only fault he had 
 io find with Lord North was the duty he 
 imposed on soap. One expense, how- 
 pver, lay heavy on his mind, and robbed 
 him of many a night's sleep; this was, 
 ^having : he often lamented that he had 
 not learned to shave himself; but he de- 
 rived consolation from hoping that beards 
 Vvould one day be in fashion, and the 
 Bond-street loungers be driven to wear 
 ariificidl ones. 
 
 He made a rash vow one night, when 
 he was very thirsty, that as soon as he 
 had accumulated a thousand pounds he 
 would treat himself to a pint of porter 
 
 every Saturday : this he was soon enabled 
 to perform ; but when an additional duty 
 was laid on beer, he sunk to half a pint, 
 which he said was sufficient for any man 
 who did not wish to get drunk, and die 
 in a workhouse. 
 
 If he heard of an auction in the neigh- 
 bourhood, he was sure to run for a cata- 
 logue, and, when he had collected a 
 number of these together, he used to sell 
 them for waste paper. 
 
 When he was first told that the bank 
 was restricted from paying in specie, he 
 shook loudly, as Klopstock says, took to 
 his bed, and could not be prevailed on to 
 taste a morsel, or wet his lips, till he was 
 assured that all was right. 
 
 On Sundays, after dinner, he used to 
 lock himself up in his room, and amuse 
 himself with reading an old newspaper, 
 or writing rhimes, many of which he left 
 behind him on slips of paper. The fol- 
 lowing is a specimen of his talents in this 
 way : — 
 
 On hearing that Small Beer uiaa rained. 
 
 They've rais'd the price of tabic drink ; 
 What is the reason, do yo think ? 
 The tax on malt, the cause I hear ; 
 But what has malt to do with table beer } 
 
 He was never known, even in the 
 depth of the coldest winter, to light a 
 fire in his room, or to go to bed by candle- 
 light. 
 
 He was a great friend to good cheer at 
 the expense of another. Every man, 
 said he, ought to eat when he can get it 
 — an empty sack cannot stand. 
 
 If his thirst at any time got the better 
 of bis avarice, and water was not at 
 hand, he would sometimes venture to step 
 into a public house, and call for a penny- 
 worth of beer. On those trying occasions 
 he always sat in the darkest corner of the 
 tap-room, in order that he might drink in 
 every thing that was said with thirsty ear. 
 He was seldom or ever known to utter a 
 word, unless Bonaparte or a parish dinner 
 were mentioned, and then he would draw 
 a short contrast between French kickshaws 
 and the roast beef and plum-pudding o{ 
 Old England, which he called the staple 
 commodity of life. He once purchased 
 a pjnt of small beer; but, the moment he 
 locked it up in his closet, he repented, 
 tore the hair out of his wig, and threw the 
 key out of the window, lest he should be 
 tergpted, in some unlucky moment, tp 
 make too free with it. 
 
 Pett's pulse, for the last twenty years 
 
661 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 3. 
 
 t^6 
 
 of his life, rose and fell with the funds. 
 He never lay down or rose that he did 
 not bless the first inventor of compound 
 interest. 
 
 His constant saying was, that gold was 
 the clouded cane of youth, and the crutch 
 of ofd age. 
 
 For forty-two years he lived in Clare 
 Market as journeyman batcher; and 
 lodged thirty years in one gloomy apart- 
 ment, which was never brightened up with 
 coal, candle-light, or the countenance of 
 a visitant. 
 
 He never treated man, woman, or child, 
 to a glass of any kind of liquor — never 
 lent or borrowed « penny — never spoke 
 ill or well of any one — and never ate a 
 morsel at his own expense. 
 
 About three days before his dissolution, 
 he was pressed by his employer to make 
 his will. He reluctantly assented, but 
 observed, as he signed his name, that it 
 was a hard thing that a man should sign 
 away all his property with a stroke of a 
 pen. He left £2475 in the three per 
 cents, to distant relations, not one of 
 whom he had ever seen or corresponded 
 with. About half an hour before he died 
 he wanted to bargain for a coffin. 
 
 The following inventory of Pett's goods 
 and chattels was taken after his death. 
 
 An old bald wig. 
 
 A hat as limber as a pancake. 
 
 Two shirts that might pass for fishing- 
 nets. 
 
 A pair of stockings embroidered with 
 threads of different colors. 
 
 A pair of shoes, or rather sandals. 
 
 A bedstead instead of a bed. 
 
 A toothless comb. 
 
 An almanack out of all date. 
 
 A ricketty chair. 
 
 A leafless table. 
 
 A looking-gla* that survived the power 
 of reflection. 
 
 A leathern bag with a captive guinea.* 
 
 Jwi£ 2. Sun rises . . . 
 — sets' . . . 
 Corn-flag flowers. 
 Rough dandelion flowers. 
 Garden pinks flower. 
 Garden rose flowers. 
 Fraxinella flowers. 
 
 h. m. 
 3 52 
 8 8 
 
 Yellow garlic flowers. y 
 
 Particolored flag, and most of the Ii? 
 
 tribe, now come into blow. _j< i 
 
 ^*^-,l 
 
 — — 'nHotiPt 
 
 -J to be 
 
 SJUne 3. k house. 
 
 ^OGC16S 
 
 The NjcniiNGALE in 1831. i, ^j 
 
 27th April, 183?ns 
 Friend Hone, ^^ 
 
 As you are, like me, fond of the son^^ 
 of Philomel, and may have as little leisure 
 to go far to hear it, I give you notice-that 
 the nightingale was heard this year on the 
 17lh of March, at Dartford, and may now 
 be heard in fiiU song near London. 
 
 On Monday morning, at day-break, I 
 walked in company with a catcher (!) 
 firom Dartford to New Cross : he had been 
 out for his third and last trip, and had 
 sixteen with him, making forty-three birds 
 caught since the 9th. All the way, on 
 each side of the road, he called, and they 
 answered him ; so that I think at least 
 twenty must have sung. They are now 
 laired, and not worth catching, so the 
 lovers of song may have a treat. 
 
 There is one at the end of the College, 
 Blackheath Comer, the best I ever heard, 
 and I suppose by this time they are to be 
 found in Kensington Gardens ; for they 
 appeared to be travelling westward. The 
 birds the catcher had were very lean. 
 
 Those who wish to hear nightingales in 
 the day time may be gratified by going to 
 Champion Hill, leading to Lordship-lane : 
 I heard four yesterday at two o'clock. 
 There is a beautiful view over Norwood, 
 Dulwich, &c., from that spot : the sight of 
 the green trees, the rich grass, and the 
 hearing of those birds, with the song of a 
 good robin, and some few chaffinches, 
 joined to the warble of a fine lark, is 
 worth the while of any one who has 
 " music in his soul," and an eye for the 
 beauties of nature. 
 
 S. R. J. 
 
 Stanzas. 
 
 » Wilson's Polyanthea, ii.-210. 
 
 'Twas summei, — through the opening grass 
 
 The joyous flowers upsprang. 
 The birds in all their different tribes 
 
 Loud in the woodlands sang : 
 Then forth I went, and wandered far 
 
 The wide green meadow o'er ; 
 Where cool and clear the fountain play'd, 
 
 There strayed I in that hoar. 
 
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 4. 
 
 064 
 
 T' oaming on, tne nightingale 
 
 Sang sweetly in my ear ; 
 ]A.nd, by the greenwood's shady side, 
 
 i A dream came to me there ; 
 1 inS^Tthe fountain, where bright flowers 
 
 ^' y ea rkling hue we see. 
 Close 3'^'jltered from the summer heat, 
 
 Thay/ision came to me. 
 All c;ire was banished, and repose 
 
 C'Ame o'er my wearied breast ; 
 An4 kingdoms seemed to wait on me. 
 
 /For 1 was with the blest, 
 ^et, while it seemed as if away 
 
 My spirit soared on high, 
 And in the boundless joys of heaven 
 
 Was wrapt in ecstacy. 
 E'en then, my body revelled still 
 
 In earth's festivity ; 
 And surely never was a dream 
 
 So sweet as this to me. — VoGELWEIDE. 
 
 h. m. 
 June 3. Sun rises . . . • 3 51 
 — sets .... 8 9 
 Long spiked larkspur flowers. 
 Purple wolfsbane flowers. 
 Pimpernel, in some places called Win- 
 copipe, flowers in stubble fields and its 
 closing flowers foretell rain 
 
 Igune 4. 
 
 Birth Day of King George III. 
 Edinburgh Celebration. 
 
 From the time of the Restoration, when 
 the magistrates celebrated the " glorious 
 twenty-ninth of May" upon a public stage 
 at the Cross, down to the year 1810, when 
 the last i'.lness of King George III. threw 
 a damp over the spirits of the nation at 
 large, Edinburgh was remarkable for her 
 festive observance of the " King's Birth- 
 Day." 
 
 By the boys, in particular, the " Fourth 
 of June" used to be looked forward to 
 with the most anxious anticipations of 
 delight. Six months before that day, they 
 had begun to save as many of their 
 " Saturday's half-pence" as could pos- 
 sibly be spared from present necessities; 
 and, for a good many weeks, nothing was 
 thought of but the day, and nothing was 
 done but making preparations for it. 
 White-washing and partly-painting stair- 
 Jits was one of the principal preparations. 
 A club of boys, belonging perhaps to the 
 same stieet, or close, or land, would pitch 
 upon a particular stair-Jit, or, if that was 
 not to be had, a piece of ordinary dead 
 wall, as much out of the way as possible ; 
 and this became, for the time, the object 
 
 of all their attentions, and their ordinary 
 place of meeting. Here, upon the great 
 day, they were to muster all their arms 
 and ammunition, kindle a fire, and amuse 
 themselves from morning to night, with 
 crackers, serpents-, squibs, and certain 
 Lilliputian pieces of ordnance, mounted 
 upon the ends of sticks, and set off with 
 matches or pee-oys. 
 
 For a fortnight immediately before the 
 day, great troops of boys used to go out 
 of town, to the Braid and Pentland hills, 
 and bring home whins for buski7ig the 
 lamp-posts, which were at that period of 
 the year stripped of their lamps, — as well 
 as boughs for the adornment of the 
 "bower-like" stations which they had 
 adapted for their peculiar amusement, 
 whom had come from a great distance, to 
 Of course, they were not more regular in 
 these forages than the magistrates were 
 with edicts, forbidding and threatening to 
 punish the same. 
 
 One of the most important prelimi- 
 naries of the Birth-day was the decora- 
 tion with flowers of the statue of King 
 Charles in the Parliament-square. This 
 was always done by young men who had 
 been brought up in Heriot's hospital, — 
 otherwise " Auld Herioters," — who were 
 selected for this purpose, on account of the 
 experience they had in dressing the statue 
 of George lleriot, with flowers on his 
 birth-day, which was always held on the 
 first Monday of June. 
 
 The morning of the birth-day was 
 ushered in by firing of the aforesaid 
 pieces of ordnance, to the great annoy- 
 ance of many a Lawn-market and Luck- 
 enbooths * merchant, accustomed, time 
 out of mind, to be awaked four hours 
 later by the incipient squall of the saut- 
 wives and fish-wives at eight o'clock. As 
 for the boys, sleep of course had not 
 visited a single juvenile eye-lid during the 
 whole night; and it was the same thing 
 whether they lay in bed, or were up and 
 out of doors at work. Great pirt of the 
 morning was spent in kindling the hane- 
 Jires, preparing the ammunition, and 
 
 * The obscure and long-disputed word, 
 Luckenbooths, is evidently derived from 
 Lucken, close or shut ; and bootlis, shops or 
 places for exposing merchandise. This an- 
 cient row of houses must have been originally 
 distinguished from other booths, by being shut 
 in all round, instead of having one side open 
 to the street. All shops may now be said to 
 be luckenbooths. 
 
665 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 4> 
 
 666 
 
 adorning. the public wells with evergreens. 
 The wells thus honored were the Bow- 
 head, Lawn-market, Cross, and Fountain 
 Wells ; and, besides branches of trees, 
 there was always an oiUpainting hung at 
 the top, or a straw-stuffed figure set up 
 against the bottom. Both around the 
 fires and the wells were great groups of 
 boys, who busied themselves in annoying 
 the passengers with cries of "Mind the 
 
 Bane-fire !" or " mind ," the person 
 
 whoever he might be, that wos repieented 
 by the painting or the effigy. A half- 
 penny was a valuable acquisition, and of 
 course added to the general stock of the 
 company, to be expended in the purchase 
 of gun-powder. These elegant exhibi- 
 tions were the wonder and admiration of 
 many a knot of country-people, some of 
 witness the "fun" and the "frolics" of 
 the King's Birth-day. 
 
 About seventy years ago, it was cus- 
 tomary to fix figures of the sun, the moon, 
 and thi globe, upon the top of the Cross- 
 well; and these being pierced with small 
 holes, and communicating by a pipe with 
 the cistern, water was made to play from 
 their faces in a very beautiful manner. 
 This continued from twelve to four, and 
 was sanctioned by the magistrates. It 
 was to this well that the ancient pillory of 
 the city was fixed. 
 
 Towards the afternoon, the bane-fires 
 were in a great measure deserted ; for by 
 that time the boys had usually collected 
 a good sum, and began to bend their 
 thoughts upon the great business of the 
 evening. A new object of attention now 
 sprung up — namely, the meeting of the 
 magistrates and their friends in the Par- 
 liament House, in order to drink the 
 King's health. In the Great Hall, for- 
 merly the meeting-place of the Scottish 
 Parliament, tables covered with wines and 
 confectionaries were prepared at the ex- 
 pense of the city ; and to this entertain- 
 ment there were usually invited about two 
 hundred persons, including the most re- 
 spectable citizens of Edinburgh, besides 
 the noblemen, gentlemen, and the chief 
 military and naval officers who happened 
 to be in the city, or its vicinity. About 
 five o'clock, the attention of the mob 
 became concentrated in the Parliament 
 Close. "The company then began to 
 assemble in the House; and those arch- 
 enemies of the mob, yclept the " Town 
 Battens," drew themselves up at the east 
 entry of the square, in order to protect 
 the city's guests as thev ali'hted from 
 
 their jcarriages, and to fire;a volley at every 
 toast that was drunk within-the house. The 
 gentlemen who came to honor the magis- 
 trates had often to purchase the good-will 
 of the mob by throvfing money amongst 
 tliem ; otherwise they were sure to be 
 mal-treated before getting into the house. 
 Dead cats, cod-heads, and every species 
 of disgusting garbage, were thrown at 
 them, and sometimes unpopular persons 
 were absolutely seized and carried to the 
 box which covered a fire-pipe iu the centre, 
 of the square, and there ',' burghered," as 
 it was called — that is, had their bottoms 
 brought hard down upon the ridge of the 
 box three several times, with severity pro- 
 portioned to the caprice of the infiictors, 
 or determined by the degree of resistance 
 made by the sufferer. 
 
 While the town-guard stood in the 
 square, the mob were seldom remiss in 
 pelting them with the same horrible mis- 
 siles. Resistance or revenge in such a 
 case would have been vain; and the 
 veterans found it their only resource to 
 throw all the articles of annoyance, as 
 they reached them, into the lobby of the 
 house; thus diminishing, and perhaps 
 altogether exhausting, the ammunition of 
 their persecutors. 
 
 The healths being drunk, the " rats " 
 were ordered to leave the square, and 
 march dowr the street to their guard- 
 house. Most of these veterans had no 
 doubt participated in the distresses and 
 hazards of many a march and counter- 
 march ; but we question if they were 
 ever engaged in any so harassing and 
 dangerous as this. In fact, the retreat of 
 the 10,000 Greeks, or that of the British 
 troops in the late peninsular war, was 
 scarcely so beset with peril and horror, 
 as this retreat of the " rats '' irom the 
 parliament square to the town-guard- 
 house — a distance of only 100 yards ! 
 The uproar was now at its height, and 
 the mob, not content with a distant_^re of 
 missiles, might be said to charge bay- 
 onets, and attack their foes hand to hand. 
 The ranks of the guard were of course 
 entirely broken, and every individual 
 soldier had to dispute every inch he pro- 
 ceeded, with a thousand determined an- 
 noyers. The temper of the worthy vete- 
 rans was put to dreadful trial by this 
 organized system of molestation, but 
 some warm exclamation was in general 
 the only expression of their wrath. 
 Some years ago, however, one John 
 " hu, a high-spirited soldierly man, was 
 
667 
 
 tHE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 4. 
 
 66» 
 
 so exasperated by the persecution of an 
 individual, that he turned about at the 
 Cross, and hewed him down with one 
 stroke of his Lochaber-axe. 
 
 After the Town-guard was fairly housed, 
 the mob was obliged to seek other ob- 
 jects, Whereupon to vent their ignoble 
 rage J and, accordingly, the High Street, 
 from the Luckenbooths to the Nether- 
 bow, becoming now the field of action, 
 every well-dressed or orderly-looking 
 person who happened to intrude upon 
 the hallowed district was sure to be as- 
 sailed. Squibs and serpents blazed and 
 flew about in all directions. 
 
 It was customary with the blackguards 
 who headed the mob to commit " forci 
 ble abduction, sans remords," upon all 
 the cats which they could find, either at 
 the'doors or the fire-sides of their discon- 
 solate owners. These hapless innocents 
 were sometimes killed outright, immedi- 
 ately on being caught, before commencing 
 the sport; but, in general, were just 
 tossed about till they expired. A fuU- 
 sized dead cat was sometimes so far im- 
 proved, by this process of jactation, as to 
 be three feet long, and fit for being tied 
 round the neck of a gentleman, like a 
 cravat. Pieces of furniture, such as 
 chairs and tables,' were also occasionally 
 seized in the Cowgate, and thrown about 
 the streets in the same manner. Country- 
 people were seldom permitted to escape 
 .abuse, when observed upon the street. 
 Our informant once saw three unsophisti- 
 cated rustics, dressed in their best sky- 
 blue coats, standing at the head of the 
 Old Assembly Close, amongst the women 
 and ftbildren who usually took such sta- 
 tions in order to "see the fun." The 
 poor men were laughing heartily at the 
 mischief they witnessed — ^their cachinna- 
 tions being no more heard amidst the 
 uproar than their persons were seen 
 amongst the crowd. But suddenly, fgr 
 some reason or other, the noise of the 
 mob sinking down to a low note, like 
 the sea subsiding round a stake, left the 
 voices of the' honest country folks quite 
 prominent above the circumjacent hum; 
 and of course had the effect of directing 
 the attention of all towards the close- 
 head where they stood. The eyes of the 
 mob instantly caught their happy faces, 
 and, in the course of the next moment, 
 a hundred hands were raised with the 
 purpose of throwing crackers, serpents, 
 dead cats, &c., at their heads. Seeing 
 themselves thus made objects of attack, 
 
 they turned in horror and dismay, and 
 fled down the close. Having the start of 
 their pursuers, they had almost effected 
 their escape, when a stout fellow, more 
 impetuous than the rest, rushing head- 
 long through the " close-mouth," hurled 
 after them a bruised and battered calf's- 
 head, which had been a well-known and 
 familiar missile throughout the High 
 Street during the whole afternoon, and 
 which, striking the last of the fugitives 
 full in the back, went to pieces where 
 it alighted, darkening with blood and 
 brains the shade of the coat, and laying 
 the luckless rustic prostrate on the 
 ground. 
 
 Aftei: the mob succeeded in chasing 
 every proper object of mischief from the' 
 street, they usually fell to and attacked 
 each other, in a proiiiiscuous millie, till, 
 worn out by fatigue, and fully satisfied 
 with " fun," they separated perhaps about 
 ten o'clock, after having kept undisputed 
 possession of the town for at least ten 
 hours. The present system of Police has 
 suppressed these outrages.* 
 
 Eton Fete. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 In the Eiie/y'JDoy Book-\- there is a cu- 
 rious account of the manner in which 
 some years ago J the birth-day of his Ma- 
 jesty, King George III., was kept at Bex- 
 hill in Sussex; it may not therefore be 
 unamusing to describe the manner both 
 in which it used to be kept, and, though 
 years have elapsed since the demise of 
 that aged monarch, it stilf honored by 
 the students of' Eton. 
 
 However, this second jubilee of the 
 Etonians is perhaps not for the sole purpose 
 of commemorating the natal day of one 
 of England's kings, but may also have an 
 equal reference to another circumstance, 
 which is, that about this time the boys, 
 as it is technically called, " take their re- 
 moves," which simply means are admitted 
 into higher classes-U The day nominated 
 
 • Chambers's Traditions of Edinburgh, ii. 221. 
 
 t Vol. ii. col. 743-4. t 1819. 
 
 II The " taking a remove" is in the lower 
 part of the school generally, and in the upper 
 invariably, made a matter of course, depend- 
 ing upon the time the boy may have been in 
 the school, and farming no critetion of hii 
 literary acquirements; 
 
669 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 4. 
 
 670 
 
 for this purpose is, in fact, the 4tl] of 
 June, but it does not, I believe, actually 
 take place till some days after. 
 
 This F^te has no resemblance to the 
 Montem, inasmuch as the former is aquatic, 
 while the latter is performed on terra 
 Jvmui, 
 
 On the morning of the 4th of June, if, 
 as a passenger is going over Windsor 
 Bridge on the way to Eton, he should 
 turn his eyes to the left, on a small 
 island called the aits, he will perceive 
 two poles erected, towards the upper part 
 of which a black scroll is affixed, with 
 the following words conspicuously inscrib- 
 ed on it in white letters, Floreat Eton a, 
 i. e., " May Eton flourish." If it lie near 
 the meridian, or inclining towards after- 
 noon, he may behold placed above it on 
 a central pole the Eton arms ; these are 
 for transparencies; the arms are sur- 
 mounted with a royal crown, and at the 
 extremities of the scroll G. R. ;§ both in 
 various colored lamps ready for illumi- 
 nation. When evening approaches, at 
 about six o'clock, sever^ frames with fire- 
 works are erected, and, among the most 
 conspicuous of the preparations is a second 
 transparency, to be lit up by fireworks, of 
 the Eton arms surrounded with the motto 
 " Floeeat Etona." 
 
 There generally at this time begins no 
 slight bustle on the right bank of the 
 river, called the brocas, which is occa- 
 sioned by the " boats" being on the point 
 of starting. Previously however to their 
 departure the river begins to assume an 
 animated appearance, and numerous skiffs 
 with company in them, especially if it be 
 a fine afternoon, are seen to move on the 
 water. The Etonians, also, not belonging 
 to the boats'-crews, get into skiffs and row 
 up to Surly Hall, there to await the coming 
 of the pageant flotilla. 
 
 There now appear on the river some 
 way up the Buckinghamshire bank, so 
 that they are not distinctly if at all visible 
 from the bridge, the " boats" which are 
 to play such a conspicuous part; they are 
 generally eight in number, christened by 
 some fine name or other, such as " Bri- 
 tannia!" "Victory!" "St. George!" 
 " Etonian I " . &c., and decorated with 
 handsome and appropriate flags. Two of 
 
 $ So jt was last time, when in the reign of 
 George IV. they celebrated his father's birth- 
 day, whether they will be commuted to W. R. 
 this timsj or not, I am ignorant; probably 
 hey will not. 
 
 them have ten, and the remainder eight 
 oars. When it is nearly half past six, or 
 at a little before seven, the orews embark. 
 They are all dressed in different uniforms, 
 all however wearing blue jackets, shoesj 
 and buckles. The great mark of distinc- 
 tion is the hat ; a little, round, odd -look- 
 ing, though sailor-like, afiair, made of dif- 
 feient colored beavers, and variously 
 stained straws ; in the front of which is 
 placed a medal suitable to the name of 
 the boat, as the cross of St. George, the 
 anchor of Hope, &c. Each crew has 
 moreover a shirt of a different check ; for 
 they assimilate themselves as much as 
 possible to sailors, and invariably have a 
 checked shirt. 
 
 The gayest person in each boat is the 
 steersman, who is habited in a captain's 
 full naval uniform, wearing' a cocked hat 
 and sword. The captain of the boat, 
 however, pulls « stroke," and is habited 
 as one of the crew. 
 
 An aquatic procession now commences, 
 consisting of all the " boats," belonging 
 to the Eton boys, in order, the ten.-oars 
 taking the lead; the whole preceded by 
 one or two bands of music in two boats, 
 rowed by " cads."* The place of desti- 
 nation is Surly Hall, a house situated on 
 the banks of the river, where refreshment 
 or rather a very substantial feast, in which 
 wine makes a conspicuous figure, is pro- 
 vided. This is merely for the " boats,''f 
 but, as I have mentioned before, numbers 
 of the Eton boys go up in skiffs, and, by 
 standing behind the chair of any of the 
 "boats," they have whatever they wish. 
 Each fifth form boy is moreover presented 
 with a card, on which is inscribed " cider," 
 or else " ale," and which entitles the bearer 
 to a bottle of either. Though the " boats" 
 do not stay long up at Surly, they gene- 
 rally contrive that above half are half- 
 seas-over; though such a close familiarity 
 with the jolly god adds in no little mea- 
 sure to their personal risk while on the. 
 water, and is calculated rather to throw a 
 shade upon the manner of the Etonians 
 than to enhance the pleasure of this juve- 
 nile regatta. 
 
 While the " boats" are yet carousing at 
 Surly, the company on the river in boats; 
 
 * Cada, low fellows, who hang about the 
 college to provide the Etonians with any thing 
 necessary to assist their sports. 
 
 t Boati, This word, in Eton language, is ap- 
 plied to the boats' crewt more frequently than 
 to the boats themselves 
 
671 
 
 TiiE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 4. 
 
 672 
 
 punts, and barges, greatly increases, and 
 the banks and bridge are well thronged. 
 Several gentlemen and ladies arrive also 
 in carriages, which drive down the brocas, 
 to await the return of their elegant com- 
 pany, Tijfho are partaking of the pleasures 
 of the scene upon the water. 
 
 Notice is given of the near approach of 
 the " boats" by the number of skiffs which 
 return first, in order to see their arrival ; 
 the illuminations and transparencies are 
 then (at about a quarter past 8 o'clock) 
 lighted up, and, when the first boat ar- 
 rives at the aits, a firework is let off 
 which explodes with a great noise, and is 
 repeated, by way- of salute, as each goes 
 by. The " boats" pass under the bridge^ 
 and return in order ; by which time the 
 bands of music, having also returned, are 
 moored to a post in the middle of the 
 river and commence playing. The boats 
 now row by the right side of the aits (I 
 speak as if standing on the bridge), and 
 at the same time another firework, which 
 is generally very splendid, is set alight. 
 As they pass the left side, each crew 
 stands up in order, oar and hat in 
 hand, and gives three cheers for " the 
 king," and then passes on ; this .is done 
 as long as any firework remains, so that 
 they row seven or eight times round the 
 island. The pyrotechnic exhibition ter- 
 minates with a temple of fire, surmounted 
 with a royal crown, and the letters G. R. 
 During the whole time Bengal lights, sky 
 and water rockets are sent forth, which 
 latter .particularly enliven the scene, and 
 by their wkter rambles excite much amuse- 
 ment. The boys generally return home at 
 a little past 9 o'clock in the evening. 
 
 In order to defray the expenses of this 
 
 * This is a grand distinction between the 
 Montem and the " 4th of June ;" for in the 
 former it is the captain of the school, a 
 "coUoger" of necessity, who takes the lead, 
 while in the latter, so far from that being the 
 case, the " tug muttons," Anglice the king's 
 scholars are not even allowed to subscribe to 
 the entertainment. Indeed the " tugs" may 
 he considered as a separate school from the 
 oppidans, as they are not even permitted by 
 the latter to row upon a certain portion of the 
 river, which is considered as exclusively be- 
 longing to the former \ indeed, to travel out of 
 my subject for a moment, they are not even 
 permitted to belong to the same cricket dub, 
 or to play at the same game of cricket with an 
 oppidan* 
 
 t Bargemen. Eton phraseology. 
 
 ccremofty, a regular subscription is- re- 
 ceived by the " Captain of the Oppidans,"* 
 who of course cannot be " captain of the 
 school," as I have stated on another occa- 
 sion. The subscriptions from each of the 
 fifth form is 7s. 6d., as also from each of 
 the boys who row in the 1}oats, whether 
 fifth form or not. The other subscrip- 
 tions are trifling in comparison, and are 
 regulated by the boys' rank in the school. 
 
 The number of persons who assemble 
 to witness this display varies at times 
 from 2000 to 3000. The bridge is very 
 crowded and looks one mass of people J 
 the shore is densely covered with the 
 company, and a great sum is gained by 
 the " bargees,"-^- who moor two or three of 
 their barges to the banks of the river, 
 which are crammed to excess, demanding 
 sixpence entrance ; on the river innu- 
 merable boats are plying about, and the 
 music sounds sweetly over the water. I 
 speak on my own authority, as an eye 
 witness, when I say that the fireworks, 
 the music, tlie beautiful and regular row- 
 ing of the Etonians, their gay flags, the 
 novelty of the sight, and the number of 
 people assembled to behold it, cause a 
 delightful sensation to the^ mind; and a 
 hearty participation in the joys of the 
 scene. 
 
 Yet, in all this, there is one circum- 
 stance which is very curious and appa- 
 rently unaccountable. It has been fre- 
 quently reiterated by the head master of 
 Eton, that " boating is at no times al- 
 lowed, and though after Easter it is con- 
 nived at a little, but not by any means 
 permitted, yet previously it is absolutely 
 forbidden." » Here is a jumble, it is " not 
 permitted," " not allowed," but " connived 
 at a little"— 3l little !— both at this fSte 
 and the similar one which occurs at Elec- 
 tion Saturday. The head master, and, as 
 I believe, the rest of the masters are all 
 there, participators of the scene, If not in 
 the actual infringement of the rule. 
 
 FtLGARLIC. 
 Wai/, 1831. 
 
 June 4. Suo rises . . . 
 — sets . . . 
 Maiden pink flowers. 
 Indian pink flowers abundantly. 
 
 h. ro. 
 4 54 
 7 6 
 
 * That these were his very words, I know 
 from the most authentic sources 
 
673 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.- JUNE 4. 
 
 «r4 
 
 A SCENE OF HAPPINESS. 
 
 This representation is designed to 
 illustrate a passage in the foUoTCing ori- 
 ginal poem, which is one of several from 
 .Ihe unfinished papers of a gertleman who 
 has ceased to write. His " Scottish Sol- 
 dier," and other pieces in prose and verse, 
 
 delighted the readers of the Every Hm/ 
 Book : and some of his poetry is in the 
 Year Book. It were to be wished, in the 
 present instance, that art had more vividly 
 expressed the feeling in these unpublished 
 lines : — 
 
 Julia. 
 
 Julia ! when last I gazed upon thy face 
 'Twas glowing with young Beauty's roseate hues. 
 And the blue orbs that first to the embrace 
 Of woman lit me soft brightness did diffuse. 
 'Twas on a summer's eve, and scarcely bent 
 The yellow stem beneath the languid air. 
 And o'er the glorious west the sun yet sent 
 The crimson'd charm that lulls the heart to prayer — 
 Beneath thy father's vine-grown porch we sate 
 And watch'd those hues fade gently in the west. 
 And gaz'd on Fancy's scenes of future fate 
 Conjur'd by Hope with Love's wand from youth's breast. 
 Oh thou wert beautiful in that soft hour ! 
 With what deep love and awe I watch'd thy gaze— 
 The sweet half smile— the dewy eye's dark power 
 That mark'd the thought and hope of coming days ! 
 Vol. 1—22, Z 
 
673 
 
 HE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE i 
 
 0T6 
 
 Oh then words had been idle, but I. prest 
 Thy lips with mine and drank a inurmur'd yes — . 
 And gather'd thee into a happy breast, 
 And inly scorn'd the world in that caress. 
 Thy grey-hair'd father then our loves first knew 
 And bless'd them with glad tears upon his cheek — 
 And thy fond mother wept joyous as she drew 
 Her child into a heart whose pulse alone could speak. 
 « ■ » * 
 
 That porch is fell'd, that spot a city's site, 
 
 O'erstepp'd by heedless herds of busy men ; 
 
 And care and gain have cast their sordid blight 
 
 O'er the once fair now murky smoking glen. 
 
 The ye-W waves darkly o'er thy sire's grey hair. 
 
 Earth pillows thy fond mother's aged head^ 
 
 And Julia where art thou — where are thy vows ? say where T 
 
 'Tis my heart sadly answers--broken — dead 1 
 
 S. H. S. 
 
 Wune 5. 
 
 Sacheverell. 
 
 This is a name familiar to every reader 
 of history, on account of the notoriety of 
 Dr. Henry Sacheverell, who preached 
 sermons, in the reign of queen Anne, 
 which occasioned him to be impeached 
 by the house of commons, and inflamed 
 the whole kingdom. He died on the S'.h 
 of June, 1724. It is proposed to give 
 a brief account of this remarkable cha- 
 racter, and of his great ancestor, the rev. 
 John Sacheverell, a man of illustrious 
 reputation in the west of England. 
 
 This John Sacheverell was of an an- 
 cient ftimily in Nottinghamshire, and 
 grandfather to Dr. Henry Sachfeverell. 
 John was son to the estimable minister of 
 'Sfoke-Underham, in Somersetshire, who 
 had many children. Two of them, John, 
 ibf whom we are now speaking, and Tim>- 
 othy, were bred ministers. They were 
 both of St. John's College, Oxon ; and 
 were both silenced on Bartholomew-day, 
 1662, the former at Wincanton, in Somer- 
 setshire, and the latter at Tarrant-Hinton. 
 John, whose memory is revered in the 
 west, had first the living of Rimpton, in 
 Somersetshire, which he quitted before 
 the restoration of Charles II., and after- 
 wards that of Wincanton, where he had 
 but thirty pounds per annum, certain 
 allowance, with a promise of an augment- 
 ation of thirty pounds more from London ; 
 of which augmentation he received only 
 one half year. His labors in this place 
 were great, and his conversation was un- 
 blamable and exemplary. 
 
 He was three times tnarried. ©y his 
 
 first wife he haa only one child, Josnna, 
 whom he sent to King's College, Cam- 
 bridge. By his second he had no child- 
 ren. By his third he had two other sons, 
 Benjamin and Samuel, and a daughter. 
 The third wife brought him a copyhold 
 estate of sixty pounds a year at Stalbridge, 
 which he returned to her two daughters 
 by the former husband, leaving his library 
 to his son Joshua, and twelve pence only 
 to each of his other children. Joshua is 
 said to have been disinherited by his 
 father for his strict adherence to the esta- 
 blished church. 
 
 John constantly rose early, and occupied 
 the morning in his study, and the aftei^ 
 noon in visiting his flock, and discoursing 
 with them about religious matters, till the 
 •Saturday, which was entirely spent in 
 preparing for the Sabbath. That day was 
 usually thus employed : he began his 
 public worship with a short prayer in the 
 morning, and then read a psalm and a 
 chapter, and briefly expounded them : 
 after singing a psalm, he prayed and 
 preached for an hour and a quarter. In 
 the afternoon he began at one, himself 
 repeating his morning sermon, and exa- 
 mined young people as to what they had 
 remembered ; then prayed and preached 
 for about an hour and a half: and after- 
 wards the evening sermon, and examin- 
 ation of young ones about it, concluded 
 the public service. 
 
 On the very day of the coronation of 
 king Charles II. he preached a sermon 
 upon 1 Sam. xii. 25, '" If ye shall still 
 do wickedly, ye shall be consumed, both 
 ye antJ yonr ting." The observation 
 w'hi<rti he cbiefly iiisi^ted upon was this : 
 
,«7T 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 5. 
 
 679 
 
 that wicked meo, continuing in their 
 Wricked actions, are the greatest traitors to 
 the king, and the state wherein they live. 
 Several went out of the church in the 
 niidst of the sermon ; and the rabble got 
 together, and in the market-house held a 
 mock trial of the preacher. They after- 
 wards drew him in effigy, with a book in 
 his hand, which they called his catechism, 
 upon a hurdle, through the town to the 
 top of a hill, where a great bonfire was 
 prepared. The effigy was hanged upon 
 a pole, in order to be burned ; but, the 
 wind driving the flames away, the effigy 
 remained untouched, and was shot at by 
 ^several with a great deal of fury, and at 
 length fell into the flames, where it was 
 consumed. Many, who were the most 
 active in this frantic diversion, had some 
 one or other remarkable calamity that 
 beffcl them soon after, and several of them 
 died very miserably. In a little while 
 afterwards he was indicted at the assizes, 
 for continuing his ministry without read- 
 ing the common prayer. On his trial he 
 declared that if he had been required, by 
 authority, to read the common prayer, he 
 would either have done it or immediately 
 have quitted the living. He behaved 
 59 well, that the judge expressed himself 
 to this effect to those that were about 
 him : " Have you no other man in your 
 county to single out for a pattern of your 
 severity?" In conclusion the jury brought 
 him in, not guilty. 
 
 After he had been silenced by the Bar- 
 tholomew act he retired to Stalbridge, 
 where he had an estate in right of his 
 wife. Being afterwards taken at a meet- 
 ing in Shaftesbury, together with Mr. 
 Bamfield, Mr. Hallet, Mr. Ince, and some 
 other ministers, they were, all sent to 
 Dorchester gaol, where he remained for 
 Ihree years. In this imprisonment he 
 ,and the rest of them preached by turns 
 out of a window to a considerable num- 
 ber of people that stood to hear on the 
 Other side of the river. In this confine- 
 ment he contracted such an indisposition » 
 ,that, of a very cheerful, active person, he 
 became melancholy, and soon after his 
 days were ended. He died in his chair, 
 speaking to those about h'tn ^i^h great 
 earnestness and affection, of the great 
 work of redemption. He wrote in the 
 title-page ^9f .all hjs booksi " To me to 
 live is Chrast, and to die is gain ; " Phil, 
 i. 21. This w^ engraven upon his 
 tomb-stone. ]SS^. ^^ngor, who was a 
 feUowrSuffecer with him, preached his 
 
 funeral-sermon, from Rom. viii, 23, 23. 
 Joshua settled at Marlborough, where 
 he was highly esteemed, and where was 
 born his son Henry, who, with very mo- 
 derate talents, was exalted by the madness 
 of party, from obscurity to a height of 
 popularity which the present times look 
 back upon with astonishment. 
 
 Henry Sacheverell was sent to Magda- 
 len College, Oxford, where he became 
 demy in 1687, at the age of fifteen, and 
 conducted himself so well that, as public 
 tutor, he superintended the education of 
 many persons subsequently eminent for 
 learning and abilities. He look the de- 
 gree of M. A. in 1696 ; B. D. and D. D. 
 in 1708. His first preferment was Can- 
 nock, in the county of Stafford. He was 
 appointed preacher of St. Saviour's South- 
 wark, in 1705.' While in this station he 
 preached an assize sermon at Derby, 
 August 15, 1709, for which he was pro- 
 secuted. It advocated principles which 
 would have excluded the house of Han- 
 over, and seated the Stuarts upon the 
 throne. Sacheverell was a vapid high- 
 church demagogue ; a mere puppet 
 played in the van of the lories by their 
 political views, to annoy the whig admi- 
 nistration. For another sermon at St. 
 Paul's, on the 5th of November following, 
 he was intemperately impeached by the 
 house of commons. His , trial began 
 February 27, 1709-10, and continued 
 until the 23rd of March, when he was 
 sentenced to a suspension from preaching 
 for three years, and his two sermons were 
 ordered to be burnt. Sir Simon Harcourtj 
 who was counsel for him, received, on 
 this occasion, a silver bason gilt. "Fhis 
 ill-judged prosecution overthrew the mi- 
 nistry, and laid the foundation of his 
 fortulie. During these proceedings a 
 stranger would have supposed the fate of 
 the empire depended upon their issue. 
 Queen Anne sat as a private individualj 
 to listen to the idle trial. The hangman 
 burnt the sermons, and the mob set fire 
 to the meeting-houses. The preacher was 
 silenced for three years, and the populace) 
 in revenge, made him the object of thpir 
 adoration. His enemies triuipphedj yet 
 dared not venture abroad, while tens of 
 thousands bent as lowly before hijn as the 
 Thibetians to the Graiid Lama. He went 
 on a tour of triumph through the country, 
 atid was received with splendid, respect- 
 ful pompj at almost every place he visitedi 
 Magistrates, in their fbrmalities,'Welooined 
 him into 4heir corporations, and hisguaid 
 Z2 
 
679 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 5. 
 
 686 
 
 of honor was frequently a thousand gen- 
 tlemen on horseback. At Bridgenorth 
 he was met by Mr. Creswell, at the head 
 of four thousand horse, and the same 
 number of persons on foot, wearing white 
 knots edged with ' gold, and leaves of 
 gilt laurel in their hats. The hedges, for 
 several mileSj were dressed with garlands 
 of flowers, and the steeples covered wjth 
 flags. In this manner he passed through 
 Warwick, Birmingham, Bridgenorth,Lud- 
 low, and Shrewsbury, with a cavalcade 
 better suited to a prince than a priest, on 
 his way to a living near Shrewsbury, 
 which he had been presented with. In the 
 month that his .-suspension ended, the 
 valuable rectory of St. Andrew's Holborn 
 was presented to him by the queen. His 
 reputation was so high, that he was en- 
 abled to sell the first sermon he preached, 
 after his sentence had expired, for £100, 
 and upwards of 40,000 copies were sold 
 He had also interest enough with the new 
 ministry to provide amply for one of his 
 brothers ; yet Swift said, " they hated, 
 and affected to despise him." In 1716 
 he prefixed a dedication to " Fifteen Dis- 
 courses, occasionally delivered before the 
 University of Oxford, by W. Adams, 
 M. A., late student of Christ Church, and 
 rector of Stanton-upon-Wye, in Hereford- 
 shire." After this publication, we hear 
 little concerning him, excep't his quarrels 
 with his parishioners, and suspicions of 
 his having been engaged in Atterbury's 
 plot. A considerable estate at Callow, 
 in Derbyshire, was left to him by his 
 kinsman, George Sachevetell, Esq. By 
 his will he bequeathed to bishop Atter- 
 bury, then in exile, and who was suppos- 
 ed to have penned his defence for him, a 
 legacy of £500. The duchess of Marl- 
 borough describes him as " an ignorant, 
 impudent incendiary, — the scorn even of 
 those who made use of him as a tool." 
 Bishop Burnet says, ^' He was a bold, 
 insolent man, with a very small measure 
 of religion, virtue, learning, or good 
 sense; but he resolved to force himself 
 into popularity and preferment, by the 
 most petulant railings at dissenters and 
 low-church men, in several sermons and 
 libels, written without either chasteness 
 of style or liveliness of expression." His 
 death is recorded in the " Historical Re- 
 gister," 1724, as of a common person, 
 without either eulogy or blame.* 
 
 Mr. Nichols in 6<>u». Mag. 1779. Noble. 
 
 Will Suippen. 
 William Shippen, Esq., the great leader 
 of the tories, and advocate of the Stuarts, 
 in the reigns of George I. and George II., 
 died in the year 1743. He was son 
 of the rector of Stockport, Cheshire, 
 where he was born in 1672,~and educated 
 under Mr. Dale, a man of abilities. In 
 1707, when John Asgill, Esq., was ex- 
 pelled the house of commons, Mr. Ship- 
 pen succeeded him as representative for 
 Bramber, through the interest of Lord 
 Plymouth, whose son, Dixie Windsor, 
 was his brother-in-law. He afterwards 
 constantly sat as member for some 
 borough, always acting as a partisan of 
 the expelled family, and never disguising 
 his sentiments. The court endeavoured, 
 but in vain, to soften him. He had not 
 more than £400 per annum, originally, 
 but, as he was an economist, he never ex- 
 ceeded his income. Of George I. he de- 
 clared, in the house of commons, that 
 " the only infelicity of his majesty's reign 
 was, that he was unacquainted with our 
 language and constitution ;" both sides of 
 the house wished him to soften the ex- 
 pression ; and the Prince of Wales, after- 
 wards George II., even sent to him his 
 groom of the bed-chamber, general 
 Churchill, with an offer of £1000, which 
 he declined, and was sent to the Tower. 
 When restored to liberty, he remained the 
 same man. Though the most determined 
 of Sir Robert Walpole's political enemies, 
 he was, like Sir John Barnard, his pri- 
 vate friend. Shippen once successfully 
 applied to him in favor of a person who 
 was in trouble for illegally correspond ing 
 with the Stuarts, and was himself de- 
 tected in a similar offence. The postman, 
 by accident or design, delivered a letter 
 into Walpole's hands addressed to Ship- 
 pen, from the Pretender. Walpole sent 
 for Shippen, and gave him the packet 
 without any seeming resentment, merely 
 remarking how careless the person em- 
 ployed must be in his delivery. Shippen 
 was covered with confusion ; Walpolt 
 observed, " Sir, I cannot, knowing your 
 political sentiments, ask you to vote with 
 the administration; all I request is, that 
 you woiild vote for me if personally at- 
 tacked." This Shippen promised and 
 performed. He would pleasantly remark, 
 " Robin and I are two honest men ; he" is 
 for King George, and I. for King James ; 
 but those men with long cravats," mean- 
 ing Sandys, Sir John Rushout, Gybbon 
 and others, " they only desire places 
 
681 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— JUNE 6. 
 
 q82 
 
 either under king George or king James." 
 He would say to the most violent whigs, 
 " It is necessary to restore the Stuarts." 
 When asked how he should vote, he used 
 to say, " I cannot tell until I hear from 
 Rome." 
 
 Mr. Shippen married the daughter and 
 co-heir of Sir Richard Stote, Knt., of 
 Northumberland, with whom he had 
 £70,000, but this match made no altera- 
 tion in his conduct, except in living some- 
 thing more expensively. Sometimes he 
 resided in apartments in Holland-House, 
 at others in a hired house on Richmond 
 Hill. In town, he lived for many years 
 in Norfolk-itreet, where he was surround- 
 ed by persons of rank, learning, and 
 talent. His conversation was dignified, 
 and replete vfith vivacity and wit. In 
 the house of commons he commanded at- 
 tention, by the fire and force of his sen- 
 timents, though he spoke rapidly, in a 
 low tone of voice, and usually with his 
 glove before, his mouth. His speeches 
 generally contained some pointed period, 
 which peculiarly applied to the subject in 
 debate, and which he uttered vfith great 
 animation. His name is still popular 
 through these lines of Pope : — 
 
 I love to pour out all myself, as plain 
 
 As honest Shippen, or downright Montaigne. 
 
 He was a poetical as well as a prose 
 politician. Besides several other tracts, 
 he wrote " Faction Displa'yed" and ''Mo- 
 deration Displayed:'' in which he satir- 
 ized the great whig lords, under the names 
 of the principal Romans who engaged in 
 Cataline's conspiracy. His verses were 
 severe, but not harmonious. SheflSeld, 
 duke of Buckingham, mentions him in 
 " The Election of a Poet Laureate."— 
 
 To Shippen, Apollo was cold with respect. 
 But said, in a greater assembly he shin'd ; 
 As places are things he had ever declined. 
 
 Mr. Shippen's relict was unsocial and 
 penurious, and inherited his personality, 
 as her husband's survivor, according to 
 their mutual agreement. She repelled all 
 advances from queen Caroline, and, dying 
 imbecile, the law gave her fortune to her 
 sister, the Hon, Mrs. Dixie Windsor. 
 
 Mr. Shippen had three brothers, and a 
 sister; one of his brothers, president of 
 Brazen Nose College, Oxford, and some 
 time vice-chancellor of that university, 
 was a man of distinguished abilities, 
 and was inducted to the living of St. 
 Mary's, Whitechapel, in room of Dr. 
 Welton, Hsolost it because he would not 
 
 take the oaths to George I. He died No- 
 vember 24, 1745. As the other brothers 
 were without issue, the paternal estate 
 went to the two sons of their sister, who 
 had married Mr. Leyborne, of Yorkshire. 
 These nephews were, Dr. Leyborne, prin- 
 cipal of Alban-Hall, in Oxford; and Mr. 
 Leyborne, a merchant of the factory at 
 Lisbon. Their sister, married to the Rev, 
 Mr. Taylor, was mother to Mrs. Willes, 
 widow of the learned judge Willes. A 
 collateral branch of the Shippens settled 
 in Philadelphia; one of the females was 
 married to Lawrens, the president of the 
 congress, and another to general Arnold, 
 memorable for his defection from the 
 cause he had engaged to serve, and deser- 
 tioh from the army he commanded.* 
 
 h. nii 
 June 5. Sun rises .... 3 50 
 — sets .... 8 10 
 Hedge-roses flower abundantly — for ex- 
 ample, the Scotch rose, white Dog rose, 
 common Dog rose, apple bearing rose, 
 downy leaved rose, &c. 
 
 Bunt 6. 
 
 Old Booksellebs, &c. 
 On the 6th of June, 1796, died at Ox- 
 ford, in his eighty-fifth year, Mr. Daniel 
 Prince, an eminent bookseller, and during 
 many years manager of the University 
 Press. In that capacity several valuable 
 publications passed under his superintend- 
 ance. Those on which he most prided 
 himself were Blackstone's Magna Charta, 
 1759, 4to; Marmora Oxoniensia, 1763, 
 fol. ; Listeri Synopsis Conchyliorum, 
 1770, fol.; Blackstone's Commentaries, 
 4 vols. 4to., three editions, 1770, &c. 
 Kennicot's Hebrew Bible, 2 vols. fol. 
 1 776 ; Ciceronis Opera, 10 vols. 4to. 1 784 ; 
 Bradley's Observations and Tables, printed 
 in 1788, though not published till 1796 ■ 
 
 In the same year, on the 8th of August, 
 the sister University, Cambridge, lost a 
 bookseller of that town in the person 
 of Mr. John Nicholson, who died aged 
 sixty-six, lamented by an unparalleled 
 circle of friends. By unremitting atten- 
 tion to business for upwards of forty-five 
 years, Mr. Nicholson acquired consider- 
 able property. He was known in the 
 University by the name of " Maps or 
 
 * Noble. 
 
ess 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 6. 
 
 «84 
 
 Pictures," from his constant habit of 
 offering those articles at the different 
 chambers. He established a very capital 
 circulating library, including most of the 
 lecture books read in the University, and 
 also many of the best and scarcest authors 
 in various other branches of literature; 
 by which means the students were assisted 
 to the most esteemed writers at a small 
 Expense. .He presented to the University 
 a whole length portrait of himself, loaded 
 with books, which hangs in the staircase 
 of the public library, and under it a print 
 engraven from it. 
 
 To the preceding notice of " old 
 Maps" of Cambridge, may be subjoined 
 a memorandum of a person of more literary 
 distinction of the same place. On the 
 18th of April, 1790, died at his house in 
 All Saints Ciiurch, at the age of seventy- 
 eight, JVI. Rene La Butte, who had taught 
 the French language in that university 
 upwards of forty-yearS, with great reputa- 
 tion. He was introduced tliere by Dr. 
 Conyers Middleton, and acquired much 
 credit by publishing a French Grammar, 
 with an analysis. M. La Butte married 
 Mrs. Mary Groves, of Cambridge, and 
 was possessed of a very good estate near 
 Ely, and of money in the funds, all ob- 
 tained by his great industry and care. He 
 was a native of Angers, in Anjou, and 
 brought up a printer, in which business 
 he excelled. On leaving France, he 
 worked in several respectable printing 
 offices in London, particularly with the 
 late Mr. Bowyer, and solely composed 
 Gardiner's "Tables of Logarithms." He 
 went to Cambridge with the well-known 
 Robert Walker (of Fleet-lane, or Old- 
 Bailey) and Thomas James, printers, when 
 they first set up printing a weekly news- 
 paper in that town ; and, to establish the 
 sale of it, they printed, in 8vo., Lord 
 Clarendon's " History of the Great Rebel- 
 lion," . and Boyer's " History of Queen 
 Anne," with neat cuts, &c., which they 
 gave gratis, a sheet a viee\, in the pews- 
 papers they distributed,* 
 
 There are several instances, though at 
 present they are not at hand to be avail- 
 able, of old publishers of country news- 
 papers, printing works and giving them 
 a'way with their journals to entice oeople 
 
 • Sents. iM[ag. 
 
 to fea- t.ie news. One book, however, 
 peTies me, will exemplify the fact : "A New 
 History of England — Manchester, printed 
 by Joseph Harrop, opposite the Exchange, 
 1764." At the end of this octavo volume, 
 which consists of 778 pages, is the fol- 
 lowing address : — 
 
 "To the PUBLIC. 
 
 "The History of England being now 
 brought down to that period which was 
 at first proposed, the Publisher takes this 
 opportunity of returning his thanks to his 
 friends and subscribers for the kind en- 
 couragement they have given his News 
 Paper; and hopes that as he has steadily 
 persevered in going through with, and 
 giving gratis, the History of England, at 
 the Expence of upwards of One Hundred 
 Pounds, they will still continue their S jb-' 
 scription to his paper, which he will spare 
 neither pains nor assiduity to render 
 worthy their perusal. 
 
 Jos. HaRrop." 
 
 From booksellers we have djgressed to 
 newspapers, and they bring to recollection 
 a humble laborer upon the " public press," 
 Wells Egelsham, who died on the 4th of 
 April, 1786, in Goldsmith-street, Gough- 
 square, London, overwhelmed with age, 
 infirmities, and poverty — a character not 
 unknown in theregions of politics, porter, 
 and tobacco. He was originally bred to 
 the profession of a printer, and worked as 
 a compositor, till disabled by repeated 
 attacks of the gout. For some years he 
 was employed in the service of Mr. 
 Woodfall, the father of the printers of 
 " The Public Advertiser'' and " Morning 
 Chronicle," to the former of which papers 
 the name of poor Egelsham appeared for 
 some time as the ostensible publisher. 
 Having from nature a remarkable squint, 
 to obviate the reflections of others he 
 assumed the name of "Winkey;" and 
 published a little volume of humorous 
 poetry in 1769, under the title of " Win- 
 key's Whims." He was one of the 
 founders of the honorable society of 
 '< Free and Easy Johns." In 1779 he 
 wrote " A short Sketch of English Gram- 
 mar," Svo. There is a small poem by him 
 in Mr. , Nicholls's " Anecdotes of Mr. 
 Bowyer," and a great variety of his fugi- 
 tive pieces in almost all the public prints. 
 The latter part of his life was principally 
 supported by the profits of a very snfiall 
 snuff and tobacco shop, by the collecting 
 
685 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 6. 
 
 686 
 
 of paragraphs for the Public Advertiser, 
 and by officiating occasionally as an 
 amanuensis. 
 
 Poor Egelsham I Is there nothing else 
 about EgeUham ? No. But the men- 
 tion of him recvills a personage with a 
 name something like Egelsliam's — 
 
 Egglesfield. 
 
 Speed, the chronicler, in his arcount of 
 Henry V., tells us, that when that king was 
 Prince of Wales, " He came into his father's 
 presence in a strange disguise, being in a 
 garment of blue satin, wrought full of 
 eyletholes, and, at every eylef, the needle 
 lefk hanging by the silk it was wrought 
 with." This curious costume puzzled 
 many a head besides Speed's, until Mr. G. 
 S. Green, residing in Oxford, found the 
 meaning of it in the following custom, 
 observed annually at Queen's College, on 
 the Feastof theCircumcision : — The bursar 
 gives to every member a needle and thread, 
 in remembrance of ihe founder, whose 
 name being Egglesfield was thus falsely 
 deduced from two French words, Aguille 
 Fil, a needle and thread, according to the 
 custom of former times, and the doctrine 
 of rebusses. Egglesfield, however, is pure 
 Saxon, and not" French. The founder of 
 Queen's College was an Englishman, born 
 in Cumberland, and confessor to a queen 
 ef Dutch extraction, daughter lo the earl 
 of Hainault and Holland. Mr. Green 
 reasonably conjectures, that prince Henry 
 having been a student in th-.it college, his 
 wearing of this strange garment was pro- 
 bably designed by him to express his 
 academical character, the properest habit 
 he could appear in before his father, who 
 was greatly apprehensive of some tronble 
 from his son's active and ambitious temper, 
 and much afraid of his taking the crown 
 from him, as he did at last. The habit of 
 a scholar was so very different from that 
 of a soldier, in those days, that nothing 
 could better allay the king's suspicions 
 than this silent declaration of attachment 
 to literature, and renunciation of the 
 iword.* 
 
 especially wTiere you may daily observe, 
 that a fever dotli as violently and long 
 hold him who lies upon a bed of tissue, 
 under a covering of Tyrian scarlet, as him 
 that lies upon a mattress, and liath no 
 covering but raggs ; and that we have no 
 reason to complain of the want of scarlet 
 robes, of golden embroideries, jewels, and 
 ropes of pearl, while we have a coarse 
 and easie garment to keep away the cold. 
 And what if you, lying cheerfully and se- 
 renely upon a truss of clean straw, covered 
 with raggs, should gravely instruct men, 
 how vain those are, who, with astonisht 
 and turbulent minds, gape and thirst after 
 the trifles of magnificence, not under- 
 standing how few and small those things 
 are which are requisite to an happy life? 
 What, tboiigh your house do not shine 
 with silver and gold hatchments ; nor 
 your arched roofs resound with the mul- 
 tiplied echoes of loud music; nor your 
 walls be not thickly beset with golden 
 figures of beautiful youths, holding great 
 lamps in their extended arms, to give 
 light to your nightly revels and sumptu- 
 ous banquets ? why yet, truly, it is not a 
 whit less (if not much more) pleasant to 
 repose your wearied limbs upon the 
 green grasse, to sit by some clear and 
 purling stream, under the refreshing shade 
 of some well branched tree ; especially in 
 the spring time, when the head of every 
 plant is crowned with beautiful and fra- 
 grant flowers, the merry birds entertaining 
 you with the music of their wild notes, 
 the fresh western winds continually fan- 
 ning your cheeks, and all nature smiling 
 upon you. — Epicurus, by Dr. Charleton, 
 1655. 
 
 Cotitentment. 
 
 Thougt\ I have nothing here that may 
 give me true content, yet I will leame to 
 be truely contented here with what I have-!i- 
 What care I, though I have not much, I 
 have as much as I desire, if I have as much 
 as I want ; I have as much as the most, it 
 I have as much as I desire. — A. Warwick. 
 
 1>RESS. 
 
 _ — ^Beware that you do not conceive 
 that the oody is made one whit the 
 more strong, or healthy, by the glory, 
 greatness, and treasures of monarchy ; 
 
 • Gents. Mag. 
 
 June 6. Sun rises . . . . 
 
 sets .... 
 
 roxglove begins to flower. 
 Sophora flowers. 
 Moss rose, musk rose, and 
 rose flower. 
 
 m. 
 49 
 
 8 U 
 
687 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 6. 
 
 «88 
 
 GOLDEN LION AT HAARLEM. 
 
 The cards o^ inn and hotel keepers on 
 the continent are frequently ornamented 
 with views of their hostelries ; and some, 
 especially of houses in the low countries, 
 are curious as memorials of the towns, 
 and the style of the edifices. Ore of these 
 engraved cards imports, by its inscrip- 
 tion, that " F. D. Godthart keeps the 
 Hotel of the Golden Lion, at Haarlem, 
 2ylstraat,W.S. No. 752." It bears the re- 
 presentation inserted above, and it is pre- 
 served in this manner to convey an idea 
 of the old gable-style of building which 
 prevails in that celebrated town, as it did 
 formerly, to a certain degree, in England. 
 Some of this architecture is extremely 
 picturesque, and very well shown in Rade- 
 maker's Views in Holland, which were 
 drawn and etched on the spot. In the 
 preceding sketch, the cloud on the house 
 to the right is a tree, cut with Dutch 
 formality. Remains of such tasteless 
 specimens of foliage exist about some of the 
 few old public tea-gardens still near Lon- 
 don. But this is not exclusively a Dutch 
 fashion; it lingers in Holland, because 
 its inhabitants are the last to adopt novel- 
 ties. It must be remembered, though, that a 
 set of etchings by a Dutchman, Waterloo, 
 
 affords exquisite forest scenery, executea 
 by him from trees in the wood of the 
 "palace at the Hague, which are still living, 
 and are so well preserved in their natural 
 forms as to be yet distinguished as the 
 originals of that artist, who died more 
 than a century ago. 
 
 Of Haarlem there are manifold accounts, 
 and descriptions, of ready access. Its 
 tulips are known in every part of Europe, 
 and although the rage for flowers, which 
 once proved so destructive among the 
 respectable families of Haarlem, and 
 which furnished the inimitable La BruyferB 
 with one of his characters, has almost 
 subsided, yet fifty, or even one hundred 
 florins, are no uncommon price for a 
 single bulb of some rare variety. In 
 former times one root was sold for more 
 than 10,000 florins; and the aggregate 
 sura produced by the sale of 120 tulips 
 was 90,000 florins, or £6,750.* 
 
 At this time Haarlem is never visited 
 by musical travellers, without paying their 
 respects to its nobie instrument — 
 
 * Boyce's Belgian Traveller. 
 
«89 
 
 THK YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 6. 
 
 69© 
 
 The II&ARtli:M ORGlkN. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Haarlem is celebrated for possessing the 
 largest churcli in Holland, .ind the Hnest 
 organ in Europe. At Amsterdam, and 
 other places, there are also stupendous 
 organs, and the inhabitants of Rotterdam 
 have been engaged for upwards of tiiirty 
 years in building one to rival that of Haar- 
 lem; for, although the Rotterdam Organ 
 has been already long in use, it was not 
 altogether finished when 1 was there in 
 1828. It is certainly a fine instrument, 
 and they boast that its reed-stops are 
 sweeter Uian the other's; but, without even 
 admitting this to be the case, it is no more 
 to be compared to the Haarlem organ, in 
 power, " than I to Hercules." 
 
 The following translation of a printed 
 statement respecting the " Haarlem or^an, 
 received from the organist, may afford 
 some idea of its capabilities : — the mea- 
 surements are, I believe, in French feet ; 
 and many of the terms I must leave as in 
 tlie original : — 
 Disposition of the Registers, or Voices, in 
 
 the Great Organ at Haarlem. 
 
 In the Great Manuel. 
 
 1. PreaUnt 16 feet 
 
 2. Bourdon 16 feet 
 
 3. Octave 8 feet 
 
 4.'Tiol de Gamla 8 feet 
 
 .5. Roer-FIait 8 feet 
 
 6. Octave 4 feet 
 
 7. Gems-Hoom 4 feet 
 
 8. Roer-Quiat 6 feet 
 
 9. Quint 3 feet 
 
 10. Tertian '2 fort 
 
 11. Mixture . . . . 6 . 8 . to lOfort 
 
 12. Wout-Fluit 2 feet 
 
 13. Trumpet ....... 16 feet 
 
 14. Trumpet 8 feet 
 
 15. Trumpet 14 feet 
 
 16. Haut-Bois 8 feet 
 
 In the Upper Manuel. 
 
 1. Prestant ....... 8 feet 
 
 2. Quintadena 16 feet 
 
 3.,Quintadeiia 8 feet 
 
 4. Baar-Pyp 8 feet 
 
 5. Octave 4 feet 
 
 6. Flag-Fluit 4 feet 
 
 7. Nassat . < 3 feet 
 
 8. Nacht-Hooni 2 feet 
 
 9. Flageolet IJfeet 
 
 10. Sexquialter 2fort 
 
 11. Echo Cornet 4 fort 
 
 12. Mixture 4 . to . . 6 fori 
 
 13. Schalmey 8 feet 
 
 14. Oulcian 8 foet 
 
 15. Vox Humana 8 feet 
 
 In the Positive. 
 
 1 . Prestant 8 feet 
 
 2. Hol-Fluit ....... 8 feet 
 
 3 Quintadena 8 feet 
 
 4 Octave , 4 feet 
 
 5. Flute 4 feet 
 
 6. Spi'el-Fluit 3 feet 
 
 7. Sexquialter . , . 2 . 3 . to 4 fori 
 
 8. Super-Octave 2 feet 
 
 9. Schcrp 6 . to . 8/or« 
 
 10. Cornet 4fmt 
 
 11. Carillon 2fort 
 
 12. Fagotte 16 feet 
 
 13. Trumpet 8 feet 
 
 14. Regaal 8 feet 
 
 In the Pedal. 
 
 1. Principal 32 ft. 
 
 2. Prestant ....... 16 feet 
 
 3. Stibbase 16 feet 
 
 4. Roer-Quint ; 12 feet 
 
 5. Hol-Fluit 8 feet 
 
 6. Octave 8 feet 
 
 7. Quint- Prestant 6 feet 
 
 8. Octave 4 feet 
 
 9. Ruisch-Quint ..<... 3 feet 
 
 10. Hol-Fluit 2 feet 
 
 11. Bassoon 32feet 
 
 12. Bassoon 16feet 
 
 13. Trumpet. . , 8 feet 
 
 14. Trumpet 4 feet 
 
 15. Cincq * . 2 feet 
 
 , Sixty voices in all, four separations, two 
 trcniblans, two accouplemens^ twelve bellows, 
 and nrarly 5000 pipes. 
 
 The principal has thirty-two feet of depth 
 or measurement. The exact length of the 
 greatest pipe, or of the deepest tone, is thirty- 
 eight feet, and fifteen inches diameter. 
 
 The bellows are each nine feet long by 
 five broad. 
 
 The height of the interior of the church is 
 111, its breadth 173, and its depth 391 feet ; 
 the organ itself has 103 feet of height, com- 
 mencing from the ground, and fifty breadth, 
 and had for maker Christian Muller, in 1738. 
 J. P. Schumann, 
 Orgaraat, 
 Jacobijneitraat, W, 5, No. 83. 
 
 The established form of religion in 
 Holland being simple, like the Presbyter 
 rian in Scotland, the organs only accom- 
 pany the singing of psalms during the 
 regular service; travellers, therefore, 
 usually engage the organist to play on 
 purpose. The charge made for this at 
 Haarlem is equivalent to twenty shillings 
 sterling ; out of which the organist pays 
 all the attendants, including the bellows- 
 blowers, cf whom, it is said, three are 
 required 
 
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 6. 
 
 69%. 
 
 We announced our intention to hear a 
 special performance, and the arrangements 
 were extremely welt managed for giving 
 effect to our entrance. Just at the instant 
 that the mind w^s rivetted by the first 
 glance of the lofty columns, and the vast 
 expanse of the church, rendered more 
 lofty and vast in appearance by the obscu- 
 rity of the dusk, and the glimmer of a 
 few tapers, a strong, but a most harmo- 
 nious chord from the magnificent instru- 
 ment rolled upon our ears, and, as we 
 gradually stepped forward, the air was 
 filled with the sublime strains of Handel's 
 Hallelujah Chorus. The sensations of 
 the moment are not to be described ; for 
 the full grandeur of the sound — the other- 
 wise breathless stillness of the scene — 
 the mellowed tints of thedeclining twilight 
 —and, perhaps, the more ready disposi- 
 tion to nervous excitement, from the 
 agitation and fatigues of previous travel- 
 ling, almost overpowered me ; and one of 
 my companions afterwards described him- 
 self to have been so peculiarly affected, 
 that, to use a common expression, he did 
 not know whether he was " standing on 
 his head or his heels." A storm and a 
 battle-piece seem always, to be given in 
 these exhibitions; the former was the 
 composition of the organist himself, and 
 may be supposed, therefore, well suited 
 for displaying the peculiarities of the in- 
 strument. I have already mentioned its 
 superiority in power over the Rotterdam 
 organ, which, noble as it. is, might be 
 denominated in comparison, by the phrase 
 of the Scotch covenanter, a mere " kest 
 fu' o' whistles." We had been surprised 
 at Rotterdam by the fine imitation of 
 distant thunder. At Haarlem the imita- 
 tion of thunder at a distance was equally 
 natural ; but we felt, the storm gradually 
 coming nearer and nearer, until the rattling 
 peals literally shook the place around us, 
 and were truly awful. Even thi?, we under- 
 stood, did rot acquaint us with the full 
 power of the instrument, which is said to 
 be never exerted to the utmost, for fear of 
 shattering the roof or walls of the church. 
 The battle also presented opportunities 
 for splendid varieties of sound, — depict- 
 ing>to the ear all the " pride, pomp, and 
 circumstance, of glorious war," from the 
 *' shrill sound of the ear-piercing fife," to 
 the din of those " mortal engines, whose 
 rude throats the immortal Jove's dread 
 thunders counterfeit." Neither are softer 
 strains wanting ; for the immense combin- 
 ation of pipes and stops admits of the 
 
 pathetic and gentle, as expressively as the 
 grand and lofty. The vox humana is pe- 
 culiarly fine, at times suggesting the idea 
 of a heavenly choir of angels hymning 
 their anthems in unison with terrestrial 
 music. " Luther's hymn," and various 
 other pieces, were likewise performed, 
 and it was considerably above an hour 
 before there seemed any intention of giving 
 over; nor could I have wished it a mof 
 ment shorter. During our stay we sat, 
 or walked about, to try the effect in differ- 
 ent parts ; sometimes going into the pews, 
 which extend through about one half of 
 the church, raised a few steps from the 
 floor, and at others penetrating into remote 
 corners, or pacing about the roomy aisles, 
 "in meditation rapt." 
 
 Afterwards, we were invited to examine 
 the mechanism of the instrument, and 
 found the organist wiping the drops from 
 his brow after his exertions; for it required 
 great bodily strength, botii of the hands 
 and feet, to make such a powerful organ 
 " discourse most eloquent music, from its 
 lowest note to the top of its compass." — 
 I observed a motto painted above the keys, 
 Non nisi motu cano, " I do not Sing with- 
 out a motive," allusive, no doubt, to the 
 preparation necessary for the performance; 
 but I thought this might have been trans- 
 lated, with reference to our twenty 
 shillings, " I do not sing for nothing !" 
 
 W. G.» 
 
 Musical Wageu. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 We never were a musical nation, yet 
 in days gone by, when the late king, 
 George III., was wont to be present at 
 the ancient concerts, and in the time of 
 Harrison, Bartleman, and the Knyvetts, a 
 real lover of music was gratified by the 
 dulcet strains from Handel, Mozart, 
 Hayon, &c., performed with a soul- 
 stirring eloquence. But now, alas, all 
 idea of palthos, or harmony, seems ab- 
 solved in one grand leading desire — 
 which appears to have taken possession 
 of every performer, from JVlori and his 
 violin, down to the .boarding school miss 
 who has just commenced her first " Piano 
 Divertimento," the alpli!^ and omega 
 upon their respective instruments — a de 
 
 * The card of the Golden Lion at Haarlem 
 was likewise obligingly comiimnicated by Vf. 
 G. for the engraving. 
 
693 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-^JUNE 1. 
 
 694 
 
 sire lo astound by tlie rapidity of their 
 execution. This disease has not confined 
 itself to instrumental, for, unfortunately, 
 our vocal performers are bitten with the 
 self same mania. 
 
 Some two or three seasons back, when 
 " Figaro " was adapted to the English 
 stage, it created a sort of rivalry between 
 the different bands, especially in the per- 
 formance of the overlure. I heard the 
 palm adjudged to the band of the Opera 
 House, not from the superior skill or 
 expression with which they executed it, 
 but that they could get throvgh it in 
 several seconds less than either of the 
 other bands- Shade of Mozart ! to ap- 
 preciate the performance of thy divine 
 compositions — as they would appreciate 
 the value of a race horse — ^by speed ! 
 
 It is to be hoped that a new musical 
 era will shortly commence in this country, 
 and that the " votaries of Apollo" will in 
 fiiture study music for the sake of the 
 "heaveply maid." As rapidity of execu- 
 tion may be considered to have reached 
 its climax, assuredly no new candidate 
 for fame will think of attempting to out- 
 vie the feat that was performed just three 
 years ago. 
 
 Mr. Scarborough, the organist of Spald- 
 ing, betted that he would strike One 
 Million of notes on the piano in the space 
 of twelve hours. This singular wager 
 was decided on the 4th of June 1828. 
 
 Mr. S. took a compass of three octaves, 
 ascending and descending the different 
 scales, and struck — 
 
 109,296 notes in the 1st hour. 
 125;928 2nd 
 
 121,176 3rd 
 
 121,176 4th 
 
 125,136 Sth 
 
 125,136 6th 
 
 127,512 7th 
 
 127,512 8th 
 
 47,520 20 minutes. 
 
 Making 1,030,392 notes in eight hours 
 and twenty minutes, which, with the 
 periods of rest, amounted to eleven hours 
 and forty-five minutes. 
 
 Henry Brandon. 
 
 SJune 7. 
 
 Ou the 7th of June, 1741, died William 
 Aikman, an artist of eminence. He was 
 the only son of William Aikman, of 
 
 Caimes, Esq., by Margaret, daughter of 
 Sir John Clerk, of Pennycuick, hart. He 
 was born October 24, 1681, and placed 
 under Sir John Medina. From London 
 he travelled to Rome, Constantinople, and 
 Smyrna, whence he returned to London, 
 and afterwards to Scotland, under the 
 patronage of General John Duke of 
 Argyle, and other noblemen of that king- 
 dom. Having remained there two or three 
 years, he again visited London, where he 
 was greatly esteemed. His father was an 
 advocate, who intended him for the pro- 
 fession of the law ; but he quilted it for 
 his favorite art, to which he united the 
 sister arts of poetry and music ; and 
 became, with ardour, the muses' friend. 
 Aikman brought Allan Ramsay into no- 
 tice in Edinburgh, and James Thomson 
 in London ; introducing the latter not 
 only to the first wits in England, but to 
 Sir Robert Walpole. There was also a 
 particular friendship between Aikman and 
 Somerville. His health declining, he was 
 advised to return to Scotland ; but died 
 in Leicester Fields, when only forty-nine. 
 His only son, John, died on the 14th of 
 January preceding. Their remains were 
 taken to the Grey Friars' cemetery in 
 Edinburgh, and buried in the same grave; 
 Mallet wrote upon them this 
 
 Epitaph. 
 Bear to the good atid wise, dieprais'd by none. 
 Here sleep in peace, the father and the son ; 
 By virtue, as by nature, close allied. 
 The painter's genius, but without the pride : 
 Worth unambitious, wit afraid to shine ; 
 Honor's clear light, and friendship's warmth 
 divine. 
 ' The son, fair rising, knew too short a date ; 
 But Oh ! how more severe the parent's fate ! 
 He saw him torn untimely from his side. 
 Felt all a father's anguish— wept and died. 
 
 Allan Ramsay testified his grateful recol- 
 lection of his friend Aikman by affectionate 
 verses to his memory.* 
 
 Vandyck's Method of Painting. 
 Jabac, an eminent French connoissenr, 
 was so intimate with Vandyck that he 
 painted Jabac's portrait three times con 
 amore, and confidentially communicated to 
 him his method of painting. Jabac was 
 observing to him how little time he be- 
 stowed on his portraits; Vandyck an- 
 swered that, at first, he worked hard, and 
 
 ' Noble. 
 
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 8. 
 
 696 
 
 took a great deal of pains to acquire a 
 reputation, and with a swift hand, against 
 the time that he should work " for his 
 kitchen." Vandyck's general habit was 
 this : — he appointed the day and hour for 
 ihe person's sitting, and worked not above 
 an hour upon any portrait, either in rub- 
 bing in, or finishing : so that as soon as 
 his clock informed him that his hour was 
 past, he rose up and made a bow to the 
 sitter, to signify that he had finished ; and 
 tht-n appointed another hour, on some 
 other day ; whereupon his servant ap- 
 peared with a fresh pallet and pencils, 
 whilst he was receiving another sitter, 
 wliose hour had been appointed. By 
 this method, he commanded expedition. 
 After having lightly dead-colored the face, 
 he put the sitter into some attitude which 
 he had before contrived ; and on grey 
 paper, with white and black crayons, he 
 sketched the attitude and drapery, which 
 he designed in a grand manner and ex- 
 quisite taste. After this, he gave the 
 dravving to the skilful people he had 
 about him, to paint after the sitter's own 
 clothes, which, at Vandyck's request, 
 were sent to him for that purpose. When 
 his assistants had copied these draperies, 
 he went over that part of the picture 
 again, and thus by a shortened process, 
 he displayed all that art and truth which 
 we at this day admire in them. He kept 
 persons in his house of both sexes, from 
 whom he painted the hands, and he cul- 
 tivated a friendship with the ladies who 
 had the most beautiful, to allow him to 
 popy them. He was thus ena.bled to de- 
 lineate them, with a surprising delicacy 
 and admirable coloring. He very fre- 
 quently used a brown color, composed of 
 prepared peach stones, as a glazing for 
 the haiFj'&c. He had not remitted his 
 practice of painting, till a few days be- 
 fore his death.* 
 
 According to Mr. Norlhcote, Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds said of Gainsborough, that he 
 copied Vandyck so exquisitely, that at a 
 certain distance, he could not distinguish 
 the copy from the original ; nor the dif- 
 ference between them. 
 
 h. m. 
 June 7. Sun rises .... 3 48 
 
 sets .... 8 12 
 
 Monkey flower, and Lanceolate thistle 
 flower. 
 
 • Walpoie. 
 
 3JUtte 8. 
 Riding of Lanark Marches, 
 
 This ceremony is of very ancient date, 
 and must be performed annually on the 
 day following the last Wednesday of 
 May, old style; consequently it takes 
 place early in June. 
 
 The morning is ushered in by boys as- 
 sembling in crowds, and patrolling the 
 streets. Their first care is to procure 
 the clerk and treasurer of the burgh, whose 
 presence cannot be dispensed with. 
 These being got, the procession moves off 
 to the sound of drum and fife. At one of 
 the marches, where the Mouse separates 
 the burgh lands from those of Lockhart of 
 Lee, a pit stone is pointed out, standing 
 in the middle of a gentle pool. Tliis is 
 the ducking hole. Such as, for the first 
 time, have enrolled themselves under the 
 banners of the procession, must wade in, 
 and grope for the stone, during which act 
 they are tumbled over and ducked, to the 
 no small satisfaction of the spectators. 
 There is no distinction of rank — were ilie 
 greatest potentate to appear, he would 
 share the fate of the most humble plebeian. 
 As soon as the novices are immersed, the 
 whole then move off to the woods of Jer- 
 viswood and Cleghorn, and cut down — 
 not small twigs, but stately boughs of 
 birch, with which they return, and march 
 through the principal streets in regular 
 procession, to the sound of music. The 
 proprietors of these lands have at different 
 times attempted to prevent the destroying 
 of their trees, but in vain. The number 
 of men and boys in the procession may be 
 estimated at 400. The effect is peculiarly 
 grand, and has all the appearance of a 
 moving forest. 
 
 The procession being ended, the most 
 celebratad vocalists of the cavalcade form 
 themselves into a circle at the cross, and 
 sing the popular sopg of " Scots wlia hae 
 wi' Wallace bled." This part of the 
 ceremony is of modern introduction, and 
 owes its origin to the placing of the statue 
 of the great Scottish hero in the east front 
 of the church only a few years ago. 
 
 In the early part of the day, the Council 
 and seat of Deacons assemble at the house 
 of the cornet or standard-bearer, where 
 they are very popiously regaled. They 
 then proceed with the standard to the 
 house of him who is appointed keeper for 
 the ensuing year. It is kept by the bur- 
 gesses and trades alternately, This stand' 
 
607 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 8. 
 
 iB98 
 
 ard was taken hy Admiral Lockhart Ross 
 of the Tartar, and by him presented to 
 the burgh. The rude hand of time has 
 now reduced it to a rag. At noon, the 
 town drummer, on horseback, with his 
 spirit-stirring tantara, appears,^ which is 
 the signal for congregating the equestrians 
 who are to join the Magistrates and Town 
 Council in riding the land-marches. 
 
 A public instrument was taken in the 
 year 1775, upon the 9th of June, in pre- 
 sence of John Wilson, notary public, and 
 witnesses, wherein the Lord Provost, 
 Bailies, Council and Community of said 
 burgh, did, for performance of the ancient 
 yearly custom, and for the knowledge of 
 the freedoms and liberties of their burgh, 
 in riding of their marches, and bounding 
 of their common lands, which appertain 
 to the said burgh, pass upon foot and 
 horse-back to the marches after specified, 
 for the common weal of the said burgh, 
 and to make their marches known to all 
 neighbours adjacent thereto — " In the 
 first place, beginning at the foot of the 
 burn at Lockhart bridge, on the water of 
 Mouse, and passing therefrom, north-east, 
 to the new march stone at the hedge at 
 the New Mains burn, at the foot of the 
 brae, where the said burn begins to run 
 towards the water of Mouse, from thence 
 to the new march-stone on the hedge in 
 the park opposite to the wood, and from 
 thence passing southwards to the new 
 march-stone on said hedge, about twenty 
 five due's distant from the former ; from 
 thence passing north east to the new march- 
 stone, close to the inside of the dyke, on 
 the south side of the entry to Jerviswood 
 house, at the place where the old stone 
 dyke, now demolished, ended, which 
 formerly was accounted the march ; and 
 from thence to the march-stone on the 
 north side of the King's high-street, at 
 Leitchford ; from thence to the gate at 
 said foord, and up the water of Mouse/ 
 while unto the path that passed from the 
 said mid-water to the meadow burn pass- 
 ing soutfi, passing south up the march- 
 dyke of the hill, and march-stone there, 
 south-east the gate to the march-stone on 
 the neuk of the dyke at Mouse bridge, 
 passing south-east the gate in the mid fold, 
 from thence passing to the Balgreen, to a 
 march-stone on the common gate, and 
 from that place, passing the gate and 
 march dyke southeastward, to the east 
 dyke to the Stack-hiH, thro' the little moss 
 to the common gate that passes to Raven- 
 strutber, and dien uassing tlie yett of 
 
 Ravenstruther, passing down that dyke 
 totthe river at Cobblehaugh, passing west 
 the dyke to the new march-stone on the 
 Hardstonlaw, and then passing west the 
 gate to the old Pine-fold, and then passing 
 to the east end of the Loiigloch, and pass- 
 ing west therefrom the south gate to the 
 march-stone beSouth the Rood of Cross, 
 and from that stone even thro' the moss to 
 Braxmoss — ^within which bounds, the haill 
 common lands, mosses and muirs, apper- 
 tain to the burgh of Lanark, and inhabi- 
 tants thereof, and have been yearly bound- 
 ed and ridden by the Provost, Bailies, 
 Council, and Community of the said 
 burgh, past memory of man, without stop 
 or impediment whatever, as divers and 
 sundry instruments taken thereon purport. 
 Like as the present day and year, the 
 Provost, Bailies, Council, and Com- 
 munity of the said bujgh have ridden 
 said marches, and caused their officers in 
 our Sovereign Lord's name and authority, 
 fence and arrest all fewell, fail, peais and 
 divotes, which are casten within said 
 bounds by an unfree or out-townsman, that 
 none remove the same oS the grounds 
 whereon they lye, but that the same re- 
 main under sure arrestment at their in- 
 stance, ay and while they be made fourth' 
 coming as law will, whereuoon and upon 
 all and sundry the premises, the treasurer 
 of the said burgh, in their name and upon 
 their behalf, asked and took instruments 
 one or more needful, in the hands of me, 
 John Wilson, notary public subscribing. 
 These things were done respectively and 
 successively at every march-stone, and 
 publicly at the mercate cross of Lanark, 
 between the hours of six in the morning 
 and three in the afternoon, before and in 
 presence of — " 8tc. 
 
 Having finished their rounds, the whol« 
 assemble on the race ground in the moor, 
 where a race is run for a pair of spurs. 
 — No horse is allowed to start except it 
 belong to a burgess, and has been ' pre- 
 viously carted. The bells are rung in the 
 rooming during the procession of the 
 birches, and at noon, while the ceremony 
 of riding the marches is performing. In 
 the afternoon the Magistrates and Council 
 dine in the County Hall, in company 
 with a number of the Burgesses and 
 gentlemen of the neighbourhood, and the 
 whole day is one of high festivity. The 
 corporations hold their annual meetings, 
 and no public business of any kind is 
 done. No weather, however tempestuous, 
 can hinder the observance of the ceremony 
 
099 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-JUNE 9 
 
 roo 
 
 — witnesses make oath, that the march- 
 stones are standing in the same situation 
 they left them " I'annee passde ;" and 
 their declaration is transmitted to the 
 crown. * 
 
 h. m. 
 June 8 . Sun rises .... 3 48 
 — sets . . . .. 8 12 
 Peach-leaved bell flower blows. 
 Bastard ilajr flowers. 
 Sword lilies become common. 
 Strawberries flower abundantly. 
 
 glUlie 9. 
 
 After the riding of the Lanark Marches 
 jresterday, this day may be dedicated to 
 an acquaintance with a few distinguished 
 Scottish personages — 
 
 Olb Lords of Session. 
 
 In the very interesting "Traditions of 
 Edinburgh by Mr. Chambers," which 
 largely assist the historian, and illustrate 
 the manners of by-gone days, there are 
 very curious anecdotes of remarkable vei- 
 sons and incidents. — 
 
 Lord Covington (Alexander Lockhart, 
 esq.), was appointed to the bench in 
 1774 and died in 1782. He was one of 
 the ablest lawyers of his time. Mr. 
 Lockhart and Mr. Fergusson (after- 
 ' wards Lord Fitfour) had always been 
 rivals, in their profession at the bar, 
 and were usually pitted against each 
 other as advocates in important cases. 
 In only one thing did they ever agree, 
 and that was the Jacobitism which af- 
 fected them in common. After the Re- 
 bellion of 1745 was finally suppressed, 
 many violently unjust, as well as bloody 
 measures, were resorted to, at Carlisle, in 
 the disposal of the prisoners, about seventy 
 of whom came to a barbarous death. 
 Messrs Lockhart and Fergusson, indig- 
 nant at the treatment of the poor High- 
 landers, resolved upon a course by which 
 they were able to save many lives. They 
 set out for Carlisle, and, offering their 
 services, were gladly accepted as counsel 
 by the unfortunate persons whose trials 
 were yet to happen. These gentlemen 
 airranged with each othter that Lockhart 
 should examine «videnoe, while Fergusson 
 
 • From an Edinburgh Newspaporj 1827. 
 
 pleaded and addressed the Jury ; — Each 
 exerted his abilities iu his respective 
 duties with the greatest solicitude, but 
 with very little effect. The jurors of Car- 
 lisle had been so frightened by the High- 
 land army, that they thought every thing 
 in the shape or hue of tartan a certain 
 proof of guilt. They discriminated so 
 little between one alleged criminal and 
 another, that the victims of a sinking cause 
 might have been just as fairly and much 
 more conveniently tried by wholesale, or 
 in companies. At ■ length one of the 
 Scottish Advocates devised an expedient 
 which had a better effect than all the elo- 
 quence he had expended. He directed 
 his man-servant to dress himself in some 
 tartan habiliments, to skulk about for a 
 short time^in the neighbourhood of the 
 town, and then permit himself to be taken. 
 The man did so, and was soon brought 
 into court, and accused of the crime of 
 high-treason, and would have been con- 
 demned to death, had not his master stood 
 up, claimed him as his servant, and 
 proved, beyond dispute, that the supposed 
 criminal had been in immediate attend- 
 ance upon him during the whole time of 
 the Rebellion. This staggered the jury, 
 and, with a little amplification from the 
 young Advocate, served to make them 
 more cautious afterwards in the delivery 
 of their important fiat. — Lockhart (Lord 
 Covington) was held in such estimation 
 as an advocate, that the late Lord New- 
 ton, when at the bar, wore Lockhart's 
 .gown till it was in tatters, and at last had 
 a new one made, with a fragment of the 
 neck of the original sewed into it, where- 
 by he could still make it his boast thait 
 he wore " .Qovingtpn's Gown." 
 
 liOrd Pitfour, who died in 1777, owed 
 his elevation to the bench in 17&4 to thp 
 late Earl Mansfield, whose official duly 
 it was to inform his majesty of the va- 
 cancy, and who had influence in supply- 
 ing it The news of the vacancy reached 
 Lord Mansfield, while attending a levee 
 at St. James's, and, instantly bethinking 
 himself of his friend Fergusson, he spoke in 
 his favor to the king, and in addition to 
 his own recommendation brought for- 
 ward the Puke of .Argyll, whom, strange 
 to say, he caused to testify to the loyalty 
 of the Jacobite barrister, by putting the 
 question to him in so direct and confident 
 a manner that his grace, out of polite- 
 
701 
 
 THE YEAR BOOIi. -JUNE 9. 
 
 708 
 
 ness, could not help bowing. This, of 
 course, was taken as sufficient assurance 
 by his majesty, who could not doubt the 
 attestation of so attached and so whiggish 
 a nobleman. Fergusson had just as great 
 expectations of becoming the Lama of 
 Thibet as of being made a senator of 
 the College of Justice. Lord Pitfour 
 always wore his hat on the bench on ac- 
 count of his sore eyes. 
 
 Lord Monboddo (James Burnet, Esq.), 
 appointed a lord of session 1767, died in 
 J 799. He once embroiled himself in a 
 law-plea respecting a horse which be- 
 longed to himself. His lordship had 
 committed the anima., when sick, to the 
 charge of a farrier, wiih directions for the 
 administration of a certain medicine. The 
 farrier gave the medicine, but went be- 
 yond his commission, in so far as he mixed 
 it in a liberal menstruum of treacle, in 
 order to make it palatable. The horse 
 dying next moniing, Lord Monboddo 
 raised a prosecution for its value, and ac- 
 tually pleaded his own cause at the bar. 
 He lost it, however, and is said to have been 
 so enraged in consequence at his brother 
 judges, that he never afterwards sal with 
 them upon the bench, but underneath, 
 amongst the clerks. The report of this 
 case is exceedingly amusing, on account 
 of the great quantity of Roman law 
 quoted by the judges, and the strange 
 circumstances under which the case ap- 
 peared before them. With all his oddities, 
 and though generally hated or despised 
 by his brethren, Monboddo was by far 
 the most learned, and not the least up- 
 right judge of his time. His attainments 
 in classical learning, and in the study of 
 ancient philosophy, were singular in his 
 time in Scotland. He was the earliest 
 patron of the venerable professor John 
 Hunter of St. Andrew's, who was for 
 many years his secretary, and who chiefly 
 Wrote the first and best volume of his 
 Lordship's Treatise on the Origin of Lan- 
 guages. When Lord Monboddo travelled 
 to London, he always went on horseback. 
 It is said that the late king, George III., 
 on understanding this, and being told that 
 two dragoon officers had just come ilp 
 from Scotland in a post-chaise, remarked 
 it was strange that one of his law-judges 
 should visit him on horseback, wbil« ji's 
 dragoons adopted^ the more civilian-likt 
 mode of conveyance. On lord Mon- 
 
 boddo's last journey he only got the 
 length of Dunbar, and then returned. 
 His nephew enquiring the occasion of 
 this — " Oh George," said hislordsliip, " I 
 find I am eighty-four." — So convinced 
 was Lord Monboddo of the truth of his 
 fantastic theory of human tails, that, when- 
 ever a child happened to be born in his 
 house, he watched at the chamber-door, 
 in order to see it in its first state — having 
 a notion that the attendants pinched off 
 the infant-tails. There is a tradition, that 
 Lord Monboddo witnessed the death of 
 Captain Porteus by the mob in 1 735. He 
 had that day returned from completing his 
 law-education at Leyden, and taken lodg- 
 ings near the foot of the West Bow, where 
 many of the greatest lawyers then resided. 
 When the rioters came down the Bow 
 with their victim, Mr. Burnet was roused 
 from bed by the noise, came down in his 
 night-gown, with a candle in his hand, 
 and stood in a sort of stupor, looking on 
 and still holding the lighted candle, till 
 the tragedy was concluded. It is further 
 added, that he was apprehended and -ex- 
 amined next day by the magistrates. 
 Lord Monboddo, while a judge, had a 
 good house in St. John's Street, where 
 Burns often attended the parties given by 
 his lordship's beautiful daughter. 
 
 Another Lord of Session (Henry Home 
 Esq.) Lord Kames, appointed in 1752, 
 died in 1783. He was distinguished for 
 his metaphysical subtilty and literary 
 abilities, and admired for extraordinary 
 powers of conversation ; yet he was strange- 
 ly accustomed to apply towards his inti- 
 mate friends the term which designates a 
 she-dog. It is well taken off in Sir Wal- 
 ter Scott's " Red Gauntlet." When Lord 
 Kames retired from the Bench, he took a 
 public farewell of hi« brethren. After ad 
 dressing them in a solemn speech, and 
 shaking their hands all round, in going 
 out at the door of the Court-Room, he 
 turned about, and, casting them a last 
 look, cried, in his usual familiar tone, 
 — " Fare ye a' weel, ye bitches !" This 
 might be called the ruling passion strong 
 in death, for Lord Kames died a very 
 short virhile thereafter. A man called 
 Sinkum the Cadie, who had a short and a 
 long leg, and was excessively addicted to 
 swearing, used to lie in wait for this dis- 
 tinguished Judge, almost every morning, 
 and walk alongside of his Lordship up 
 
ro3 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 9. 
 
 704 
 
 the street to the Parliament-House. The 
 mystery of Sterne's little flattering French- 
 man, who begged so successfully from 
 the ladies, was scarcely more wonderful 
 than this intimacy, which arose entirely 
 from Lord Kames love of the gossip 
 which Sinkum made it his business to 
 cater for him. 
 
 Lord Hailes (Sir David Dalrymple) 
 another Lord of Session, appointed in 
 1766, died in 1792 apparently without a 
 will. Great search was made, no testa- 
 mentary paper could be discovered, the 
 heir-at-law was about to take possession of 
 his estates, to the exclusion of his daughter 
 and only child, and Miss Dalrymple pre- 
 pared to retire from New Hailes, and from 
 the mansion-house in New Street. Some of 
 her domestics, however, were sent to lock 
 up the house in New Street, and, in clos- 
 ing the window-shutters, there dropped 
 out upon the floor, from behind a panel, 
 Lord Hailes's will, which was found to se- 
 cure her in the possession of his estates. 
 — A. story is told of Lord Hailes once 
 making a serious objection to a law-paper, 
 and, in consequence, to the whole suit to 
 which it belonged, on account of the word 
 justice being spelt in the usual manner, 
 and as here printed : his lordship contend- 
 ed that it should have another e at the 
 eni—justicee. Perhaps no author ever af- 
 fected so much critical accuracy, and yet 
 there never was a book published with so 
 large an array of" Corrigenda et addenda," 
 as the first edition of Lord Hailes's " An- 
 nals of Scotland." 
 
 The LOid President Dundas (Robert 
 Dundas, Esq., of Arniston) who died in 
 1787, was in his latter years extremely 
 subject to gout, and accustomed to fall 
 backwards and forwards in his chair. 
 He used to characterise his six clerks 
 thus : — "Two of them cannot read; two of 
 them cannot lorite ; and the other two can 
 neither read not write/" The ec"entric 
 Sir James Colquhoun was one of the two 
 who could not read. — In former times, it 
 was the practice of the Lord President to 
 have a sand-glass before him on the bench, 
 which measured out the utmost time that 
 could be allowed to a Judge for the de- 
 livery of his opinion. Lord President 
 Dundas would never allow a single mo- 
 ment after the expiry of the sand, and 
 often shook his old-fashioned chronometer 
 ominously in the faces of his Brethren, 
 when their " ideas upon the subject" be- 
 gan to get vague and windy. 
 
 Lord Gardenstone (Francis Gardner 
 Esq.), who died in 1793, also a lord of ses- 
 sion and author of several literary works, 
 had strange eccentric fancies, in his mode 
 of living: he seemed to indulge these 
 chiefly with a view to his health, which 
 was always that of a valetudinarian. He 
 had a predilection for pigs. A young 
 one took a particular fancy for his Lord- 
 ship, and followed him wherever he went 
 like a dog, reposing in the same bed. 
 When it attained- the years and size of 
 swinehood, this was inconvenient. How- 
 ever, his Lordship, unwilling to part with 
 his friend, continued to let it sleep in his 
 bed room, and, when he undressed, laid 
 his clothes upon the floor, as a bed to it. 
 He said that he liked the pig, for it kept 
 )iis clothes warm till the morning. 
 
 Huur Glasses in Coffins. 
 
 A writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, 
 1746, says, "in June, 1718, as [ was 
 walking into the fields, I stopt in Clerk- 
 enwell church-yard to see a grave-digger 
 at work. He had dug pretty deep, and 
 was come to a coffin, which had lain so 
 long that it was quite rotten, and the plate 
 eaten so with rust, that he could not read 
 any thing of the inscription. In clearing 
 away the rotten pieces of wood, the grave- 
 digger found an hour-glass close to the 
 left side of the skull, with sand in it, the 
 wood of which was so rotten that it broke 
 where he took hold of it. Being a lover 
 of antiquity, I bought it of him, and took 
 a draught of it as it then appeared : some 
 time after, mentioning this affair in com- 
 pany of some antiquarians, they told me 
 that is was an ancient custom to put an 
 hour-glass into the coffin, as an emblem of 
 the sand of life being run out ; others 
 conjectured that little hour-glasses were 
 anciently given at funerals, like rosemary, 
 and by the friends of the dead put in 
 the coffin, or thrown into the grave." 
 
 June 9. Sun rises . . . 
 — sets . . . 
 Lurid Iris flowers. 
 Wolfs-bane flowers.. 
 Deadly nightshade flowers. 
 
 3 47 
 8 13 
 
705 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 9. 
 
 706 
 
 VICARAGE HOUSE, ThAME, OXFORDSHIRE. 
 
 It will appear from the annexed com- 
 munication, which was accompanied by 
 an original drawing for the present en- 
 graving, that there are interesting anec- 
 dotes connected with this spot. 
 
 [For the Year Book, j 
 
 During the civil wars of the seven- 
 teenth century, Thame was surrounded 
 by garrisons of the contending parties, 
 and, consequently, partook of the mise- 
 ries of the period. ' 
 
 Anthony a' Wood, the Oxford anti- 
 quary, was then a student in the town, 
 and he has minutely recorded several of 
 the skiimishes he witnessed. A part of 
 his narrative vividly portrays the confii- 
 sion." He says, "on the 27th of January, 
 1644, Colonel Thomas Blagge, governor 
 of Wallingford Castle, roving about the 
 countiy very early, with a troop of stout 
 horsemen, consisting of seventy or eighty 
 at most, met with a party of parlia- 
 menteers, or rebels, of at least 200, at 
 long Crendon, about a mile northward 
 from Thame ; which 200 belonged to the 
 garrison of Aylesbury, and, being headed 
 by a Scot called Colonel Crafford, who, 
 as I think, was governor of the garrison 
 there, they pretended that they were look- 
 ing out quarters for them. Colonel 
 Blagge fought with, and made them run, 
 till his men, following them too eagerly, 
 were overpowered by multitudes that 
 Vol. 1—23. 
 
 afterwards came in to their assistance ; at 
 which time he himself, with his stout cap- 
 tain Walter (they two only), fought against 
 a great many of the rebels for a long time 
 together, in which encounter the brave 
 colonel behaved himself as manfully with 
 his sword as ever man did, slashing and 
 beating so many fresh rebels with such 
 courage and dexterity, that he would not 
 stir till he had brought off his own men, 
 whereof the rebels killed but two (not a 
 man more), though they took sixteen, 
 who staid too long behind. Captain 
 Walter had six rebels upon him, and, ac- 
 cording to his custom, fought it out so 
 gallantly that he brought himself off with 
 his colonel, and got home safe to Wal- 
 lingford, with all their men except eigh- 
 teen. Colonel Blagge was cut over the 
 face, and had some other hurts, but not 
 dangerous. After the action was con- 
 cluded at Crendon, and Blagge and his 
 "len forced to fly homewards, they took 
 part of Thame in their way, and A. Wood 
 and his fellow sojourners being then at 
 dinner in the parlour with some strangers, 
 they were all alarmed with their ap- 
 proach ; and, by that time [that] they could 
 run out of the house to look over the 
 pale that parts it from the common road, 
 they saw a great number of horsemen 
 posting towards Thame over Crendon 
 bridge, about a stone's cast from their 
 house (being the only house on that road 
 2A 
 
707 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 10. 
 
 7oe 
 
 'jefore you come into Thame), and, at the 
 head of them, was Blagge, with a bloody 
 face, and his party, with Captain Walter 
 following him. The number, as was then 
 guessed by A. Wood, and others of the 
 family, was fifty, or more, and they all 
 rode under the said pale, and close by the 
 house. They did not ride in order, but 
 each made shift to be foremost ; and, one 
 of them riding upon a shelving ground 
 opposite to the door, his horse slipped, 
 fell upon one side, and threw the rider 
 (a lusty man), in A. Wood's sight. 
 Colonel Crafford, who was well horsed, 
 at a pretty distance before his man in 
 pursuit, held a pistol to him, but, the 
 trooper crying out 'quarter,' the rebels 
 came up, rifled him, and took him 
 and his horse away with them. Craf- 
 ford rode on without touching him, and 
 ever and anon he would be discharging 
 his pistol at some of the fagg end of 
 Blagge's horse, who rode through the west 
 end of Thame, called Priest-end, leading 
 towards Rycote." 
 
 After relating the particulars of another 
 skirmish, A. Wood says, "This alarm and 
 onset were made by the cavaliers from 
 Oxon, abbut break of day on Sunday, 
 September 7, before any of the rebels 
 were stirring : but, by the alarm taken 
 from the sentinel that stood at the end of 
 the town, leading to Oxon, many of them 
 came out of their beds into the market- 
 place, without their doublets, whereof 
 adjutant-general Pride was one, who fought 
 in his shirt. Some that were quartered 
 near the church (as, in the vicar's house, 
 where A. Wood then sojourned, and 
 others) fled into the church (some with 
 their horses also), and, going to the top 
 of the tower, would be peeping thence to 
 see the cavaliers run into the . houses 
 where they quartered, to fetch away their 
 goods." 
 
 Ofteil in my walks past the vicarage, 
 atid my visits to it, I think on the above 
 passage in Anthony a' Wood, and picture 
 to myself the young antiquarian disturbed 
 from his dinner in the parlour, and leaning 
 with his " fellow-sojourners" over the 
 pales (on the right of the house), behold- 
 ing " the brave colonel Blagge with a 
 bloody face," and his " fifty or more stout 
 horsemen" coming in full speed across 
 the railed bridge, pursued by Crafford 
 " and the rebels ;" and I am greatly as 
 sisted in these my reveries, by the circum- 
 stance of the bridge, the house, the road, 
 Ihe shelving bank, and, indeed, all the 
 
 immediate neighbourhood of the place, 
 having experienced but little change since 
 those eventful and unhappy times which 
 the interesting historian so minutely de- 
 scribes. 
 
 The antiquary s pen has given a sort 
 of evcrlastingness to the event : and I 
 hope Mr. Hone will assist my humble 
 endeavours to preserve the edifice yet " a 
 little longer," which is associated so closely 
 with it, and which, though depicted liy 
 an unskilful hand, will be found to be 
 tolerably correct in all its features. 
 I am, &c. 
 
 J. K. 
 
 Thartle, April 1831. 
 
 ^um 10. 
 
 lOth of June, 1735, Thomas Ilearne, 
 the antiquary, died at Edmund Hall, 
 Oxon, at the age of 57. He was born at 
 Littlefield Green, in the parish of White 
 Waltham, Berks. His father, George 
 Hearne, was parish-clerk, and resided in 
 the vicarage-house, for which he paid no 
 rent in consequence of his instructing 
 eight boys in reading, writing, and arith- 
 metic, and the Latin grammar. Thomas 
 was sent as an assistant in the kitchen of 
 the learned and pious Francis Cherry, Esqi 
 but being uncouth in his person, clownish 
 in his manners, and having his " nose 
 always in a book," he became the ridi- 
 cule of his party-colored brethren. — 
 Complaints were frequently made that 
 Hearne would not even clean the knives, 
 and Mr. Cherry, whose kindness would 
 not suffer him to dismiss any servant with- 
 out examining into the whole of his con- 
 duct, found that this scrub in his kitchen 
 possessed a mind far above his station, 
 upon which he boarded him at his father's, 
 and paid for his education at Bray, three 
 long miles from Waltham. Hearne's im- 
 provement was rapid ; and, on the recom- 
 mendation of the learned Mr. Dodwell, 
 Mr. Cherry received the youth again to 
 his own house, not as a servant, but as 
 one whom he patronized. This worthy 
 gentleman entered him, when seventeen 
 years of age, at Edmund Hall, Oxford, 
 where he was even then able to collate 
 Greek MSS. Vulgar and unsocial, and 
 vehement in tory principles, he abhorred 
 all who supported the line of Brunswick. 
 He held an office in the Bodleian library, 
 which he lost on account of his religious 
 
ro9 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE U. 
 
 and political virulence. The scholar, 
 the historian, and the antiquary are emi- 
 nently indebted to Hearne's researches. 
 It may be said of him that he had no 
 relations but manuscripts ; no acquaint- 
 ance but with books; no progeny but 
 edited fragments of antiquity. After a 
 life of labor, care, and perplexity, from 
 intense application and illiberal manners, 
 he was attended on his death-bed by a 
 Roman Catholic priest, who gained ad- 
 mission to him, after he had refused 
 to see a nonjuring clergyman. He left 
 behind him a considerable sum of money, 
 with a great quantity of valuable MSS., 
 which he bequeathed to Dr. William Bed- 
 ford, who sold them to Dr. Rawlinson. 
 They afterwards fell into the hands of 
 Moore Chester Hall, Esq., of Wickford, 
 Essex, and at his death were the property 
 of his widow : from that period no traces 
 of them could be discovered. It is be- 
 lieved that Hearne never had the curiosity 
 to visit London. His person was well de- 
 scribed by Mr. Cherry's daughter, the late 
 Mrs. Berkley, who was as great a curi- 
 osity as even Hearne himself. She says, 
 " Of all the lumber-headed, stupid-looking 
 beings, he had the most stupid appearance, 
 not only in his countenance (generally 
 the index of the mind) but in his every 
 limb. No neck, his head looking as if he 
 was peeping out of a sack of corn ; his 
 arms short and clumsy, remarkably ill 
 placed on his body ; his legs ditto, as, I 
 think, is evidently seen in a print which 
 my mother had of him. In short, I have 
 wondered that such a looking being should 
 have been admitted (as a servant) into a 
 genteel family." 
 
 June 10. Sun rises . 
 — sets . . 
 Doubtful poppy flowers. 
 
 3 47 
 8 13 
 
 gjune 11. 
 
 St. Barnabas Dat. 
 
 To the particulars under this day in the 
 EaeTy-Day Book, may be added, on the 
 authority of Mr. Brand, who was minister 
 of the parish of St. Maiy at Hill, London, 
 the following charges in the churchwar- 
 den's accounts of that parish, 17 and 19 
 Edward IV. 
 
 " For ELose-garhndis and Woodrove- 
 garlondis, on St. Barnebes' Daye, xjd." 
 
 And, under the year 1486 ; 
 
 " Item, for two doss' di Bosce-gartands 
 for prestes and clerks on Saynt Barnabe 
 daye, jj. xrf." 
 
 In explanation of " Woodrove" gar- 
 lands Mr. Brand cites, from Gerard's 
 Herbal, — " Woodroffe, Asperula hath 
 many square stalkes, full of joynts, and at 
 every knot or joynt seven or eight long 
 narrow leaves, set round about like a star, 
 or the rowell of a spurre. The flowres 
 grow at the top of the stems, of a white 
 colour and of a very sweet smell, as is the 
 rest of the herbe, which being made up 
 into garlands or bundles, and hanging up 
 in houses in the heat of summer, doth 
 very well attemper the aire, code and 
 make fresh the place, to the delight and 
 comfort of such as are therein. — Wood- 
 roofe is named of divers in Latine Aspe- 
 rula odorata, and of most men Aspergula 
 odorata: of others Cordialis, and Stellaria : 
 in English, Woodroofle, Woodrowe, and 
 Woodrowell. It is reported to be put 
 into wins, to make a man merry, and to 
 be good for the heart and liver." 
 
 On the 11th of June, 1727, king George 
 I. died at Osnaburgh, of a fit of apoplexy, 
 which he was attacked with in his car- 
 riage, on his way to that city. 
 
 Argyle Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 A tailor in London, named Campbell, 
 having secured the good graces of his 
 chief, the duke of Argyle, was promised 
 the first favor which that nobleman could 
 throw in his way. Upon the death of 
 George I., which took place abroad, the 
 duke receiving very early intelligence, 
 concealed it from the whole court for a 
 few hours, and only divulged the import- 
 ant news to his friend, the tailor, who, 
 ere his less favored brethren in trade were 
 aware, went and bought up all the black 
 cloth in town, and forthwith drove such 
 a trade, in supplying people with mourn- 
 ing at his own prices, that he shortly 
 realised a little fortune, and laid the 
 foundation of a greater. This he after- 
 wards employed in building a few of the 
 houses in Argyle-square, and conferred 
 that name on them in honor of his patron.* 
 
 Dress, Temp. George I. 
 
 There was not much variation in dress 
 during this reigii. The king was advanced 
 
 * Chambers's Tiadiiions of Edinburgh, i. 44. 
 2 A2 
 
rn 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-JUNE 12 
 
 712 
 
 in years, and seldom mixed with his sub- 
 fects; and the act which precluded the 
 granting of honors to foreigners pre- 
 vented many German gentlemen from 
 Wsiting England. There was no queen 
 in England, and the ladies who accom- 
 panied his Majesty .were neither by birth, 
 propriety of conduct, age, nor beauty, qua- 
 lified to make any impression on prevail- 
 ing modes. The peace with Frarce caused 
 more intercourse between the two coun- 
 tries than had subsisted for many years ; 
 and a slight difference was introduced in 
 the shape of the clothing, but so little as 
 to be scarcely worth notice. Dr. John 
 Harris published, in 1715, an elaborale 
 " Treatise upon the Modes, or a Farewell 
 to French Kicks," 8vo. ; and on the par- 
 ticular recommendation of John, Duke of 
 Argyle, the reverend reprobater of French 
 fashions was made bishop of Landaff. 
 This clergyman endeavoured to dissuade 
 his countrymen from applying to foreigners 
 in matters of dress, because we have " a 
 right, and power, and genius," to supply 
 ourselves. The French tailors, he ob- 
 served, invented new modes of dress, and 
 dedicated them to great men, as authors 
 do books ;.as was the case with the roque- 
 laure cloak, which at that time displaced 
 the surtout; and which was called the 
 roquelaure from being dedicated to the 
 Duke of Eoquelaure, whose cloak and 
 title spread by this means throughout 
 France and Britain. Dr. Harris says, the 
 coat was not the invention of the French, 
 but its present modifications and adjuncts, 
 the pockets and pocket flaps, as well as 
 the magnitude of the plaits, which differ 
 from time to time in number, but always 
 agree in the mystical efficacy of an un- 
 equal number, were entirely derived from 
 France. 
 
 Yet the ladies reduced their shapes, as 
 if to represent insects, which seem to 
 have the two ends held together only by 
 a slender union. The consequence of 
 this partial excision of the body was de- 
 formity and ill health. In vain did the 
 Venus de Medicis prove that there is a 
 due proportion observed by nature : in 
 vain was it allowed that amongst un- 
 clothed Africans a crooked woman was 
 as great a rarity as a straight European 
 lady. Mademoiselle Pantine, a mistress 
 of Marshal Saxe, infested us with that 
 stiffened case which injured and destroyed 
 the fine natural symmetry of the female 
 form. The reproach of the poet was 
 little understood, and as little regarded — 
 
 ' No longer shall the boddlce, aptlj/ lae'd 
 * From the full bosom to the slender waists 
 ' That air and harmony of shape express, 
 ' Fine by degrees, and beautifully^ less, 
 
 Spanish broad cloth, trimmed with gold 
 lace, was still in' use for ladies' dresses ; 
 and scarfs, greatly furbelowed, were worn- 
 from the duchess to the peasant, as were 
 riding-hoods on horseback. The mask 
 continued till the following reign.* 
 
 June 1 1 . 
 
 h. m. 
 3 46 
 8 14 
 
 Sun rises . 
 — sets 
 Garden poppy flowers. > 
 Midsummer daisy already flowers in 
 some meadows. 
 
 Scarlet lychnis sometimes flowers about 
 ihis day 
 
 glune 13. 
 
 Farewell Aruna ! — " Still," in Fancy's ear. 
 As in the evening -wind, thy inurmers swell, 
 Th' enthusiast of the lyre, who wander'd here, 
 SeeQis yet to strike his visionary shell. 
 Of power to call forth Pity's tenderest tear. 
 Or wake wild Frenzy from her hideous cell .' 
 Charlotte Smith. 
 
 On the 12th of June, 1759, died, in 
 his thirty-seventh year, William Collins, ^ 
 one of the most unhappy of our most 
 gifted poets. 
 
 A contributor to memorials of Collins 
 says his father was a hatter at Chichester, 
 " He lived in a genteel style, and I think 
 filled the office of mayor more than once ; 
 he was pompous in his manners, but at 
 his death left his affairs rather embar- 
 rassed. Colonel Martyn, his wife's bro- 
 ther, greatly assisted his family; and 
 supported Mr. William Collins at the 
 university, where he stood for a fellow- 
 ship, which, to his great mortification, he 
 lost, and which was his reason for quitting 
 that place ; at least, that was his pretext. 
 But he had other reasons. He was in 
 arrears to his bookseller, his tailor, and 
 other tradesmen ; but, I believe, a desire 
 to partake of the gaiety and dissipation of 
 London was his principal motive. Co- 
 lonel Martyn was at this time with his 
 regiment; and Mr. Payne, a near rela- 
 tion, had the management of the CoUins's 
 afiTairs, and had, likewise, a commission 
 to supply the CoUins'a with small sums 
 
 * Noble. 
 
ri3 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— JUNE t2. 
 
 ri4 
 
 of money. The Colonel was the more 
 sparing in this order, having suffered con- 
 siderably by Alderman Collins, who had 
 formerly been his agent, and, forgetting 
 that his wife's brother's cash was not his 
 own, had applied it to his own use. 
 When Mr. William Collins came from 
 the university, he called on his cousin 
 Payne, gaily dressed, and with a feather 
 in his hat; at which his relation expressed 
 surprise, and told him his appearance 
 was by no means that of a young man 
 who had not a single guinea to call his 
 own. This gave him great offence; but, 
 remembering his sole dependence for 
 subsistence was in the power of Mr. 
 Payne, he concealed his resentment ; yet 
 could not refrain speaking freely behind 
 his back, and saying he thought him a 
 
 dull fellow; though this indeed 
 
 was an epithet he was pleased to bestow 
 on every one who did not think as he 
 would have them. His frequent demands 
 for a supply obliged Mr. Payne to tell 
 him he must pursue some other line of 
 life, for he was sure Colonel Martyn 
 would be displeased with him for having 
 done so much. This resource being stop- 
 ped, forced him to set about some work, 
 of which his History of the Revival of 
 Learning was the first, and for which he 
 printed proposals (one of which I have), 
 and took the first subscription money 
 from many of his particular friends. The 
 book was begun, but soon stood still. 
 From the freedom subsisting between us, 
 we took the liberty of saying any thing to 
 each other : I one day reproached him 
 with idleness ; when, to convince me that 
 my censure was unjust, he showed me 
 many sheets of his translation of Aris- 
 totle, which he said he had fully em- 
 ployed himself about, to prevent him 
 from calling on any of his friends so fre- 
 quently as he used to do. Soon after 
 this, he engaged with JVIr. Manby, a 
 bookseller on Ludgate Hill, to furnish 
 him with some lives for the Biographia 
 Britannica, which Manby was then pub- 
 lishing. He showed me some of the 
 lives in embryo, but I do not recollect 
 that any of them came to maturity. To 
 raise a present subsistence, he set about 
 writing his Odes; and, having a general 
 invitation to my home, he frequently 
 passed whole days there, which he em- 
 ployed in writing them, and as frequently 
 burning what he had written, after read- 
 ing them to me. Many of them which 
 pleased me I struggled to preserve, but 
 
 without effect ; for, pretending he would 
 alter them, he got them from me and 
 thrust them into the fire. He was an ac- 
 ceptable companion every where ; and, 
 among the gentlemen who loved him for 
 his genius, I may reckon Drs. Armstrong, 
 Barrowby, and Hill; and Messrs. Quin, 
 Garrack, and Foote, who frequently took 
 his opinion on their pieces, before they 
 were seen by the public. He was parti- 
 cularly noticed by the geniuses who fre- 
 quented the Bedford and Slaughter's cof- 
 fee-houses. From his knowledge of Gar- 
 rick, he had the liberty of the scenes aiid 
 green-room, where he made diverting ob- 
 servations on the vanity and false conse- 
 quence of that class of people ; and his 
 manner of relating them to his particular 
 friends was extremely entertaining. In 
 this manner he lived with and upon his 
 friends until the death of Colonel Mar- 
 tyn, who left what fortune he died pos- 
 sessed of to him and his two sisters. 1 
 fear I cannot be certain as to dates, but 
 believe he left the university in 1743. 
 Some circumstances I recollect make me 
 almost certain he was in London that 
 year ; but I will not be so positive of the 
 time he died, which I did not hear of 
 until long after it happened. When his 
 health and faculties began to decline, he 
 went to France, and afterward} to Bath, 
 in hopes his health might bg restored, 
 but without success. I never saw him 
 after his sister had removed him from 
 M'Donald's mad-house, at Chelsea, to 
 Chichester, where he soon sunk into n. 
 deplorable state of idiotism," 
 
 This brief outline might suffice for 
 ordinary readers ; and higher minds might. 
 " imagine all the rest," in the life of him, 
 " who more than any other of our martyr* 
 to the lyre, has thrown over all his images 
 and his thoughts a tenderness of mind, 
 and breathed a freshness over the pictures 
 of poetry, which the mighty Milton has 
 not exceeded, and the laborious Gray has 
 not attained." A few other passages, how- 
 ever, may be useful as warnings to some of 
 less ability and like temperament. The 
 incidents most interesting in the life of 
 Collins would be those events which elude 
 the vulgar biographer ; that invisible train 
 of emotions which were gradually passing 
 io his mind ; those passions which 
 moulded his genius, and which broke it ! 
 Who could record the vacillations of a 
 poetic temper; its early hope, and its litta 
 
ri5 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 12. 
 
 ri6 
 
 despair; its wild gaiety, and its settled 
 phreAzy ; but the poet himself? Yet Col- 
 lins has left behind no memorial of the 
 wanderings of his alienated mind, but the 
 errors of his life. — At college he pub- 
 lished his "Persian Eclogues," as they 
 were first called, to which, when he 
 thought tliey were not distinctly Persian, 
 he gave the more general title of " Ori- 
 ental :" yet the passage of Hassan, in the 
 desert, is more correct in its scenery, than 
 perhaps the poet himself was aware. The 
 publication was attended with no success ; 
 but the first misfortune a poet meets will 
 rarely deter him from incurring more. He 
 suddenly quitted the University, and has 
 been censured for not having consulted 
 his friends when he rashly resolved to live 
 by the pen. But he had no friends ! — 
 Alive to the name of Author and Poet, 
 the ardent and simple youth imagined that 
 a nobler field of action opened on him in 
 the metropolis, than was presented by the 
 flat uniformity of a collegiate life. To 
 whatever spot the youthful poet flies, that 
 spot seems Parnassus, as civility seems 
 patronage. He wrote his odes for a present 
 supply : they were purchased by Millar, 
 and form but a slight pamphlet ; yet all 
 the interest of that great bookseller could 
 never introduce thsm into notice. Not 
 even an idle compliment is recorded to 
 have been sent to the poet. When we 
 now consider that among these odes was 
 one of the most popular in the language, 
 with some of the most exquisitely poetical, 
 two reflections will occur ; the difliculty 
 of a young writer, vvithout connections, 
 obtaining the public ear ; and the languor 
 of the poetical connoisseurs, which some- 
 times suffers poems, that have not yet 
 grown up to authority, to be buried on 
 the shelf. What the outraged feelings of 
 the poet were, appeared when some time 
 afterwards he became rich enough to ex- 
 press them. Having obtained some for- 
 tune by the death of his uncle, he made 
 good to the publisher the deficiency of the 
 unsold odes, and, in his haughty resent- 
 ment of the public taste, consigned the 
 impression to the flames ! — It cannot be 
 doubted, and the recorded facts will de- 
 monstrate it, that the poetical disappoint- 
 ments of Collins were secretly preying on 
 his spirit, and repressing his firmest ex- 
 ertions. His mind richly stored with 
 literature, and his squI alive to taste, were 
 ever leaning to the impulse of Nature and 
 study — and thus he projected a " History 
 of the Revival of Learning," and a trans- 
 
 lation of" Aristotle's Poetics," to be illus- 
 trated by a large commentary. — But " his 
 great fault," says Johnson, " was his irre- 
 solution ; or the frequent calls of imme- 
 diate necessity broke his schemes, and 
 suffered him to pursue no settled purpose." 
 Collins was, however, not idle, though 
 without application ; for, when reproached 
 with idleness by a friend, he-showed in- 
 stantly several sheets of his version of 
 Aristotle, and many embryos of some 
 lives he had engaged to compose for the 
 Biographia Britannica; he never brought 
 either to perfection ! What then was this 
 irresolution, but the vacillations of a mind 
 broken and confounded ? He had ex- 
 ercised too constantly the highest faculties 
 of fiction, and he had precipitated himself 
 into the dreariness of real life. None but 
 a poet can conceive, for none but a poet 
 can experience, the secret wounds inflicted 
 on a mind made up of romantic fancy and 
 tenderness of emotion, who has staked 
 his happiness on his imagination ; and 
 who feels neglect, as ordinary men might 
 the sensation of being let down into a 
 sepulchre, and being buried alive. The 
 mind of Tasso, a brother in fancy to Col- 
 lins, became disordered by the opposition 
 of the critics, but their perpetual neglect 
 had not injured it less. The elegant Hope 
 of the ancients was represented holding 
 some flowers, the promise of the spring, 
 or some spikes of corn, indicative of ap- 
 proaching harvest — ^but the Hope of Col- 
 lins had scattered its seed, and they 
 remained buried in the earth. — To our 
 poor Bard, the oblivion which covered 
 his works appeared to him eternal, as 
 those works now seem to us immortal. 
 He had created Hope, with deep and en- 
 thusiastic feeling ! 
 
 With eyes so fair— . 
 Whispering promised pleasure. 
 And bade the lovely scenes at distance haa] ; 
 And Hope, enchanted, smil'd, and wav'd her 
 golden hair ! 
 
 What was the true life of Collins, separ- 
 ated from its adventitious circumstances ? 
 It was a life of Want, never chequered by 
 Hope, that was striving to elude its own 
 observation by hurrying into some tem- 
 porary dissipation. But the hours of 
 melancholy and solitude were sure to 
 return ; these were marked on the dial of 
 his life, and, when they struck,, the ga^ 
 and lively Collins, like one of his own 
 enchanted beings, as surely relapsed into 
 his natural shape. To the perpetual re- 
 
717 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-JUNE 12. 
 
 718 
 
 collections of his poetical disappoint- 
 ments are we to attribute this unsettled 
 state of his mind, and the perplexity of 
 his studies. To these he was perpetually 
 reverting, as after a lapse of several years 
 he showed, in burning his ill-fated odes. 
 And what was the result of his literary 
 life? It is known that he returned to 
 his native city of Chichester in a state 
 almost of nakedness, destitute, diseased, 
 and wild in despair, to bide himself In 
 the arms of a sister. — The cloud had long 
 been gathering over his convulsed intel- 
 lect ; and the fortune he acquired ou the 
 death of his uncle served only for personal 
 indulgences which rather accelerated his 
 disorder. There were, at times, some 
 awful pauses, in the alienation of his 
 mind — but he had withdrawn it from 
 study. It was in one of these intervals 
 that Thomas Warton told Johnson that 
 when he met Collins travelling, he took 
 up a book the poet carried with him, from 
 curiosity, to see what companion a man 
 of letters had chosen — it was an English 
 Testament. " I have but one book," said 
 Collins, " but that is the best." This cir- 
 cumstance is thus recorded on his tomb. 
 
 " He join'd pure faUh to strong poetic powers. 
 And, in reviving Reason's lucid hours. 
 Sought on one book his troubled mind to r3st, 
 And rightly deem'd the Book of God the best." 
 
 Dr. Warton says — " During his last 
 malady he was a great reader of the Bible, 
 I am favored with tlie following anecdote 
 from the Rev. Mr. Shenton, vicar of St 
 Andrews, at Chichester, by whom Collins 
 was buried. ' Walking in my vicarial 
 garden one Sunday evening, during Col- 
 lins' last illness, I heard a female (the 
 servant I suppose) reading the Bible in 
 his chamber. Mr. Collins had been ac- 
 customed to rave much, and make great 
 moanings ; but while she was reading, or 
 rather attempting to read, he was not only 
 silent but attentive likewise, correcting 
 her mistakes, which indeed were very fre- 
 quent, through the whole of the twenty- 
 seventh chapter of Genesis.' " 
 
 There is another touching feature of 
 CoUins's distracted mind — "At Chichester 
 tradition has preserved some striking and 
 affecting occurrences of his last days; he 
 would haunt the aisles and cloisters of the 
 cathedral, roving days and nights together, 
 loving their 
 
 Sim religious light. 
 
 And, when the choristers ciiauuted their 
 
 anthem, the hstening and bewildered poet, 
 carried out of himself by the solemn 
 strains, and his own too susceptible ima- 
 gination, moaned and shrieked, and awoke 
 a sadness and a terror niiost affecting 
 in so solemn a place; their friend, thei° 
 kinsman, and their poet, was before them, 
 an awful image of human misery and 
 ruined genius ! "* 
 
 The worthy historian of "English 
 Poetry,' 'further relates, that in 1754, 
 Collins was at Oxford, "for change of air 
 and amusement," and staid a month. 
 "I saw him frequently, but he was so 
 weak and low, that he could not bear con- 
 versation. Once he walked from his lod- 
 gings opposite Christ-church, to Trinity- 
 college, but supported by his servant. 
 The same year, in September, I and my 
 brother visited him at Chichester, where 
 he lived in the cathedr?! cloisters, with his 
 sister. The first day he was in high 
 spirits at intervals, but exerted himself so 
 much that he could not see us the second. 
 Here he showed us an Ode to Mr. John 
 Home, on his leaving England for Scot- 
 land, in the octave stanza, very long and 
 beginning — 
 
 Home, thou return'st from Thames ! 
 
 I remember there was a beautiful descrip- 
 tion of the spectre of a man drowned in 
 the night, or in the language of the old 
 Scotch superstitions— seized by the angry 
 spirit of the waters, appearing to his wife 
 with pale blue cheeks, &c. Mr. Home 
 has no copy of it. He also showed us 
 another ode, of two or three four-lined 
 stanzas, called the Bell of Arragon ; on a 
 tradition that, anciently, just before a king 
 of Spain died, the great bell of the cathe- 
 dral of Sarragossa, in Arragon, tolled 
 soontaneously. It began thus : — 
 
 The bell of Arragon, they say. 
 Spontaneous speaks the fatal day, &c. 
 
 Soon afterwards were these lines :— r 
 
 Whatever dark aerial power, 
 Commission'd, haunts the gloomy tower^ 
 
 The last stanza consisted of a moral tran 
 sition to his own death and knell, which 
 he called ' some simpler bell.' " 
 
 Dr. Drake observes, " Of this exquisite 
 poet, who, in his genius, and iu his per- 
 
 * Calamities of Authors. 
 
719 
 
 HE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 12. 
 
 720 
 
 sonal fate bears a strong resemblance to the 
 celebrated Tasso, it is greatly to be re- 
 gretted that the reliques are so few. I 
 ttmsl particularly lament the loss of the 
 ode, entitled ' The Bell of Arragon,' which 
 from the four lines preserved in this paper 
 seems to have been written with the poet's 
 wonted power of imagination, and to have 
 closed in a manner strikingly moral and 
 pathetic. I rather wonder that Mr. War- 
 ton, who partook much of the romantic 
 bias of Collins, was not induced to fill 
 up the impressive outline." * 
 
 The imagined resemblance of Collins 
 to Tasso suggests insertion, in this place, of 
 a poem by Mrs. Hemans. — There is an 
 Italian saying, that " Tasso with his 
 sword and pen was superior to all men." 
 
 Tasso and his Sister. 
 
 She eat where, on each wind that sighed. 
 
 The citron's breath went by. 
 While the deep gold of eventide 
 
 Bnrn'd in th' Italian sky. 
 Her bower was one where day-light's close 
 
 Full oft sweet laughter found. 
 As thence the voice of childhood rose 
 
 To the high vineyards round. 
 
 But still and thoughtful at her l^nee. 
 
 Her children stood that hour — 
 TKeir bursts of song, and dancing glee, 
 Hush'd as by words of power. 
 With bright, fix'd, wondering eye, that gaz'd 
 
 XTp to their mother's face. 
 With brows through parting ringlets rais'd. 
 
 They stood in silent grace. 
 
 While she — yet something o'er her look 
 
 Of mournfulness was spread — 
 Forth from a poet's magic book 
 
 The glorious numbers read : 
 The proud undying lay which pour'd 
 
 Its light on evil years ; 
 His of the gifted pen and sword. 
 
 The triumph — and the tears. 
 
 She r^ad of fair Erminia's flight, 
 
 Which Venice once might hear 
 Sung on her glittering seas, at night. 
 
 By' many a gondolier ; 
 Of Him she read, who broke the charm 
 
 That wrapt the myrtle grove. 
 Of Godfrey's deeds — of Tancred's arm. 
 
 That slew his Paynim-love. 
 
 Young cheeks around that bright page glow'd ; 
 
 Young holy hearts were stirr'd. 
 And the meek tears of woman flow'd 
 
 Fast o'er each burning word ; 
 
 *Dr. Drake's Gleaner. 
 
 And sounds of breeze, and fount, and leaf, 
 Came sweet each pause between. 
 
 When a strange voice of sudden grief 
 Burst on the gentle scene 
 
 The mother tum'd — a way-worn man 
 
 In pilgrim-garb stood nigh. 
 Of stately mien, yet wild and wan. 
 
 Of proud, yet restless eye : 
 But drops, that would not stay for pride. 
 
 From that dark eye gush'd free,' 
 As, pressing his pale brow, he cried — 
 
 " Forgotten ev'n by thee 1" 
 
 " Am I so chang'd ?^and yet we two 
 
 Oft hand in hand have play'a ; 
 This brow hath been all bath'd in dew. 
 
 From wreaths which thou hast made ! 
 We have knelt down, and said one prayer. 
 
 And sang one vesper strain ; 
 My thoughts are dim with clouds of care — 
 
 Tell me those words again ? 
 
 " Life hath been heavy on my head ; 
 
 I come, a stricken deer. 
 Bearing the heart, 'midst crowds that bled. 
 
 To bleed in stillness here !" 
 She gaz'd — till thoughts that long had slept 
 
 Shook all her thrillinj frame, — 
 She fell upon his neck, and wept. 
 
 And breath'd her Brother's name. 
 Her Brother's name ! — and who was He, 
 
 The weary one, th' unknown. 
 That came, the bitter world to flee, 
 
 A stranger to his own ? 
 He was the Bard of gifts divine 
 
 To sway the hearts of men : 
 He of the song for Salem's shrine. 
 
 He uf the sword and pen. 
 
 The misery which results from indulg- 
 ing the pleasures of imagination in youth 
 is well expressed in these cautionary lines . 
 
 Of Fancy's too prevailing power, beware ! 
 Oft has she bright on Life's 'air morning 
 
 shone j 
 Oft easted Hope on Reason's sovereign 
 throne. 
 Then clos'd the scene, in darkness and despair. 
 Of all her gifts, of all her powers possest. 
 
 Let not her flattery win thy youthful ear. 
 Nor vow long faith to such a various guest, 
 , False at the last, tho' now perchance full 
 dear ; 
 The casual lover with her charms is blest. 
 But woe to them her magic bands that wear ! 
 Langhame. 
 
 h. m. 
 3 45 
 8 15 
 
 June 12. Sun rises 
 
 — sets 
 Larkspur flowers. 
 
 Water hemlock begins to flower in 
 marshy places. 
 
72; 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 12. 
 
 722 
 
 ESCUTCHEON AT CROYDON PALACE. 
 
 The subsequent communication, ac- 
 companied by a drawing of the carving 
 represented in the engraving 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 An escutcheon surmounted by a canopy, 
 on the eastern wall of the old archiepis- 
 copal palace of Croydon, fell down, toge- 
 ther with the wall, on the 8th of June 
 last year. In a few days afterwards, the 
 escutcheon having been removed with the 
 rubbish on which it lay, I took the ac- 
 companying sketch of it. The wall is 
 reinstated without this ancient ornament. 
 I forward the drawing in the hope that 
 it may find a place in the Year Sooh. 
 
 The arms are party per pale — Dexter 
 division — az : a cross patence, or : be- 
 tween five martlets, or.- — Sinister quarterly, 
 first ana fourth, az : three fleurs-de-lis, 
 or ; for France. Second and third, gules : 
 three lions passant gu'ardant, or; for 
 England. The dexter division bare the 
 .irms of Edward the ConTessor. 
 
 G. S. S. 
 
 Croydon, April 1831. 
 
 Croydon Palace. 
 
 Dr. Ducarel says, the oldest part of 
 Croydon Palace, which is entirely of brick, 
 was one of the earliest brick buildings in 
 the reign of Henry VI. Here, in 1573, 
 archbishop Parker entertained Elizabeth 
 and her court for seven days. Under the 
 commonwealth the palace was let to the 
 Earl of NottingbaiD at £40 a year ; and 
 afterwards to Sir William Brereton, co- 
 lonel general of the Cheshire forces, who 
 resided in it, and turned the chapel into 
 a kitchen. On the restoration archbishop 
 Juxon repaired and fitted it up ; and many 
 of his successors repaired it at a great ex- 
 pense ; most of them occasionally re- 
 sided here except archbishops Seeker and 
 Cornwallis. In 1780, after remaining 
 uninhabited for twenty years, it was sold 
 under an act of parliament to Abraham 
 Pitches, Esq., afterwards Sir Abraham 
 Pitches, for £2520, and the proceeds 
 were applied towards the expense of 
 building Westminster Bridge. The cha- 
 pel is now used for the Sunday school ; 
 and, in the week, for the school of iii- 
 
723 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 13. 
 
 724 
 
 dustry. The palace itself is converted 
 into a calico-printing manufactory and. a 
 bleaching ground. In 1412, when James 
 I. king of Scotland was a prisoner in 
 England, he dated a grant of Drumlanrig 
 from Croydon, where he was probably 
 ^ under the care of archbishop Arundel. 
 A vineyard is mentioned to have been 
 here in the time of Edward II. 
 Vineyards. 
 Upon the authority of many ancient 
 writers!, Mr. Pegge affirmed the existence 
 in early times of vineyards in England 
 for the culture of grapes, and that they 
 were introduced by the Romans about 
 Q80. The Hon. Daines Harrington de- 
 nied it, and disputed Mr. Pegge's inter- 
 pretation of some of the passages he had 
 cited. Mr. Gough learnedly replied to 
 Mr. Barrington, and adduced two in- 
 stances from ancient authors who men- 
 tion vineyards and orchards as distinct 
 things.* 
 
 UJune 13. 
 
 June 13, 1823, Mr. Robert Bowman 
 of Irthington, near Carlisle, died, at the 
 age of one hundred and eighteen years. 
 
 Dr. Barnes published some account of 
 this Cumberland patriarch, in the Edin- 
 burgh Philosophical Journal, 1820. He 
 says his birth-day is not known; and, 
 *' as some doubts have been entertained 
 with respect to his age, to put it beyond 
 dispute, I have examined the register of 
 his baptism, in the parish church of 
 Hayton. His name, and place of nativity, 
 as well as the year of baptism, which was 
 1705, are very legible, but, from his name 
 having been placed at the foot of the page, 
 the month and day are worn out." He 
 was born at Bridgewood-foot, a small 
 farm-house, and hamlet, about two miles 
 from Irthington, in the month of October, 
 1705, in the house where his grandfather 
 had resided, and where his father also 
 was born, both of whom were brought 
 up to husbandry. His ancestors were 
 Roman Catholics, and in the early part 
 of his life he professed that religion ; — 
 but, many years ago, he became a member 
 of the church of England, and was a con- 
 stant and orderly attendant upon its 
 worship, until prevented by age and 
 infirmity. From early youth he had been 
 ^a laborious worker, and was at all times 
 healthy and strong, having never taken 
 
 * Manning and Bray's Surrey, 
 
 medicine, nor been visited with any kind 
 of illness, except the measles when a child, 
 and the hooping-eough when above one 
 hundred years of age. During the course 
 of his long life he was only once intoxi- 
 cated, which was at a wedding ; and he 
 never used tea or coffee, his principal 
 food having been bread, potatoes, hasty- 
 pudding, broth, and occasionally a little 
 flesh meat. He scarcely ever lasted ale or 
 spirits, his chief beverage was water ; or 
 milk and water mixed. This abstemious- 
 ness arose partly from a dislike to strong 
 liquors, but more from a saving disposi- 
 tion, being remarkably careful of his 
 money, and strongly attached to the things 
 of this world. For the same reason, as 
 he himself acknowledged, he never used 
 snuff or tobacco. With these views, h;s 
 habits of industry, and disregard of per- 
 sonal fatigue, were extraordinary ; he 
 having often been up for two or three 
 nights in a week, particularly when bring- 
 ing home coals or lime. In his younger 
 days he was rather robust, excellent in 
 b()dily strength, and was considered a 
 master in the art of wrestling — an exercise 
 to which he was particularly attached. 
 He was of a low stature, being not above 
 five feet five inches in height, with a large 
 chest, well-proportioned limbs, and weigh- 
 ing about twelve stone. His vigor never 
 forsook him till far advanced in life; for, 
 in his hundred and eighth year, he walked 
 to and from Carlisle (sixteen miles), 
 without the help of a staff, to see the 
 workmen lay the foundation stone of 
 Eden bridge. In the same year he actu- 
 ally reaped corn, made hay, worked at 
 hedging, and assisted in all the labors ot 
 the field, with, apparently, as much en- 
 ergy as the stoutest of his sons. As 
 might be expected, his education was 
 very limited, but he possessed a consi- 
 derable share of natural sense, with much 
 self-denial, and passed a life of greet 
 regularity and prudence, without troubling 
 himself by much thought or reflection. 
 His memory was very tenacious : he re- 
 membered the rebellion in 1715, when 
 he was ten years of age, and witnessed a 
 number of men running away from the 
 danger. In the second rebellion, in 
 the year 1745, he was employed in 
 cutting trenches round Carlisle,'but fled 
 from his disagreeable situation as soon 
 as an opportunity afforded for escap- 
 ing. He did not marry till he was 
 fifty years of age, and his wife lived with 
 him fifty-two years, dying in 1807, aged 
 
ns 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 14, 15, 16. 
 
 726 
 
 eighty-one. In 1810 one of his brothers 
 died at the age of ninety-nine ; and in 
 1818 a cousin died, aged ninety-five; 
 another cousin, eighty-seven years old, 
 survived him. He left six sons, the 
 youngest fifty years of age, and the eldest 
 sixty-tvfo ; his grand-children were twenty 
 in number; his great grand-children only 
 eleven : he never had any daughters. 
 About the year 1799 he lost all his teeth, 
 but no mark of debility appeared about 
 his person before 1813, when he took to 
 his bed, and never was able to use his 
 limbs afterwards. During the first nine 
 years of his confinement his health and 
 spirits continued good, and he was free 
 from corporeal pain; but for the last 
 twelve months his intellects became rather 
 impaired. On the day before his death 
 he was seized with illness ; the next day 
 he grew weaker, and weaker as the day 
 declined, but experienced no sickness. 
 At about eight in the evening he slept 
 silently away in the arms of death. 
 
 Mr. Bowman resided, during the latter 
 part of his life, with one of his sons, upon 
 his own estate, and died possessed of 
 considerable property — the fruit of un- 
 wearied perseverance and active industry, 
 through a longer portion of time than 
 usually fells to the lot of man. 
 
 To this account the editor of the Wake- 
 field Journal adds, " We understand from 
 a grandson of Mr. Bowman, residing at 
 Wakefield, that he had attained his 
 hundred and eighteenth year and some 
 months." 
 
 h. m. 
 June 13. Sun rises ... 3 45 
 — Sets ... B 15 
 Portugal blue squill flowers. 
 Hairy dandelion flowers. 
 Rough dandelion in blow every where. 
 White urcbis flowers. 
 
 gjun^ 14. 
 
 Pope in plain Pkose. 
 In a life of Pope, written by Ayres, 
 and published by Curll, is the following 
 advertisement : — 
 
 " Daily Post of Friday, Utk of June, 
 1728. 
 " Whereas there has been a scandalous 
 paper cried &bout the streets, under the 
 title of ' A Popp upon Pope,' insinuating 
 that I was whipped in Ham-walks, on 
 Thursday last; — This is to give notice 
 
 that I did not stir out of my house at 
 Twickenham, and that the same is a ma- 
 licious and ill-grounded report. 
 
 Alexander Pope." 
 
 h. ro. 
 June 14. Sun rises ... 3 44 
 
 — sets ... 8 16 
 Viper buglos flowers. 
 
 ilUtt^ 15. 
 
 Frost. 
 
 On the 15th of June, 1791, a remark- 
 able change in the weather took place 
 within a few days. The thermometer, 
 which stood at seventy-five, fell to twenty- 
 five degrees. The hills of Kent and 
 Surrey were covered with hoar frost, and 
 whitened with snow. In many places 
 there was ice of the thickness of a shilling. 
 
 h. m. 
 June 15. Sun rises ... 3 44 
 
 — sets ... 8 16 
 Grass is now long, and nearly ready to 
 
 cut. 
 
 SJune 16. 
 
 This is the anniversary of the death of 
 the great John, duke of Marlborough ; 
 and also of the famous battle of Dettingen, 
 when the British and allied troops, com- 
 manded by king George II. in person, 
 obtained a decisive victory over the french 
 array. 
 
 Tbomas Brown, of Bland's Regiment. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 Sir, — You notice under this day, both 
 in your first volume, and also in your 
 second volume of your Evety-Day Book, 
 the death of the most able, and most suc- 
 cessful chieftatn that our British Islands 
 ever produced, with the exception of one 
 now living, as happening in 1722. Ex- 
 actly twenty-one years afterwards, an 
 English dragoon signalized himself in a 
 way which proved to the world that, from 
 the general to the private soldier, England 
 was as unmatched in the last century as 
 she is in the present. 
 
 On the 16th of June, 1743, was fought 
 the battle of Dettingen. In this battle 
 served a private dragoon, in Bland's 
 regiment, of the name of Thomas Brown; 
 he was about twenty-eight years of age, 
 and had not been one year in the army. 
 The French gen-des-arms, iu a charge. 
 
727 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 17. 
 
 took the standard from the regiment. 
 Brown dashed after the gen-d'arms who 
 bore off the trophy — laid hold of it, and 
 then pistolled the Frenchman; with his 
 sword in its scabbard, his hands grasping 
 both bridle and standard, he put spurs 
 into his horse, ajid, exposed to fire and 
 sword, as when recapturing the standard, 
 made his way through a lane of the 
 enemy. He received eight cuts in the 
 face, head, and neck ; two balls lodged 
 in his back, and three went through his 
 hat. His nose and upper lip were nearly 
 severed from his face — a terrible gash 
 from the top of his forehead, crossed his 
 left eye — he received two other wounds 
 on the forehead, and two on the back of 
 the neck — besides having two fingers of 
 the bridle hand chopped off. His regi- 
 ment welcomed him back into their ranks 
 with three huzzas, such as none but Bri- 
 tons know how to give. In this battle 
 Brown had two horses killed under him. 
 Brown's father was ablacksmith. Thomas 
 was born at Kirkleatham, not far from 
 Scarborough ; he was bound apprentice 
 to a shoemaker at Yarm. He stood five 
 feet eleven inches. George II. offered 
 Brown a commission in the army, but his 
 not being able to write prevented his 
 acceptance of it. The king placed Brown 
 near his person in the life guards. As 
 the balls in his back could not be extract- 
 ed, he was obliged to quit the service. 
 He had a pension of £30 per annum, 
 and died at Yarm, of his wounds, January, 
 1746, aged thirty-one. 
 
 I have an engraving of this hero. The 
 print is 12i inches, by 8. Head and bust. 
 Two compartments are below the portrait; 
 in one he retakes the standard, firing his 
 pistol at the gen-d'arm, who falls back- 
 ward aS his horse ; three Frenchmen are 
 hacking at Brown, and two firing their 
 pistols at him. In the second vignette he 
 is steady in his saddle, galloping back to 
 the British line, — one French Dragoon 
 hacking — one giving point — and one 
 firing his pistol. My print is by L. Bol- 
 lard, very rare, and in fine condition : it 
 was published November 8, 1713, " Price 
 one Shilling." What is it wortu i -"w ? 
 
 You quote some beautiful versfc^ om 
 " Scoh of Amwell." On the ' 2lii of 
 January, 1809, being at that periM. a 
 loyal and a royal volunteer, I composed, 
 in my military ardour, the following 
 
 Parody on Scott's Verses. 
 I love the drum's iDspiring sound. 
 Parading round, and round, and round • 
 
 To daring youths it pleasure yields. 
 
 Who leave gay cities, quiet fields, 
 
 To win themselves a glorious name. 
 
 Uphold their country, and her fame ; 
 
 And, when their sovereign's voice commands. 
 
 To march, to fight, and fall in foreign lands. 
 
 I love the drum's enlivening sound. 
 
 Parading round, and round, and round ;. 
 
 To me it speaks of safety won. 
 
 Of Home secure, the Foe undone. 
 
 The Widow smiling through her tears. 
 
 The Bride dismissing all her fears. 
 
 The Sire, whilst weeping o'er his warlike son. 
 
 Redeeming Trophies he in Battle won. 
 
 J. M. or M. H. 
 April, 1831. 
 
 War. 
 " Why may I not go and cut the throats 
 of those who would cut our throats if they 
 could ?" — Do you then consider it as a 
 disgrace that they should be wickeder 
 than you ? Why do you not go and rob 
 thieves, who would rob you if they could 1 
 Why do you not revile them that revile 
 you ? Why do you not hate them that 
 hate you ? -Erasmus. 
 
 The amiable vice 
 
 Hid in magnificence, and drown'd in state. 
 Loses the fiend ; receives the sounding name 
 Of Glorious War ; and through th' admiring 
 
 throng, 
 Uncurs'd the ornamented murderers move. 
 Fawcett. 
 
 h. m, 
 
 June 16. Sun rises . . . 3 44 - 
 
 — sets . . . . 8 16 
 Canterbury bells. Campanula medium^ 
 flowers. This species is called Gants de 
 notre Dame, or our lady's gloves. 
 
 The Midsummer beetle or fernchafer 
 begins to appear. 
 
 gjune 17. 
 
 A T011T01SE-6HELL Tom Cat. 
 
 Among the covetors and collectors of 
 specimens of feline curiosities, this was, 
 and perhaps is, deemed an animal of great 
 consequence. Under this date, less than 
 five years ago, we find one obligingly 
 proffered for sale, by public advertise- 
 ment. — 
 
 " A Handsome Tortoiseshell Tom 
 Cat to be disposep of, on reasonable 
 terms. Apply atMr. White's, 5, Swinton- 
 place, Bagnigge-wells-road." The Times, 
 '7th of July, 1826. 
 
 A male cat of the tortoiseshell color is 
 esteemed a rarity, and was formerly worth 
 
 considerable sum. 
 
729 
 
 THE YEAR HOOK.— JUNE 18, 19, 20. 
 
 730 
 
 A whimsical letter to the Secretary of the 
 Horticultural Society in the " Comic An- 
 nual by Thomas Hood, Esq., 1830," may 
 enable speculators to determine whether 
 the value of " the article" is increased or 
 not, by this singular information : — 
 
 " Sir — ^I partickly wish the Satiety to 
 be called to consider the Case what fol- 
 lows, as I think mite bg maid Transax- 
 tionable in the next Reports : — 
 
 " My Wif had a Tomb Cat that dyd. 
 Being a torture Shell and a Grate faverit, 
 we had Him berried in the Guardian, ind 
 for the sake of inrichment of the Mould I 
 had the carks deposited under the roots 
 of a Gosberry Bush. The Frute being 
 up till then of the smooth kind. But the 
 next Seson's Frute after the Cat was 
 berried, the Gozberris was all hairy — and 
 more Remarkable the Catpilers of the 
 same bush was All of the same hairy 
 Discription. 
 
 I am, Sir, your humble servant, 
 
 Thomas Fkost." 
 
 h. m. 
 June 17. Sun rises . . ." 3 44 
 — sets ... 8 16 
 Field mallow begins to flower and is 
 common in July. 
 
 Field bindweed flowers. 
 Yellow fla iris common. 
 
 ^um 18. 
 
 Charter op London. 
 
 June 18, 1683, Mr. Evelyn says, « I 
 was present, and saw and heard the hum- 
 ble submission and petition of the lord 
 mayor, sheriffs, and aldermen, on behalf 
 of the city of London, on the quo war- 
 ranto against their charter, which they 
 delivered to bis majesty [James II.], in 
 the presence chamber. TVIy lord keeper 
 [North] made a speech to them, exagger- 
 ating the disorderly and riotous behaviour 
 in the late election, and polling for Pa- 
 pillon and Dubois [for sheriffs], after the 
 common hall had been dissolved, with 
 other misdemeanors, libels on the govern- 
 ment, &c., by which they had incurred 
 his majesty's high displeasure ; and that, 
 but for this submission, and under such 
 articles as the king should require their 
 obedience to, he would certainly enter 
 judgment against them. The things re- 
 quired were, that they should neither 
 elect mayor, sheriff, alderman, recorder, 
 common-serjeant, town-clerk, coroner, 
 
 or steward of Southwark, without his 
 majesty's approbation ; and that, if they 
 presented any his majesty did not like, 
 they should proceed in wonted manner 
 to a second choice; if that was disap- 
 proved, his majesty to nominate them ; 
 and, if within five days they thought good 
 to assent to this, all former miscarriages ' 
 should be forgotten — And so," says 
 Evelyn, " they tamely parted with their 
 so ancient privileges, after they had dined 
 and been treated by the king. Divers of 
 the old and most learned lawyers and 
 judges were of opinion that they could 
 not forfeit their charter, but might be 
 personally punished for their misdemean- 
 ors; but the plurality of the younger 
 judges, and rising men, judged it other- 
 wise." 
 
 h. m, 
 June. 18. Sun rises ... 3 43 
 — sets ... 8 17 
 Cand_ytuft, white and purple, in flower; 
 and continues blowing till the end of sum- 
 mer. 
 
 Sweet Williams flower and continue 
 blowing till August. 
 
 Kuite 19. 
 
 On the 19th of June, 1707, died at 
 Hampstead Dr. William Sherlock, dean 
 of St. Pauls and master of the temple. 
 He was born in Southwark about 1641. 
 At the revolution he was greatly embar- 
 rassed how to act. The government gave 
 him time for consideration, and, aided by 
 his wife's intreaties, he complied. A little 
 while after an arch bookseller seeing him 
 handing her along St. Paul's Church-yard, 
 said, " There goes Dr. Sherlock, with his 
 reasons for taking the oaths at his fingers' 
 ends." 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 June 19. Sun rises . . 
 
 . 3 43 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 8 17^ 
 
 Rampion flowers. 
 
 
 Love-in-a-mist flowers. 
 
 
 SJuite 20. 
 
 Curious Advertisements. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 Clerical Duty. 
 June 20, 1716. In the Stamford Mer- 
 cury of this date is the following Adver- 
 tisement : — 
 
 " If any Clercyhan of a good char- 
 
73J 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 21, 22. 
 
 73a 
 
 acter has the misfortune to be destitute 
 of preferment, and will accept of a Curacy 
 of £27 in money yearly, and a House 
 kept, let him with speed send to Mr. 
 Wilson, Bookseller, in Boston, Mr. Boys, 
 Bookseller, in Louth, or the Reverend 
 Mr. Charles Burnett, of Burgh in the 
 Marsh, near Spilsby, in the County of 
 Lincoln, and he may be farther satisfied." 
 
 A Sanguinary Difference. 
 
 In the same Journal of March 28 pre- 
 ceding is announced — 
 
 " Whereas the majority of Apothe- 
 caries in Boston have agreed. to pulldown 
 the price of Bleeding to six-pence, let 
 these certifie that Mr. Richard Clarke, 
 Apothecary, will bleed any body at his 
 shop, gratis." 
 
 J. H. S. 
 
 h. m. 
 Jtme 20. Sun rises ... 3 43 
 — sets ... 8 17 
 Yellow Phlomis flowers. 
 ScarUt lychnis usually begins to flower 
 and continues till the end of July or be- 
 ginning of August. 
 
 Orange lily in full flower. 
 
 SJune 21. 
 
 The Season. 
 
 Among the " Lays of the Minnesingers" 
 is a Norman song of the season written 
 in the 14th or 15th century. 
 
 The lady of my love resides 
 
 Within a garden's bonnd ; 
 There springs the rose, the lily there 
 
 And hollyhock are found. 
 My garden is a beauteous spot, 
 
 Gamish'd with blossoms gay ; 
 There a true lover guards her well. 
 
 By night as well as day. 
 Alas ! no sweeter thing can be> 
 
 Than that sweet nightingale ; 
 Joyous he sings at morning hour, 
 
 Till, tired, his numbers fail. 
 But late 1 saw my lady cull 
 
 The violets on the green : 
 How lovely did she look ! methought. 
 
 What beauty there was seen ! 
 An instant on her form I gazed. 
 
 So delicately white ; 
 Mild as the tender Iamb was she, 
 
 A d as the red rose bright 
 
 June 21, 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Sun rises . 
 
 . . 3 43 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 , . 8 17 
 
 Foxglovetegins to flower under hedges : 
 in gardens there is a white variety. 
 
 Spanish love-in-a-mist flowers. 
 
 Chili strawberry begins to fruit. 
 
 Scarlet strawberries now abound 
 
 Madock cherries begin to ripen. 
 
 Charlock and Kidlock, terrible weeds 
 to the farmer, cover the fields with their 
 pale yellow. 
 
 gjune 22. 
 
 June 22, 1684, Mr.. E.velyn enters in 
 W» Diary — "Last Friday Sir Thomas 
 Armstrong was executed at Tyburn for 
 treason, having been outlawed, and ap- 
 prehended in Holland, on the conspiracy 
 of the duke of Monmouth, lord John Rus- 
 sell, &c., which gave occasion of discourse 
 to people and lawyers, in regard it was 
 on an outlawry that judgment was given 
 and execution." 
 
 Burnet says that Armstrong on being 
 brought up for judgment insisted on his 
 right to a trial, the act giving that right 
 to those that come in within a year, and 
 the year was not expired. Jefferies re- 
 fused it; and, when Armstrong insisted 
 that he asked nothing but the law, Jefferies 
 told him he should have it to the full, and 
 ordered his execution in six days. Soon 
 afterwards went to Windsor and Charles 
 IL took a ring from his finger and gave it 
 to him. 
 
 The Season. 
 
 Bearing in mind that June is a con- 
 tinuation of the poet's May, the ensuing 
 verses of the lady Christine de Pisan are 
 allowable to this month. 
 
 Invitation. 
 
 This month of May hath joys for all. 
 Save me alone ; such fate is mine : 
 
 Him once so near to me I mourn. 
 And sigh, and plaintively repine. 
 
 He was a gentle, noble love. 
 
 Whom thus the adverse fates remove : — 
 O soon return my love ! 
 
 In this fair month when all things bloom. 
 Come to the green mead, come away ! 
 
 Where joyous ply the merry larks 
 And nightingales their.minstrelsy ; 
 
 Thou know'st die spot : — ^with plaintive strain 
 
 Again I sigh, I ciy again, 
 
 O soon return, my love ! 
 
 The Minnesinger of « the Birdmeadow," 
 Vogelweide, addresses these stanzas to his 
 lady-love — 
 
733 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 23. 
 
 784 
 
 The Lady and the May. 
 When from the sod the flow'rets spring. 
 
 And smile to meet the sun's bright ray. 
 When birds their sweetest carols sing 
 In all the morning pride of May, 
 What lovelier than the prospect there 1 
 Can earth boast any thing so fair 1 
 To me it seems an almost heaven, 
 So beauteous to my eyes that vision bright is 
 given. 
 But when a lady, chaste and f sur, 
 
 Noble, and clad in rich attire. 
 Walks through the throng with gracious air, 
 
 A sun that bids the stars retire, — 
 Then, where are all thy boastings. May ? 
 What hast thou beautiful and gay 
 Compared with that supreme delight ? 
 We leave thy loveliest flowers, and watch that 
 lady bright. 
 Wouldst thou believe me — come and place 
 
 Before thee all this pride of May ; 
 Then look but on my lady's face. 
 
 And, which is best and brightest ? say 
 For me, how soon (if choice were mine) 
 This would I take, and that resign ! 
 And say, " Though sweet thy beauties. 
 May! 
 I'd rather forfeit all than lose my lady gay." 
 
 By the same poet are the ensuing gentle 
 verses — 
 
 Lady and Flowers. 
 " Lady," I said, " this gailand wear ! 
 For thou wilt wear it gracefully ; 
 And on thy brow 'twill sit so fair. 
 And thou wilt dance so light and free ; 
 Had I a thousand gems, on thee. 
 Fair one ! their brilliant light should shine : 
 Would'st thou such gift accept from me, — 
 O doubt me not, — it should be thine. 
 " Lady, so beautiful thou art. 
 That I on thee the wreath bestow, 
 Tis the best gift I can impart ; 
 But whiter, rosier flowers, I know. 
 Upon the distant plain they^re springing. 
 Where beauteously ther heads they rear. 
 And birds their sweetest songs are singing : 
 Come ! let us go and pluck them there ! " 
 She took the beauteous wreath I chose. 
 And, like a child at praises glowing. 
 Her cheeks blushed crimson as the rose 
 When by the snow-white lily growing : 
 But all from those bright eyes eclipse 
 Received ; and then, my toil to pay. 
 Kind, precious words fell from her lips : 
 What more than this I shall not say. 
 
 We may conclude with a summer-lay 
 by another Minnesinger, Count Kiaft of 
 Toggenburg, in the thirteenth century. 
 Does any one seek the soul of mirth. 
 Let him hie to the greenwood tree ; 
 And there, beneath the verdant shade. 
 The bloom of the summer see ; 
 
 For there slug the birds right merrily. 
 
 And there will the bounding heart upspring. 
 
 To the lofty clouds, on joyful wing. 
 
 On the hedgerows spring a thousand flowers, 
 
 And he, from whose heart sweet May 
 
 Hath banish'd care, finds many a joy j 
 
 And I, too, would be gay. 
 
 Were the load of pining care away ; 
 
 Were my lady kind, my soul were light, 
 
 Joy crowning joy would raise its flight — 
 
 The flowers, leaves, hills, the vale, and mead. 
 
 And May with all its lighf, 
 
 Compar'd with the roses are pale indeed. 
 
 Which my lady bears ; ,and' bright 
 
 My eyes will shine as they meet my sight 
 
 Those beautiful lips of rosy hue. 
 
 As red as the rose just steep'd in dew. 
 
 June 22. 
 
 h, m. 
 3 43 
 8 17 
 
 Sun rises . 
 — sets 
 Blue sowthistle flowers. 
 Corn-flower, or red-cockle, begins to 
 flower. 
 
 The red poppy abounds in corn-fields. 
 
 Sunt 23. 
 
 On the 23rd of June, 1703, William 
 Fuller, " the famour Imposter, and Cheat 
 Master General of England," received a 
 merited sentence for his enormous villan- 
 ies. He was son of a butcher, at Milton, 
 neat Sittingboume, in Kent, and appren- 
 ticed, in 1686, to John Hartly, a rabbit- 
 wool-cutter, in Shoe-lane, London, from 
 whom he ran away, and professed to be- 
 come a Roman Catholic. — Having a fine 
 person and an ingenuous countenance, 
 Lord Melfort retained him as a page ; but 
 leaving his lordship's service, and marry- 
 ing about the same time, he became 
 greatly distressed, and threw himself upon 
 the generosity of his father-in-law, and 
 his master. Averse to labor, he entered 
 upon a life of high dissipation, which he 
 supported by different frauds. He had 
 servants in livery, assumed the rank of 
 major in the army, then colonel, adopted 
 the title of Sir William Fuller, and finally 
 created himself Lord Fuller. His man- 
 ners and appearance were attractive : he 
 succeeded in borrowing large sums of 
 money, and, when that expedient failed, 
 passed counterfeit bills. After exhausting 
 these sources of revenue he commenced 
 dealer in plots, and had not that trade 
 been over-done in the reign of Charles II., 
 might have been the idol of one party in 
 the state, to the destruction of many on 
 the contrary side. He talked of the dif- 
 
735 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 23. 
 
 736 
 
 ferent potentates of Europe with as much 
 of impudent ease as he did of the peers of 
 his own country, and of his interest at 
 court. In 1696 his assurance arrived to 
 such a height that he sent a letter to the 
 speaker of the House of Commons, in 
 which he pretended that no person had 
 been more actively engaged with Sir John 
 fenwick than himself; but his character 
 was so notoriously bad that the house 
 would not suffer it to be read. Though 
 baffled he was not abashed : and he fol- 
 lowed his base projects, till in 1703 the 
 House of Lords prosecuted him in the 
 Queen's Bench, for publishing twofalse and 
 scandalous libels under the titles of" Ori- 
 ginal Letters of the late King James and 
 others to his greatest Friends in England ;" 
 and " Twenty-six Depositions of Persons 
 of quality and worth." He was convicted, 
 and his sentence marked the enormity of 
 his wickedness. The court ordered that 
 he should appear in the courts of West- 
 minster with a paper affixed to his person, 
 denoting his offence, stand thrice in the 
 pillory, be sent to the house of correction 
 to be whipped, be continued at labor 
 until October 24 following, and remain 
 in custody until he paid a fine of- 1000 
 marks. He went to the pillory with un- 
 blushing effrontery; but he suffered from 
 the indignation of the mob severely, both 
 at Temple Bar and Charing Cross, and 
 hardly escaped with life from the punish- 
 ment they inflicted upon him.* 
 
 The Season. 
 In a volume containing " The Weaver's 
 Boy, a Tale ; and other. Poems : by Chaun- 
 cy Hare Townshend," there are the fol- 
 lowing verses — their title had been previ- 
 ously used to a composition by Schiller^ 
 
 The Vernal Extasy. 
 I 
 Come away ! Come away ! 
 Flow'rs are fresh, and fields are gay ! 
 fipring her early charms' discovers ; 
 
 Now the yellow butterfly. 
 Herself a flying primrose, hovers 
 
 O'er the primrose restlessly. 
 I will show fchee where to choose 
 Violets of unnumbered hues 
 (Glittering fresh with vernal rain), 
 From the blue of deepest stain. 
 To those that spells of frolic spite 
 Have bleached into unsullied white. 
 I will show thee where to cull 
 Wild hyacinths, as beautiful 
 As he who gave them their sweet name 
 
 * Noble. 
 
 With a dearly-purchas'd fame. 
 The youth Apoll« lov'd and slew 
 (AH, I ween, his favors rue). 
 I will lead thee, where the star 
 Of copses glitters from afar. 
 The virgin-leaf'd anemone ; 
 Or we to greener banks will floe. 
 Where the slender haicbell pale 
 Stoops bowing to the gusty gale. 
 
 II 
 Come away ! Come away. I 
 Morning dofis her wimple gray ! 
 And her bashful face discloses. 
 
 Freshly hath'd in rainbow dews. 
 Blushing, like the viigin roses. 
 
 That unite the rival hues. 
 We will climb the hill's steep brow. 
 And o'ergaze the woods below. 
 Where the tops of various trees 
 Sink, fore-shorten'd by degrees. 
 And o'er the wintry boughs is seen 
 Spring's first, light powdering of green. 
 Or, in secret dell, we'll view 
 The budding hawthorn's tender hue. 
 Contrasted with the relics sere 
 Of the sad-departed year. 
 I mark'd one in the parky glade 
 'Neath a broad oak's lofty shade, 
 Keating high its graceful head. 
 With tassell'd woodbine garlanded : 
 It almost seem'd a living thing. 
 Come forth to greet the breathing Spring 
 
 Haste thee then, for fiery June 
 Will tarnish all this freshness soon. 
 III. 
 
 Come away ! Come away ! 
 
 Calmly dies the golden day. 
 
 To the dell, and shady fountain. 
 Though the cheering sun be set. 
 
 Fringing yonder western mountain. 
 Upward glance his glories yet. 
 
 Palely clear. Night's earliest star 
 
 Rises o'er the woods afar. 
 
 Growing momently more bright 
 
 With the slow decay of light. 
 
 Ennobling, like a matchless gem. 
 
 Meek Twilight's dusky diadem. 
 
 Now a soften'd darkness spreads 
 
 About the trees' umbrageous heads. . 
 
 The bat, on free and frolic wing, 
 
 Is with Zephyr gamboling. 
 
 The blackbird's rich delicious note 
 
 From the tangled copse doth float ; 
 
 On the poplar, as he sings. 
 
 The throstle claps his gladsome wings. 
 
 Through joyous Nature's wide domain. 
 
 Lake, river, forest, mountain, plain. 
 
 Fragrance, love, and harmony 
 
 Kindle the vernal extasy. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 June 23. Sun rises ... 3 43 
 — sets . . . 8 17 
 
 Black briony, or our lady's seal, flowers 
 
 Monkshood, and several sorts of. w^fs- 
 bane, in full flower. '''4ji, 
 
737 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 23. 
 
 '738 
 
 ANCIENT YEW TREE, WINDLESHAK 5URREY. 
 
 They told me they would bind me here. 
 
 Unto the body of a dismal yew. 
 
 Shakspeare, 
 
 , Mr. W. A. Delamotte, jun., took a 
 drawing of this tree in the present year 
 (1831), and obligingly communicated it 
 for the present engraving. 
 
 It is alleged that the tree was planted in 
 the time of William the Conqueror, and has 
 existed while three churches successively 
 raised their walls beside it. Windlesham 
 church is about a mile and a half from Bag- 
 shot. It is dedicated to St. Johti the Baptist, 
 and a i-ecord in it slates that the breaking 
 off a branch firom the old yew subjected 
 the trespasser to a whipping at the cart's 
 
 Vol. I.— 24. 
 
 tail, or pillory and fine. The trunk of 
 the tree, as it now appears, is twenty-one 
 feet high, and, at a yard from the ground, 
 measures twelve feet in circumference. 
 The Rev. Thomas Snell, who has been 
 rector from the year 1807, placed a strong 
 Jsh prop to support its venerable re- 
 mains. 
 
 Bagshot, formerly called Bacsiet, is a 
 hamlet to the parish of Windlesham, and 
 is well known for good posting houses 
 and inns. The manor of Windlesham 
 was given by Edward the Confessor to 
 the church of Westminster, and Henry 
 VIII. granted it to St. John's College, 
 Cambridge, which still holds the lordship 
 with a court-leet and court-baron. 
 2 B 
 
"39 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 24 
 
 r40 
 
 Bagshot. 
 
 The earliest mention of the manor 
 of Bagshot is, that, in the reign of Henry 
 II., one Balph held it, in fee farm, 
 as of the king's demesne. Since then 
 it had distinguished possessors. Edward 
 III. gave it to his uncle Edmund of 
 Woodstock, Earl of Kent, who was be- 
 headed by the intrigues of Mortimer, and 
 whose son Edmund, by restoration of 
 blood, obtained restitution of his father's 
 estates. Edmund was succeeded by his 
 brother John, whose heir was his sister 
 Joan, called the " Fair Maid of Kent," 
 who married Edward the Black Prince. 
 The manor of Bagshot returned to the 
 crown, and, ii November 1621, James I. 
 granted it, with other possessions, to Sir 
 Edward Zouch, by the following service, 
 that Sir Edward on the feast of St. James' 
 then next, and every heir male of Sir 
 Edward on that feast, next after they 
 succeeded to the estate, should carry up 
 the first dish to the- king's table at dinner, 
 and pay £100 of gold coined at the royal 
 mint, in lieu of wards and services. By fail- 
 ure of issue male, Bagshot reverted, and 
 Chafles II. granted it tor 1000 years, in 
 trust, for the Duchess of Cleveland and 
 her children by the king. It was after- 
 wards sold, and now belongs to the Earl 
 of Onslow, 
 
 Readers of the Every-Day Book may 
 remember, in an account of " Canonbury 
 Tower," incidental mention of the beau- 
 tiful marble bust of Mrs. Thomas Gent by 
 Betnes. That lady, distinguished by sci- 
 entific knowledge and literary ability, is 
 since dead. In the same volume are 
 lines " To Mary," by Mr. Gent, who has 
 published a new edition of his " Poems," 
 with many pathetic and lively additions } 
 among the latter is — 
 
 The Runaway. 
 
 Ab ! who is he by Cynthia's gle^iti 
 Disceni'd, the statue of distress ; 
 
 Weeping beside the wiUow'd stream. 
 That leaves the woodland wilderness 1 
 
 Why talks he to the idle air ? 
 
 Why, listless, at his length reclin'd. 
 Heaves he the groan of deep despair. 
 
 Responsive of the iiiidmghjt wind ? 
 
 Speak, gentle sliepherd ! tell me why ? 
 
 Sir ! he has lost his wife, they say ; 
 Of what disorder did she die ? 
 
 IiOrd^ Sir, of none^she ran away. 
 
 ^unt 24. 
 
 Midsummer Dav. 
 
 For the various usages upon this great 
 festival see the Emery-Day Book. 
 
 Battle of Bahnockburst. 
 
 To this fatal battle, which was fought 
 on the 24th of June, 1314, recurrence 
 may perhaps be allowed, for the purpose 
 of giving by far the most accurate and 
 circumstantial account of the conflict. 
 It plunged, for a time, almost every 
 rank of society in England in terror and 
 distress.* 
 
 Edward II., persisting in his father's 
 claim to Scotland, resolved by one effort 
 to reduce that nation, and assembled an 
 army of above a hundred thousand men. 
 Robert Bruce, grandson of the competitor 
 with Baliol, raised an army of thirty tho\i.' 
 sand men against Edward, and took his 
 station in the neighbourhood of Stirling, 
 behind the river Bannockburn. The 
 English army came up and encamped 
 near Torwood. The defeat of a detach- 
 ment of eight hundred cavalry, despatched 
 by lord Clifford to the relief of Stirling, 
 inspired the Scots army with courage for 
 the general engagement. At length, on 
 Monday, June 24th, 1314, appeared the 
 dawn of that important day which was 
 to decide whether Scotland was to be 
 independent or subjugated. Early all 
 was in motion in both armies. Religious 
 sentiments mingled with the military 
 ardor of the Scots. A solemn mass, in 
 the manner of those times, was said by 
 Maurice, abbot of Inchchanfry, who ad- 
 ministered the sacrament to the king and 
 the great officers about him, upon a 
 hill near the! camp, probably Cockshot- 
 hill, while inferior priests did the same 
 to the rest of the army. Then, after a 
 sober repast, they formed in order of bat- 
 tle, in a tract of ground now called Nether 
 Touchadam> which lies along the declivity 
 of a gently rising hill, about a mile due 
 south from the castle of Stirling. This 
 situation was chosen for its advantages. 
 Upon the right they had A range of steep 
 rocks, now called Gillie's-hill, in which 
 the hill abruptly terminates^ In their 
 front were the steep banks of the rivulet 
 of Bannockburn. Upon the left lay a 
 
 • Related in Dr. Drake's Mornings in 
 Spring, from Nimmo's History of Stirlingshire/ 
 1777, 8vo. 
 
741 
 
 TIIR YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 24. 
 
 742 
 
 morass, now called Milton Bog, from its 
 virinity to a small village of that name. 
 Alucli of tills bog is still unilrniiied, and 
 a part of it is at present a mill-dam. As 
 it was then the middle of summer, it was 
 almost dry; but, to prevent attack from 
 that quarter, Robert resorted to stratagem. 
 IJe had some time before ordered many 
 ditches and pits to be digged in the mo- 
 rass, and in the fields upon the left, and 
 these to be covered over again with green 
 turf, supported by stakes driven into the 
 bottom of them, so that the ground had 
 still the appearance of being firm. He 
 also caused calthrops, or sharp-pointed 
 irons, t(f be scattered through the morass, 
 some of which have been found there, in 
 the memory of people yet alive. By 
 means of the natural strength of the posi- 
 tion, and these devices, his army stood 
 within an inlrenchment, fortified by in- 
 visible pits and ditches, answering to the 
 concealed batteries of modem times. 
 
 The Scottish force was drawn up in 
 three divisions. Their front extended 
 nearly a mile in length along the brink of 
 the river. The right, which was upon 
 the highest grounds, was commanded by 
 Edward Bruce, brother to the king ; the 
 left was posted on the low grounds^ near 
 the morass, under the direction of Ran- 
 dolph ; the king himself took the charge 
 of the centre. A fourth division was 
 commanded by Walter, lord high steward, 
 and James Douglas, both of whom had 
 that morning received knighthood from 
 the liing. While in this posture, waiting 
 for the English, the trumpets, clarions, and 
 horns, continued to blow with so hideous 
 a noise as made the neighbouring rocks 
 and woods to echo. 
 
 The English army was fast approach- 
 ing, in three great divisions, led on by the 
 monarch in person, and the earls of Here- 
 ford and Glocester. The centre was 
 formed of infantry, and the wings of 
 cavalry, many of whom were armed cap- 
 a-pee. Squadrons of archers were upon 
 "the wings, and at certain distances along 
 the front. The king was attended by 
 two knights, sir Giles de Argentine, and 
 sir Aymer de Vallance, who rode " at his 
 bridle," one upon each side of him. When 
 Edward beheld the order in which the 
 Scots were drawn up, and their deter- 
 mined resolution to give battle to bis ' 
 formidable host, he expressed surprise 
 to those about him. Sir Ingram Umfra- 
 ^ille suggested a plan which was likely 
 to eilsure a cheap and bloodless victori^. 
 
 He counselled the king to make a femt of 
 retreating with the whole army, behind" 
 the tents ; which would tempt the Scots 
 to break their ranks, in order to plunder 
 the camp, when the English might sud- 
 denly fiice about and fall upon them. 
 This advice was rejected ; Edward deem- 
 ed that there was no need of stratagem 
 in order to defeat a force so inferior. 
 
 When the two armies were upon the 
 point of eiigaging, the al)bot of Inchchan- 
 fry, having posted himself, with a crucifix 
 in his hand, before the Scots, the ranks 
 "dropped upon their knees in devotion. 
 The English concluded that by kneeling, 
 when they should have been ready to 
 fight, they meant to surrender at discretion, 
 and begged their lives. The Scots rose 
 again, and resuming their arms with steady 
 countenances, the English began the action 
 by a vigorous charge upon the left wing 
 of the Scots, under Randolph, near the 
 spot where the bridge is now thrown over 
 tlw river, at the small village of Chartres- 
 hall, which was the only place where the 
 river could be crossed in any sort of 
 order. A large body of cavalry advanced 
 to attack in front. Meanwhile another 
 compassed about to fall upon the flank 
 and rear, and fell into the snare prepared 
 for them. Many of their horses were 
 disabled by sharp irons rushing into their 
 feet ; others tumbled into concealed pits, 
 and could not disentangle themselves. 
 In this situation Iiand(jlph vigorously 
 charged upon them. 
 
 While this was passing upon the left 
 wing of the Scottish army, the battle was 
 spreading and raging along the front; It 
 was commenced by the impetuous courage 
 of an Englishman. The Scottish king 
 was mounted upon a little palfry, carryi 
 ing a battle-ax in hiS hand, and upon his 
 helmet he wore a purple hat in form of a 
 crown. This dress, with his activity, as 
 he rode in front of the lines, observing 
 their order, and cheering the men, ren- 
 dered him very conspicirous. Henry 
 Bohun, an English knight, cousin to the 
 earl of Hereford, and ranked amongst the 
 bravest in Edward's army, galloped furi- 
 ously up to engage with RoLert in single 
 combat, and, by so eminent an act of 
 chivalry, end the contest. Bohun missed 
 his first blow, and Robert immediately 
 struck him dead with his battle-ax, which 
 broke in the handle, from the violence of 
 the stroke. This bold attack upon their 
 king, in the face of the wh61e array, 
 roused the Scotir to instant onset, and 
 2B2 
 
743 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 24. 
 
 744 
 
 they rushed furiously upon their foes 
 The ardor of one of their divisions car- 
 ried it too far, and it was sorely galled by 
 a large body of English archers, who 
 charged it in flank ; these were soon dis^' 
 persed by Edward Bruce, who came 
 behind them with a party of spearmen ; 
 or, according to other accounts, by sir 
 Robert Keith, whom the king despatched 
 to its relief, with a company of five hun- 
 dred horse. Edward Bruce, however, 
 soon needed similar relief himself. A 
 strong body of English cavalry charged 
 the right wing, which he commanded, 
 with such fury, that he had been quite 
 overpowered, if Randolph, who appears 
 to have been at that time disengaged, had 
 not marched to his assistance. The battle 
 was now at the hottest, and the fortune 
 of the day uncertain. The English con- 
 tinued to charge with unabated vigor; 
 the Scots received them with inflexible 
 intrepidity, and fought as if victory de- 
 pended upon each man's single arm. A 
 singular scene suddenly altered the face 
 of affairs, and contributed greatly to decide 
 the contest. All the servants and attend- 
 ants of the Scottish army, amounting, it 
 is said, to above fifteen thousand, had 
 been ordered, before the battle, to retire 
 with the baggage behind Gillies-hill. 
 During the engagement they arranged 
 themselves in a martial form, some on 
 foot, and others mounted upon baggage- 
 horses. Marching to the top of the hill, 
 they there displayed white sheets upon 
 long poles, in the form of banners, and 
 moved towards the field of battle with 
 frightful shouts. The English, taking 
 them for a fresh reinforcement to the 
 Scots, were seized with panic, and gave 
 way in great confusion. Buchanan says 
 that the king of England was the first that 
 fled ; but in this he contradicts all other 
 historians, who affirm that the English 
 monarch was among the last in the field. 
 According to some accounts, he would 
 not be persuaded to retire, till sir Aymer 
 de Vallance,' seeing the day lost, seized 
 his horse's bridle, and forced him off. 
 The king's other knight, sir Giles de 
 Argentine, would not leave the field. 
 Throwing himself at the head of a batta- 
 lion, he animated it to prodigious efforts, 
 but was soon overpowered and slain. Sir 
 Giles was a champion of great renown j 
 he had signalized himself in several bat- 
 tles with the Saracens, and was reckoned 
 the third knight for valor in his day. 
 The Scots pursued and made deadly 
 
 havoc among the English, especially at 
 the passage of the river, where order in 
 retreat could not be kept, because of the 
 irregularity of the ground. Within a 
 short mile from the field of battle is a 
 plot of ground, called the " Bloody 
 Field ;" it is said to take its name from 
 a party of the English having there faced 
 about, and sustained a dreadful slaughter. 
 This tradition coiresponds with a relation 
 in several historians concerning Gilbert 
 de Clare, earl of Glocester, and nephew 
 to Edward II. Seeing the general rout, 
 he made an effort to renew the battle at 
 the head of his military tenants; and, 
 after having done much execiHion with 
 his own hand, was, with most of his 
 party, cut in pieces. With this martial 
 prince perished Robert de Clifford, first 
 lord of the honor of Skipton : they 
 fought side by side. Their heroism had 
 excited the admiration of Bruce; they 
 had been companions in the field, and, 
 that they might not be separated after 
 death, he sent thier bodies to Edward II. 
 at Berwick, to be interred with the honors 
 due unto their valor. 
 
 At the battle of Bannockburn there fell, 
 on the side of the English, one hundred 
 and fifty-four earls, barons, and knights, 
 seven hundred gentlemen, and more than 
 ten thousand common soldiers. A few 
 stanzas, from one of the oldest effu- 
 sions on this subject, will show the 
 fiery and taunting tone of exultation raised 
 by Scottish minstrelsy upon the victoryi 
 Song of the Scottish Maidcnt. 
 Here comes your lordly chivalry 
 
 All charging in a row ; 
 And there your gallant bowmen 
 Let fly their shafts like snow. 
 Look how yon old man clasps his hands. 
 
 And hearken to his cry — 
 " Alas, alas, for Scotland, ^ 
 
 When England's arrows fly !" 
 Yet weep, ye dames of England, 
 
 For twen^ty summers past 
 Ye danced and sang while Scotland w pt— 
 
 Such mirth can never last. 
 And how can I do less than laugh. 
 When England's lords are nigh ', 
 It is the maids of Scotland 
 
 Must learn to wail and sigh ; - 
 For here spurs princely Hereford — 
 
 Hark to his clashing steel I 
 And there's sir Philip Musgrave, 
 
 All gore from helm to heel-; 
 And yonder is stout d' Argentine ; 
 And here comes, with a sweep. 
 The fiery speed, of Gloucester — 
 Say wherefore should I weep 1 
 
745 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 24, 
 
 746 
 
 Weep, all ye English maidens, 
 
 Lo, BanQockbrook's in flood ! 
 Not with its own sweet waters. 
 
 But England^s noblest blood. 
 For see, your arrow shower has ceased 
 
 The thiilling bow-string's mute ; 
 And where rides fiery Glouces'ter t 
 
 All trodden under foot. 
 
 Wail, all ye dames of England, 
 
 Nor more shall Musgrave know 
 The .sound of the shrill trumpet — 
 
 And Argentine is low. 
 Thy chivalry, proud England, 
 
 Have turn'd the rein to fly ; 
 And on them rushes Randolph — 
 
 Hark! Edward Bruce's cry. 
 
 'Mid TOking blood the Do'iglas rides. 
 
 As one rides in a river ; 
 And here the good king Robert comes — 
 
 And Scotland's free for ever. 
 Now weep, ye dames of England, 
 
 And let your sons prolong 
 The Bruce — the Brace of Bannockburn — 
 In many a sorrowing song. 
 
 unmarried resident in Church-street, let 
 their rank in life be what it may, to be 
 given on " Farthing Loaf Day" — and 
 also the sum of two guineas to be paid to 
 a householder in the said street, as remu- 
 neration for providing a supper of bread 
 and cheese and ale, to which every house- 
 holder iu the street should be invited, 
 poor and rich. The householdel's each 
 to take their turn in being host, but with 
 a proviso, that none except the occupiers 
 of front houses should enjoy this dig- 
 nity. The toast directed to be drank 
 after supper is " Peace and good neigh- 
 bourhood." The money required arises 
 from a sum which is lent at interest, an- 
 nually, to any competent inhabitant of 
 this favored street, upon his producing" 
 two good sureties for the repayment at 
 the end of the year. 
 
 H. M. 
 May, 1831. 
 
 Fakthing Loaf Day at Kiddeb min- 
 ster. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 A very curious practice is observed on 
 Midsummer-eve, at Kiddermiiister, aris- 
 ing from the testamentary dispositions of 
 two individuals, once residents there. 
 
 A farthing loaf is given, on Midsum- 
 mer-eve, to every person born in Church- 
 street, Kidderminster, who chooses to 
 claim it, whether they be rich or poor, 
 child or adult. And let not the reader 
 contemn the smallness of the boon. The 
 bequest is of very ancient standing ; and 
 the farthing loaf, at the time of its date, 
 was of jolly proportions, far different to 
 the minims which are prepared expressly 
 for this occasion at the present time. The 
 donor was a benevolent "bid maid, who, 
 no doubt, intended to confer a benefit on 
 the denizens of Church-street, Kidder- 
 minster, and had she lived in these days, 
 and had understood the subtleties of the 
 currency question, would doubtless have 
 bestowed it in a less ludicrous shape. 
 The day is called Farthing Loaf Day, and 
 the bakers' shops are amply furnished 
 with these diminutives, as it is the prac- 
 tice of the inhabitante throughout the 
 town to purchase them. 
 
 Superadded to this bequest is another. 
 About fifty years ago an old bachelor, 
 emulous of good works, left a sum for 
 the purchase of a twopenny cake for every 
 
 Sheep Shearikg. 
 
 Clare preserves some of the old cus- 
 toms and present usages at sheep shearing. 
 After the lines quoted beneath the engrav- 
 ing at the beginning of this month, he 
 speaks of the shepherd, with his sheep fresh 
 from the washing, in the clipping-pen. 
 
 There with the scraps of songs, and laugh, 
 
 and tale. 
 He lightens annual toil, while merry ale 
 Goes round, and glads some old man's heart 
 
 to praise 
 The threadbare customs of his early days: 
 How the high bowl was in the middle set 
 At breakfast time, when clippers yearly met, ■ 
 Fill'd full of furmety, where dainty swum 
 The streaking sugar and the spotting plum. 
 The maids could never to the table bring 
 The bowl, without one rising from the ring 
 To lend a band ; who, if 'twere ta'en amiss. 
 Would sell his kindness for a stolen kiss. 
 The large stone-pitcher in its homely trim. 
 And clouded pint-horn with its copper rim. 
 Were there ; from which were drunk, with 
 
 spirits high. 
 Healths of the best the cellar could supply ; 
 While sung the ancient swains, in uncouth- 
 rhymes, 
 Songs that were pictures of the good old times. 
 Thus will the old man ancient ways bewail. 
 Till toiling shears gain ground upon the tale. 
 And break it off — for now the timid sheep. 
 His fleece shorn off, starts with a fearful leap. 
 Shaking his naked skin with wond'ring joys. 
 While others are brought in by sturdy boys. 
 
 Then follows a lively account of ex- 
 isting usages at a sheep-shearing — 
 
747 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 25. 
 
 748 
 
 Though fashion's haughty frown hath 
 thrown aside 
 Half the old forms simplicity supplied, 
 Yet there are some pride's winter deigns to - 
 
 spare. 
 Left like green ivy when the trees are bare. 
 And now, -when shearing of the flocks is done. 
 Some ancient customs, mix'd with harmless fun. 
 Crown the swtiin's merry toils. The timid 
 
 maid. 
 Pleased to be praised, and yet of praise 
 
 afraid. 
 Seeks the best flowers ^ not those of woods 
 
 and fields. 
 But such as every farmer's garden yields — 
 Fine cabbage-roses, painted like her face ; 
 The shining pansy, trimm'd with golden lace ; 
 The tall topp'd larkheels, feather'd thick with 
 
 flowers ; 
 The 'woodbine, climbing o'er the door in 
 
 bowers ; 
 The London tufts, of many a mottled hue ; 
 The pale pink pea, and monkshood darkly 
 
 blue ; 
 The white and purple gilliflowers, that stay 
 Ling'ring, in blossom, summer half away ; 
 The single blood-walls, of a luscious smell. 
 Old fashion'd flowers which housewives love 
 
 so well ; 
 The columbines, stone-blue, or deep night- 
 brown, 
 'I'heir honeycomb-like blossoms hanging down, 
 Each-cottage-garden's fond adopted child. 
 Though heaths still claim them, where they 
 
 yet grow wild ; 
 With marjoram knots, sweet brier, and ribbon- 
 grass. 
 And lavender, the choice of ev'ry lass. 
 And sprigs of lad's-love — all familiar names, 
 Which every garden through the village 
 
 claims. 
 These the maid gathers with a coy delight. 
 And ties them up, in readiness for night j 
 Then gives to ev'ry swain, 'tween love and 
 
 shame. 
 Her " clipping posies" as his yearly claim. 
 He rises, to obtain the custom'd kiss ; — 
 With stifled smiles, half hankering after bliss. 
 She shrinks away, and, blushing, calls it rude \ 
 Yet turns to smile, and hopes to be pursued ;- 
 While one, to whom the hint may be applied. 
 Follows to gain it, and is not denied. 
 The rest the loud laugh raise, to make it 
 
 known, — 
 She blushes silent, and will not disown ! 
 'Thus ale and song, and healths, and merry 
 
 ways. 
 Keep up a shadow still of former days ; 
 But the old beechen bowl, that once supplied 
 The ieast of furmety, is thrown aside ; 
 And the old freedom that was living then. 
 When masters made them merry with their 
 
 men f 
 Whf.n all their coats alike were russet brown. 
 And his rude speech vras vulgar as their own : 
 
 All this is past, and soon will pass away 
 The time-torn remnant of the holiday. 
 
 June 24. Sun rises . . 
 
 — sets 
 St. John's torch flowers. 
 Grass' fully ready for the scythe. 
 
 h. m, 
 3 43 
 8 17 
 
 The Blackbird. 
 
 This is the largest of our song birds, 
 and is called the harbinger of nature, from 
 building its nest, and producing young 
 in the spring, sooner than others. 
 
 The male, when kept in a cage, carols 
 delightfully all the spring and summer- 
 time. Besides his pleasant natural note, 
 he may be taught to whistle, or play a 
 tune. When wild in the fields, he feeds 
 promiscuously upon berries and insects, 
 and, for the most part, flies singly. 
 
 The male is of a darker black than the 
 female. The hen, and young male-birds, 
 are rather brown, or dark russet, than 
 black, and their bellies of an ash-color ; 
 but, after mewing the chicken feathers, 
 the male becomes coal-black. 
 
 The female builds her nest very artifi- 
 cially ; the outside of moss, slender twigs, 
 bents, and fibres of roots, all strongly 
 cemented with clay, the inside lined with 
 small straws, bents, hair, or other soft 
 matter. She lays four or five eggs, seldom 
 more, of a bluish-green color, full of 
 dusky spots ; and she builds near the 
 ground, generally in a hedge, before there 
 are many leaves upon the bushes. 
 
 Young birds of twelve days old, or 
 less, may be raised with little trouble, by 
 taking care to keep them clean, and feed- 
 ing them with sheep's heart, or other lean, 
 unsalted meat, cut very small, and mixed 
 with a little bread. While young, give 
 them their meat moist, and feed them 
 about every two hours. At full growth, 
 they thrive on any sort of fresh meat, 
 mixed with a little bread. When sick, 
 or drooping, a house spider or two will 
 help the bird. A little cochineal in his 
 water is very cheering and good. They 
 love to wash and preen their feathers ; 
 therefore, when fully grown, set water in 
 their cages for that purpose. 
 
 The blackbird is always brought up 
 from the nest; the old ones cannot be 
 tamed.* 
 
 • Albin. 
 
/'49 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK 
 
 Lines written 25th June, 1811, on 
 the death of miss s. t.v black- 
 BIRD. 
 
 [Unpublished. ] 
 
 Many a maid 
 
 A bird halh laid 
 All under the greenwood tree ; 
 
 And many a rhyme 
 
 Hath mark'd the-time 
 Fiom Prior down to me. 
 
 Many a girl. 
 
 As I can ttll. 
 Hath fondled many an ousel ; 
 
 And many's the muse 
 
 That's told the news 
 Death did the girl bamboozle. 
 
 To every lass 
 
 It comes to pass. 
 That nine pets out of ten die — - 
 
 All in the nighty 
 
 As if in spite, ' 
 They give her care the go-tj^. 
 
 The bird was fed. 
 
 And pat to bed. 
 To sleep the live-long night ; 
 . Chirping with glee 
 
 It arose at three. 
 It be> then bioad day-light. 
 
 It wished to eat, 
 
 It call'd for meat, 
 For food the bird did pine : 
 
 Its heart grew big — ■ 
 
 It hopt the twig, 
 Ere breakfast came at nine. 
 
 Upon my word 
 
 The taste of a bird 
 Has nothing to do with the ton ; 
 
 They ne*er sit up late 
 
 To«dirty a plate. 
 But they sleep in the clothes they have on. 
 
 They want no bell 
 
 The hoars to tell, 
 IsTo maiden to help to dress them ; 
 
 At earliest dawn 
 
 They salute the morn, 
 And rather you'd feed than caress them. 
 
 To be teased with a kiss 
 They think much amiss^ 
 
 When a worm would be more grateful : 
 And then to be fed 
 With sour milk apd bread 
 
 Is to every bird as hateful. 
 
 When you've kisses to spare 
 Let men be your care, 
 
 put give birds what nature intended- 
 Good air and day-light. 
 And freedom of flight, 
 
 And they'll hold their condition much mende 
 J. M. of M. H 
 
 ;.— JUNE 26. 
 
 June 25. Sun rises . . 
 — sets . , 
 Rose of Jericho flowers. 
 Corn camomile flowers. 
 
 h. m. 
 . 3 43 
 . 8 17 
 
 Sune 26. 
 
 On the 2eth of June, 1715, William 
 Tunstall, a gentleman who espoused the 
 Stuart interest, received sentence of death 
 for high treason. His residence was in 
 the north of England, where the family 
 had flourished many centuries. He was 
 taken prisoner at Preston, and led through 
 Highgate in triumph, with Messrs. Til- 
 desley, Dalton, Townley, Hodgeson, Hes- 
 keths, Walton, and Leybourne, who were 
 afterwards indicted with him, when they 
 all pleaded not guilty. Mr. Tunstall, o:i 
 being brought to the bar again, on May 30, 
 withdrew his former plea, and pleaded 
 guilty. After sentence was passed upon 
 him he lay in prison, uncertain of his fate, 
 and daily hearing of numbers implicated' 
 in the same cause being led to execution. 
 In April, 1716, he was conveyed from the 
 Marshalsea to the custody of messengers. 
 He obtained a pardon : not from any cir- 
 cu mstances that could weigh with a j ury, but 
 because he sung to his harp some " droll" 
 verses upon the occasion, which moved 
 the minister more than the misery of Tun 
 stall's many associates in the same desperate 
 cause. It is said that eight hundred unfor- 
 tunate persons died by the hands of the 
 executioner. The number may have been 
 exaggerated, but, with all allowances, it 
 leaves a catalogue which exhibits want of 
 just policy and recklessness of life in the 
 government of the day. Most of these 
 unhappy persons suflered for what they 
 judged their duty. Had more mercy been 
 shown in 1716, there would not, probably 
 have been a rebellion in 1 745 * 
 
 Political Advebjsaries 
 Trace 
 
 Survives, for worthy mention, of a pair 
 Who, from the pressure of their several fates^ 
 Meeting as strangers, in a petty town 
 Whose hlue roofs ornament a distant reach 
 Of this far-winding vale, remained as friends 
 True^to their choice ; and gave their bones in 
 
 trust 
 To this loved cemetery, here to lodge. 
 With unescutcheoned privacy interred 
 Far from the family-vault. — A chieftain one 
 
 » Noble 
 
751 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 26. 
 
 752 
 
 By right of birth ; within whose spotless breast 
 Ihe hre of ancient Caledonia bnrned. 
 He, with the foremost whose impatience hailed 
 ibe Stuart, landing to resume, by force 
 Of arms, the crown which bigotry had lost, 
 Aroused his clan ; and, fighting at their head. 
 With his brave sword endeavoured to prevent 
 Culloden's fatal overthrow. — Escaped 
 From that disastrous rout, to foreign shores" 
 He fled ; and, when the lenient hand of time 
 Those troubles had appeased, he sought and 
 
 gained, 
 For his obscured condition, an obscure 
 Retreat, within this noolt of English ground. 
 — The other, born in Britain's southern tract. 
 Had fixed his milder loyalty, and placed 
 His gentler sentiments of love and hate. 
 There, where they placed them who in con- 
 science prized 
 The new succession, as a line of kings 
 Whose oath had virtue to protect the land 
 Against the dire assaults of Pajiacy 
 And arbitrary rule. But launch thy_bark 
 On the distempered flood of public life, 
 And cause for most rar^ triumph will be thine. 
 If, spite of keenest eye and steadiest hand. 
 The stream, that bears thee forward, prove 
 
 not^ soon 
 Or late, a perilous master. He, who oft. 
 Under the battlements and stately trees 
 That round his mansion cast a sober gloom. 
 Had moralized on this, and other tn-.ths 
 Of kindred import, pleased and satisfied. 
 Was forced to vent his wisdom with a sigh 
 Heav'd from the heart in fortune's bitterness. 
 When he had crushed a plentiful estate 
 By ruinous contest to obtain a seat 
 In Britain's senate. Fruitless was the at- 
 tempt : 
 And, while the uproar of that desperate strife 
 Continued yet to vibrate on his ear. 
 The vanquished Whig, beneath a borrowed 
 name ' 
 ^ (For the mere sound and echo of his own 
 Haunted' him with the sensations of disgust' 
 Which he was glad to lose) slunk from the 
 
 world 
 To the deep shade of these untravelled wilds ; 
 In which the Scottish laird had long possessed 
 An undisturbed abode. — Here, then, they met. 
 Two doughty champions ; flaming Jacobite 
 And sullen Hanoverian ! You might think 
 That losses and vexatious, less severe 
 Than those which they had severally sus- 
 tained. 
 Would have taclined each to abate his zeal 
 For his ungrateful cause ; no, — I have heard 
 My reverend father tell that, 'mid the calm 
 Of that small town, encountering thus, ^they 
 
 flUed, 
 Daily, its bowling-green with harmless strife ; 
 I'iagued with uncharitable thoughts the 
 
 church ; 
 /brertr" *^ """"-P'-- 
 
 But in the 
 
 Of these opponents gradually was wrought. 
 With little change of general sentiment^ 
 .Such change towards each other, that their 
 
 days ' • ^ 
 
 By choice was spent in constant fellowship ; 
 And if, at times, they fretted with the yoke. 
 Those very bickerings made them love it more. 
 A favourite boundary to their lengthened 
 walks 
 This church-yard wa . And, whetner they 
 
 had come 
 Treading their patn in sympatoy and linked 
 In social converse, or by some short space 
 Discreetly parted to preserve the peace. 
 One spirit seldom failed to extend its sway 
 Over both minds, when thev awhile had 
 
 marked * i' . ' 
 
 The visible ^uiet of this holy grduna 
 And breathed its soothing air ; — the spirit of 
 
 hope ^:- — , • 
 
 And saintly magnanimity ; that, spurning 
 The field of selfish difference and dispute, 
 And every care with transitory things. 
 Earth, and the kingdoms of the earth, create, 
 Doth, by a rapture of forgetfulness. 
 Preclude for^veness, from the praise debarred,. 
 Which else the Christian virtue might hav« 
 
 claimed, ' 
 
 — There live who yet remember here to have 
 
 seen 
 Their courtly figures, — seated on the stump 
 Of an old yew, their favorite resting-place. 
 But, as the remnant of the long-lived tree 
 Was disappearing by a swift decay. 
 They, with joint caie, determined to erect. 
 Upon its site, a dial, which should stand 
 ^or public use ■, and also might survive 
 As their own private monument ; for this 
 Was the particular spot in which they wished 
 (And heaven was pleased to accomplish the 
 
 desire) 
 That, undivided, their remains should lie. 
 So, where the mouldered tree had stood, was 
 
 raised 
 Yon structure, framing, with the ascent of 
 
 steps 
 That to the decorated pillar lead, 
 A work of art, more sumptuous, as might 
 
 seem, 
 Than suits this place ; yet built in no proud 
 
 scorn 
 Of rustic homeliness ; they only aimed 
 To ensure for it respectful guardianship. 
 Around th« margin of the plate, whereon 
 The shadow falls, to note the stealthy hours. 
 Winds an inscriptive legend — 
 " TliME FlIES ; it is his melancholy task 
 To bring, and bear away, delusive hopes. 
 And re-produce the troubles pe destroys. 
 But, while his blindness thus is occupied. 
 Discerning mortal! do thou serve the will 
 Of time's eternal master, and that peace. 
 Which the world wants, should be for thee 
 confirmed." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
753 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 26. 
 
 754 
 
 OLD WATEEING POT. 
 
 Why this would make a man — 
 
 To use his eyes for garden water-pots ; 
 
 Ay, and lay autumn's dust. 
 
 Shah^eare* 
 I remember to have seen at some old 
 alms-houses, when I was a boy, an aged 
 feeble widow — slowly tottering about the 
 foot or two of ground allotted to her 
 humble eleemosynary dwelling — with one 
 of these old earthern vessels, dribbling 
 the water from it among a few patches of 
 candyturf, ^nd weed-like flowers ; since 
 when I have seen only the usual painted 
 tin watering pots, and the more powerful 
 garden-engines, used in the gardens of the 
 opulent, and in nurserymen's grounds. 
 
 Garden vessels, of the kind first spoken 
 of, were of brown pottery. The top was 
 closed, with rather larger perforations in 
 it, for the water to enter through, for 
 the purpose of filling the body, *lhan 
 at the spout or rose. One of these 
 watering-pots was found in excavating 
 for the bason of St. Katherine's Dock 
 near the Tower. It lay thirty feet below 
 the surface of the earth, and had been 
 embedded there for, probably, two qr 
 three centuries. It is an arcliseological 
 curosity. The preceding is an engraving 
 
 of it from a orawing by a correspondent i 
 the deficiency at the top, near the handle, 
 was occasioned by a fracture. 
 
 Illustrators of the "immortal bard!" 
 Pause, consider, and determine whether 
 this be not a print that " comes in " for 
 your use. 
 
 ,A watering-pot of this sort is now as 
 great a rarity in England, as the old bar- 
 ber's pewter bason, remembrance of which, 
 as the head-piece of Don Quixote, ren- 
 ders -it immortal. I have contrived, by 
 the bye, to secure one of these obsolete 
 basons, penes me, as the memorial of a 
 worthy barber, whom I used to see every 
 morning in my childhood, passing to his 
 last surviving bascn-customar — a venera- 
 ble barrister — who scorning the new French 
 fashion of the shaving-box and brush, 
 stuck inflexibly to the old English hand 
 and "soap-ball, that frothed in the 
 bason."' 
 
 June 
 
 h. m. 
 3 34 
 8 16 
 
 26. Sun rises . 
 — sets . . 
 Bindweeds (lower. 
 Little sunflower begins lo blow on 
 chalky and light soils. 
 
7SS 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 27. 
 
 .756 
 
 gjun^ 27, 
 
 June 27, 1686, Mr. Evelyn says, " The 
 new very young Lord Chief Justice Herbert 
 declared on the bench, that the govern- 
 ment of England was entirely in the king ; 
 that the crown was absolute ; that penal 
 laws were powers lodged in the crown to 
 enable the king to force the execution of 
 the law, but were not laws to bind the 
 king's power ; that he could pardon all 
 offences against the law, and forgive the 
 penalties ; and why could he not dispense 
 with them by which the test was abolished ? 
 Every one," says Evelyn, " was aston- 
 ished." In June 1688, less than two 
 years afterwards, the seven bishops, whom 
 James II. had sent to the tower, by virtue 
 of these doctrines, were ■ tried while he 
 was reviewing his army encamped on 
 Hounslow Heath. James had retired into 
 the general's tent, when he was surprised 
 to hear a great uproar in the camp, with 
 the most extravagant symptoms of tumult- 
 uary joy. He suddenly inquired the 
 cause, and was told, " It was nothing but 
 the rejoicing of the soldiers for the ac- 
 quittal of the bishops." Within another 
 six months he was in lasting exile — ex- 
 cluded from the throne with all his pos- 
 terity — by a solemn act of both houses of 
 parliament. 
 
 Members of Parliament. 
 
 Morley, near Leeds, York-shire, 
 May 2nd, 1831. 
 Mr. Hone, 
 
 The following Letter presents a 
 laughable contrast between members of 
 parliament in Elizabeth's reign and such 
 as tve have had in recent times : — 
 
 " To the Right Worshipful the Mayor 
 and Burgesses of Totness — After my 
 most harty conimendacions, whereas 
 I, at ray brother's request, and fori 
 y our , sakes, have been your burgess for 
 ^he parliament to my no small coste, 
 for myne expence were above twenty 
 marks, over and above the forty shil- 
 lings I received of you ; and foras- 
 much as it is like the parliament will go 
 forward at this time, which causeth me 
 to call to mind the charge I took in hand, 
 which with like charge should be prose- 
 cuted, if otherwise I prevented not the 
 same : These are therefore to require you, 
 either to bestowe the same upon some 
 other, or else to allow me but the bare fee 
 which is two shillings a day ; and, as I 
 
 have began, so will I end (God willing) 
 to your contentation. Truly, at this pre 
 sent season, I have no occasion, as I 
 know of, to travel up to. London ; which 
 considered, 1 think it reason which I de- 
 mand, and hope you will take it very 
 reasonably demanded. Thus, trusting 
 you will return an answer of your deter- 
 mination herein with convenient speed, 
 I most hartily commit you to God. — 
 From Mount Edgcumbe, this 8th of 
 September \5t5.— Yours to command, 
 Richard Edgecomb." 
 
 It appears that the custom of boroughs 
 maintaining tiheir members had not ceased 
 in the early part of the last century. 
 Hall, whose collections were brought 
 down till about 1739, speaking of Hel- 
 stone, says, "this place, and others in 
 Cornwall, are not able to maintain their 
 burgesses in London during the sessions 
 at their own proper costs and charges (as of 
 old was accustomed) in any tolerable post 
 or grandeur; but have found that pro- 
 fitable expedient (as many others) of 
 making country gentlemen free of their 
 town, who bear the burden and heat of 
 the day for them, and, many times, for 
 the honor of their corporations, distress 
 their paternal estates, to exalt the reputa- 
 tion and perpetuate the privileges of a 
 petty society, made up of mechanics, 
 tradesmen, and inferior practitioners of 
 the law." 
 
 In another page of the same volume 
 we read that " Padstow, Lelent, and Ma- 
 ra'zion formerly sent members to parlia- 
 ment, but were excused upon their peti-' 
 tion on the score of poverty." 
 
 At what an early period there were re- 
 turns made of improper persons to sit in 
 parliament in defiance of public opinion, 
 and opposition to the public will, may be 
 seen in Stone, p. 642, under the reign of 
 Henry VI. 
 
 In 1679, May 27th, it appeared by the 
 Report of the Committee of Secresy, that 
 £20,000 per annum were paid by the 
 Commissioners of Excise, quarterly, "for 
 secret service" to members of parliament 
 (See Lfe of Lord Russell, p. 94). Lord 
 Danby extended the system of corrupting 
 members, increasing the sura allowed 
 from 10 to 20,000 (lb. p. 88). So far , 
 had corruption advanced, under his Ca- 
 tholic majesty Charles II. It appears 
 that the first instance of election bribery 
 on record occurred in the 13 of Elizabeth, 
 (Blackstcme's Comm. i. 179). 
 
 In the reign of Henry III. the parlia- 
 
757 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 27. 
 
 758 
 
 ment was called, for its opposition to the 
 king, " parliamentum insanum" — the mad 
 parliament. In Edward III.'s reign the 
 parliament was called the " good parlia- 
 ment." In Richard II.'s reign, to ex- 
 press their dislike of the proceedings of 
 the lords against the sovereign, the people 
 called them the "unmerciful parliament." 
 
 In another reign (which I forget) the 
 parliament was called " indoctum par- 
 liamenhim "^-the illiterate parliament. 
 A Scotch assembly was called the " run- 
 ning parliament." The famous parlia- 
 ment of the seventeenth century was the 
 " long parliament." The next was the 
 " rump parliament." 
 
 Of late I observe the word " infernal " 
 often used in our periodical publications. 
 Whether the word " infernum" may be 
 the word next used in history, time alone 
 can discover. 
 
 Yours respectfully, 
 
 NORRISSON SCATCHEKD. 
 
 BUKGESSES OF PbESTON. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 Sib, — There is a custom observed in 
 my native town, Preston, in Lancashire, 
 which you may perhaps think worth a 
 place in the Year Book. 
 
 Every year, upon the election of a bur- 
 gess, the person so elected is compelled to 
 leap over (or into, as it may happen,) a 
 wide ditch on Preston Marsh, near the 
 river Ribble ; it takes place, I think, in 
 February, and the dirtiest day of the 
 month is purposely selected, when the 
 ditch, in addition to its usual contents, is 
 filled with mud, previous to the unfortu- 
 nate individual alluded to being taken to 
 the widest part, from whence he is to 
 essay the perilous leap. This, I believe, no 
 one was ever able to perform safely. The 
 good people of Preston, who assemble to 
 witness the immersion of the new burgess, 
 go with the further intention of " making 
 a day of it," and few return without having 
 incurred the penalty of the newly elected 
 member of the borough. Any person who 
 stands near to the ditch is certain of get- 
 ting pushed into it, by one who is perhaps 
 indebted to him, before the day is out, for 
 the same favor. I have heard that the 
 custom originated in one of our king's 
 having accidentally fallen, while hunting, 
 into this identical ditch, and that he sub' 
 jected the towns' people to this infliction, 
 as a penalty, for not having kent the roads 
 in better repair. 
 
 There is another custom in Lancashire, 
 which, as I have never seen it in print, 
 may be unknown to you. On Easter 
 Monday, a number of holiday folks as- 
 semble in the streets of several towns, 
 Preston amongst the rest, and seizing upon 
 every person they meet, without respect 
 to age, sex, or condition, throw them a few 
 paces into the air, and then very uncere- 
 moniously commence taking off their 
 shoes, or boots, whichever it may be, and 
 which, if the owners do not choose to 
 redeem them for a few shillings, sometimes 
 less, are taken to the next public house, 
 where they are received, as readily as the 
 current coin of the realm, in exchange for 
 the good cheer the revellers require. In 
 Chester, where, and also in Durham, this 
 custom is likewise prevalent, the people 
 go about it more civilly : instead of being 
 tossed in the air, as in Lancashire, you are 
 swung about in a chair ; in every other 
 respect the custom is equally peremptory. 
 At Durham they are still more staid and 
 civil, and very politely request you to 
 take off your shoes; but there also you 
 must pay the forfeit or resign them.* 
 I am Sir, &c. 
 
 ASNIE MiLNEB. 
 
 April 1631. 
 
 The Season. 
 Now Summer is in flower, and Nature's ham 
 Is never silent round her bounteous bloom ; 
 Insects, as small as dust, have never done 
 With glitt'iing dance, and reeling in the sun ^ 
 And green wood-fly, and blossom-haunttbg 
 
 bee. 
 Are never weary of their melody. 
 Round field and hedge flowers in full g ory 
 
 twine, 
 Large bind-weed bells, wild hop,- and streak'd 
 
 wood-bine. 
 That lift athirst their slender throated flowers. 
 Agape for dew-falls, and for honey showers ;, 
 These o'er each bush in sweet disorder run. 
 And spread their wild hues to the sultry sun. 
 The mottled spider, at eve's leisure, weaves 
 His webs of silken lace on twigs and leaves. 
 Which ev'ry morning meet the poet's eye. 
 Like fairies' dew-wet dresses hung to dry, 
 The wheat swells into ear, and hides belQw 
 The May-month wild flowers and their gaud^ 
 
 show, ^ 
 Leaving, a school's-boy height, in snugger 
 
 rest. 
 The leveret's scat, and lark, and partridge 
 
 nest, Clare. 
 
 * [Particulars of this custom of Lifting at 
 Easter are related in the Everg-Day Book, i. 
 422.] 
 
759 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 28. 
 
 760 
 
 Flowers. 
 Not Iris in lier pride and braverie, 
 Adornes her arch with such varietie ; 
 Nor doth the milk-white way in frostic night, 
 Appeare so fair and beautiful in sight ; 
 As doe these fields and groves, and sweeter 
 
 bowres, 
 EestrewM, and deckt with partie-coloured 
 
 flowres. 
 Along the bubbling brookes, and silver glyde. 
 That at the bottom doth in silence slyde. 
 The waterie flowres, and lillies on the bankes. 
 Like blazing comets, burgeon all in rankes : 
 Under the hawthorn, and the poplar tree. 
 Where sacred Phoebe may delight to be : 
 The primrose, and the purple hyacinth. 
 The daintie violet and wholesome minthe. 
 The double daisie, and the couslipe, queene 
 Of summer flowres, do overpeere the greene : 
 And round about the valley as ye passe. 
 Ye may no see, for peeping flowres, the grasse. 
 G. Peele, 1584. . 
 
 -I saw. 
 
 Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
 Cupid all armed : a certain aim he took. 
 At a fair vestal, throned by the west, 
 And loosed his loveshaft smartly from his 
 
 bow. 
 As it should pierce a hundred thousand 
 
 hearts : 
 But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 
 Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery 
 
 moon. 
 And the imperial votress passed on, 
 In maiden meditation, fancy free. 
 Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell. 
 It fbll upon a little western flower ; 
 Before milk white, now purple with Love 
 
 wound, 
 And maidens call it Love in Idleness. 
 
 Shak^eare. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 June 27. Sun rises ... 3 44 
 — sets ... 8 16 
 
 Sage flowers. 
 
 Nasturtium, or great India cress, ex- 
 hibits its bright orange flowers, and con- 
 tinues blooming till the autumn. 
 
 ^unt 28. 
 
 June 28, 1802, M. Garnerin and Capt. 
 Sowden ascended in a balloon from Rane- 
 lagh Gardens, Chelsea, in the presence of 
 many thousands of spectators, in three- 
 quarters of an hour, and performed an 
 aerial voyage of more than fifty miles. 
 They alighted near Colchester. This was 
 the most memorable ascent in England 
 from the time of Lunard;, 
 
 The Datsy* 
 
 In youth from rock to rock I went. 
 From hill to hill in discontent 
 Of pleasure high and turbulent, , 
 
 Most pleased when most uneasy j 
 But now my own delights I make; — 
 My thirst at every rill can slake. 
 And gladly Nature's lovR partake 
 
 Of thee, sweet daisy. 
 
 When soothed awhile by milder airs, 
 Thee Winter in the garland wears 
 That thinly shades his few grey hairs j 
 
 Spring cannot shun thee ; 
 Whole summer fields are thine by right. 
 And Autumn, melancholy wight ! 
 Both in thy crimson head delight 
 
 When rains are on thee. 
 A nundred times, by rock or bower, 
 Ere thus I h,ave lain couched an hour. 
 Have I derived from thy sweet power 
 
 Some apprehension ; 
 Some steady love ; some brief delight ; 
 Some memory that had taken flight ; 
 Some chime of fancy wrong or right ; 
 
 Or stray invention. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 And as for me, though that I can but lite. 
 On bokis for to rede, I me delite. 
 And to 'hem yeve I faithe and full credence. 
 And in mine herte have 'hem in reverence 
 So hertily, that there is game none 
 That fro' my bokis maketh me to gone. 
 But it be seldome, on the holie dale, 
 Save certainly whan that the month of Male 
 Is comin, and I here the foulis sing. 
 And that the flouris ginnin for to spring. 
 Farewell my boke and my devocion. 
 Now have I than eke this condicion. 
 That above all the flouris in the mede 
 Than love I most these flouris white and rede, 
 Soche that men callin Daisies in our toun ; 
 To them have I so grete affection. 
 As I said erst, whan comin is the Maie, 
 That in my bedde their daw'ith me no dale. 
 That I n'am up, and walking in the mede. 
 To sene this floure ayenst the sunne sprede 
 What it upriseth erly by the morrowe ; 
 That blissful sight softinith all my sorrowe ; 
 So glad am I when that I have presence 
 Of it to doin it all reverence. 
 As she that is of a.11 flouris the floure, 
 FuUfiUed of all vertue and honoure. 
 And ever ilike faire and freshe of hewe> 
 As well in winter as in summer newe : 
 This love I evre, and shall untill I die. — 
 And whan that it is eve, I renne blithe. 
 As sone as ever the sunne gihneth west. 
 To sene this floure how it will go to rest ; 
 For fere of night, so hateth she darltnesse. 
 Her chere is plainly spred in tlie brightncsse 
 ^ Of the sunne, for there it woll unclose : 
 Alas that I ne' had English, rime or prose,- 
 
761 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JU^NE 29. 
 
 ?62 
 
 Suffisaunt to praise this floure aright. — 
 
 To sene this floure so yonge, so freshe of hewe. 
 
 Constrained me with so gredie desire. 
 
 That in my herte T felin yet the fire 
 
 That made me to rise ere it were daie. 
 
 And now this was the first morrowe of Maie, 
 
 With dredful herte and glad devocion 
 
 For to ben at the resurrection 
 
 Of this floure, whan that it should unclose 
 
 Again the suune, that rose as redde as rose ; — 
 
 And doune on knees anon right I me sette. 
 
 And as I could this freshe fiottre 1 grette^ 
 
 Kneling alwaie till it unclosed was 
 
 Upon the small, and soft, and swete grasse^ 
 
 That was with^ouris swete embroudr'd all. 
 
 Of soche sweetnesse, and soche odoure o*er all. 
 
 That for to spekin of gomme, herbe^ or tree. 
 
 Comparison male none imakid be^ 
 
 For it surmounteth plainly all odoures. 
 
 And of rich beautie, the most gay of floures^ 
 
 When Zephyrus and Flora gei)^lly 
 
 Yave to the floures soft and tenderly, 
 
 Ther sot^ breth, and made 'hem for to spredde^ 
 
 As god and goddesse of the flourie mede. 
 
 In which methought I mighte dale by dale 
 
 Bwellin alwaie the joly monthe of Male 
 
 Withouten slepe, withouten mete or drinke j 
 
 Adoune full softily I gan to sinke. 
 
 And leniug on my elbow and my side 
 
 The longe dale I shnpe me for t'abide^ 
 
 For nothing ellis, and I shall not lie. 
 
 But for to lokin upon the Daisie, 
 
 That well by reson men it calle male 
 
 The Baisie, or else the eye of daie. 
 
 The emprise, and the floure of flouris all . 
 
 I- praie to God that fair^ mote she fall. 
 
 And all that lovia flouris for her sake. 
 
 Chaueer. 
 
 h. m, 
 June 28. Sun rises . < . 3 44 
 — sets ... 8 16 
 JElosc campion, or corn-cockle, and the 
 corn-flower blow. They come with the 
 lengthened com before it ripens. 
 
 SJUtW 29. 7 , 
 
 Grenadiers. 
 
 29th June, 1678, Mr. Evelyn enters in 
 his diary — " Now were brought into ser- 
 vice a new sort of soldiers called Grena- 
 diers, who were dextrous in flinging hand 
 grenades, every one having a pouch full ; 
 they had furred caps with eoped crowns 
 like Janizaries, which made them look 
 very fierce j and some had long hoods 
 hanging down behind, as we picture fools ; 
 their clothing being likewise py-bald, 
 yellow, and red." Grenadiers derived 
 theit name from being trained to throw 
 grenades. In battle, after throwing this 
 
 missile firework, upon the word " Fall 
 on," they rushed with hatchets Upon 
 the enemy. They were not confined to 
 the infantry. Besides grenades in pouches, 
 arid axes, they were armed with firelocks, 
 slings, swords, and daggers. Bayonets 
 were first appropriated to the grenadiers 
 and dragoons.* 
 
 To Primroses pilled with Morning 
 Dew. 
 
 " Why do ye weep, sweet babes ' Can tears 
 Speak grief in you. 
 Who were but bom 
 Just as the modest morn 
 Teem'd her refreshing dew ? 
 Alas ! "you have not known that show'r 
 That mars a flow'r ; 
 Nor felt the unkind 
 Breath of tt blasting wind : ' 
 
 Nor are ye worn with years ; 
 
 Or warp'd as we. 
 
 Who think it strange to see 
 
 Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young. 
 
 To speak by tears before ye have a tongue. 
 
 Speak, whimp'ring younglings ; and make 
 known 
 
 The reason why 
 Ye droop and weep. 
 Is it for want of sleep ; 
 Or childish lullaby 1 
 Or that ye have not seen as yet 
 The violet? 
 Or brought a kiss 
 From that sweetheart to this ? 
 No, No ; this sorrow, shown 
 
 By your tears shed. 
 
 Would have this lecture read ; 
 
 ' That things of greatest, so of meanest worth, 
 
 ''Conceiv'd with •grief are, and with tears 
 
 brought forth.' " 
 
 Herrick, 1648. 
 
 The Season. 
 More appropriately a few weeks earlier, 
 yet here, for their feeling and descriptive- 
 ness, may be introduced these beautiful 
 verses— ^■ 
 
 Br Delta. 
 Come hither, come hither, and view the face 
 Of Nature enrobed in her vernal grace — 
 By the hedgerow way side flowers are springing^ 
 On the budding elms the birds are singing^. 
 And up — up — up to the gates of heaven 
 
 * Fosbroke's Eucy. of Antiquities. 
 t The work in which they first appeared 
 would be referred to were it known : the5 
 are derived into the Year Book from an ano- 
 nymous collection, • — ^~ ^ 
 
t63 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 30. 
 
 764 
 
 Mounts the lark, on the wings of her rapture 
 
 driven : 
 The voice of the streamlet is fresh- and loud j 
 On the sky there is not a speck of cloud : 
 Come hither, come hither, and join with me 
 In thn season's delightful jubilee ! 
 
 Haste out of doors — from the pastoral mount 
 The isles of ocean thine eye may count — 
 From coast to coast, and from town to town. 
 You can see the white sails gleaming down, 
 Like monstrous water-birds, which fling 
 The golden light from each snowy wing ; 
 And the chimnied steam-boat tossing high 
 Its volum'd smoke to the waste of sky : 
 While you note, in foam, on the yellow beach, 
 The tiny billows, each chasing each. 
 Then melting like cloudlets in the sky, 
 Or time in the sea of eternity ! 
 
 Why tarry at home ? — the swarms of air 
 Are about — and o'erhead — and every where : 
 The little moth opens its silken wings. 
 And, from right to left, like a blossom flings ; 
 And from side to side like a thistle-seed. 
 Uplifted by winds from September mead : 
 The midge, and the fly, from their long dull 
 
 sleep. 
 Venture again on the light to peep ; 
 Over lake and land, abroad they flee. 
 Filling air with their murmuring ecstacy : 
 The hare leaps up from his brushwood bed. 
 And limps, and turns its timid head ; 
 The partridge whirrs from the glade ; the mole 
 Pops out from the earth of its wintry hole ; 
 And the perking squirrel's small nose you see 
 From the fungous nook of its own beech tree. 
 Come, hasten ye hither — our garden bowers 
 Are green with the promise of budding flowers } 
 The crocus, and spring's first messenger. 
 The fairy snowdrop, are blooming here : 
 The taper-leaved tulip is sprouting up ; 
 The hyacinth speaks of its purple cup : 
 The jonquil boasteth, '' Ere few weeks run. 
 My golden stmlet, I'll show the sun ; " 
 The gilly-flower shoots its stem on higb^ 
 And peeps on heaven with its pinky eye ; 
 Primroses, an iris-hued multittide, 
 By the kissing winds arc wooing and wooed : 
 While the wall-flower threatens with bursting 
 
 bud. 
 To darken its blossoms with winter's blood. 
 
 Come here, come hither, andmark how swell 
 The fruit-buds of the jargonelle. 
 On its yet but leaflet, greening boughs. 
 The apricot open its blossom throws ; 
 The delicate peachitroe's branches run 
 O'er the warm wall, glad to feel the sun ; 
 And the cherry proclaims of cloudless weather. 
 When its fruit and the blackbirds will toy toge- 
 ther. 
 See the gooseberry bushes their riches show. 
 And the currant bush hangs its leaves below ; 
 And the damp-loving rasp saith, " 111 win 
 
 your praise 
 With my grateful coolness on harvest days." 
 
 Come along, come along, and guess with me 
 How fair and how fruitful the year will be ! 
 Look into the pasture grounds o'er the pale, 
 And behold the foal wich its switching tail. 
 About and abroad, in its mirth it flies, ^ 
 With its long black forelocks about its eyes ; 
 Or bends its neck down with a stretch. 
 The daisy's earliest flowers to reach. 
 See, as on by the hawthorn fence we pass, 
 How the sheep are nibbling the tender grass. 
 Or holding their heads to the sunny ray. 
 As if their hearts^ like its smile, were gay ; 
 While the chattering sparrows, in and out. 
 Fly, the shrubs, and the trees, and roofs about ; 
 And sooiy rooks, loudly cawing, roam. 
 With sticks and stra-^s, to their woodland 
 home. 
 Out upon in-door cares — ^rejoice 
 In the thrill of nature's bewitching voice ! 
 The finger of God hath touched the sky. 
 And the clouds, like a vanquished army, fly. 
 Leaving a rich, wide, azure bow, 
 O'erspanning the works of his hand below : — 
 The finger of God hath touched the earth. 
 And it starts from slumber in smiling mirth $ 
 Behold it awake in the bird and bee. 
 In the springing flower and the sprouting tree. 
 And the leaping trout, and the lapsing stream. 
 And the south wind soft^ and the warm sun- 
 beam: — 
 From the sward beneath, and the boughs above. 
 Come the scent of flowers, and the sounds of 
 
 love ; 
 Then haste thee hither, and join thy voice 
 With a world's which shouts, " Rejoice ! Re- 
 joice ! " 
 
 h, m. 
 June 29. Sun rises ... 3 44 
 — sets .... 8 16 
 Musk-fiower blows in gardens. Yellow- 
 rattle, or cockscomb, in flower. It is said 
 to blow when the grass is fit for mowing. 
 
 ititte 30. 
 
 30 of June, 1661, Mr- Pepys enters in 
 his diary that he went this day, " Lord's 
 day, to church; where," he observed, "the 
 trade of briefs is come now up to so con- 
 stant a course every Sunday, that we re- 
 solve to give no more to them." 
 Briefs. 
 
 These are letters patent, or licenses, of 
 the king, issuing out of Chancery, to make 
 collections for repairing churches, re- 
 storing loss by fire, &c. By act of par- 
 liament briefs are to be read in churches, 
 and the sums collected endorsed upon 
 them, attested by the signature of the 
 minister and churchwardens ; and then 
 they are to be delivered, with the money 
 
765 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 30. 
 
 red 
 
 collected, to the persons undertaking them, 
 tvho within two months after receiving the 
 money are to account in chanceiy for the 
 sums gathered.* Briefs are farmed, and 
 were lucrative to the farmers of the bene- 
 volent donations collected at church doors, 
 until it became known that the bene- 
 volent donations under certain briefs be- 
 came the property of brief-jobbers. 
 
 Martial alludes to a relief for fire among 
 the Romans similar to the brief. 
 
 Brkf was a term applied to papal acts 
 sealed with wax ; those sealed with lead 
 were termed tuWs.-f- 
 
 A Brief, in law, is an abridgment of a 
 client's case, as instructions to counsel 
 on the trial of an issue, in which the cir- 
 cumstances are clearly but briefly stated, 
 with whatever may be objected by the 
 opposite side, accompanied by proofs of 
 the facts in support of the case, and tlie 
 names of the witnesses to be called, with 
 what points each witness can prove.J 
 
 Brief, as used by Shakspeare, signifies a 
 sliort writing, as a letter or inventory. 
 — ^— — Bear this sealed brief 
 With wiaged haste to my Lord Mareschal, 
 1 Henry IV. 
 
 Even a speech, says Mr. Nares, is so 
 termed. 
 
 Her busiaess looks in her 
 
 With ao importing visage, and she told me. 
 In a sweet verbal briefs it did concern 
 Your highness with herself. 
 
 All's Well. 
 Mr. Nares says, that hence we may ex- 
 plain the following obscure passage in 
 the same play : — 
 
 Whose ceremony 
 
 Shall seem expedient on the new-born brief> 
 And be performed to-night. 
 That is, says Mr. Nares, "whose cere- 
 mony shall seem expedient in conse- 
 quence of the short speech you have just 
 now made." But this exposition is not 
 quite satisfactory. The passage ought to 
 be taken in connexion with the previous 
 words — 
 
 Good fortune and the favour of the king 
 Smile upon this contract ; whose ceremony 
 Shall seem expedient on the new-bora brief. 
 And be performed to-night. 
 
 The, passage is figurative: indeed, in Mr. 
 Nares's sense of the word brief, it might 
 be said "that even a face is so termed." 
 Philip of France says to our John, 
 
 Tomlins. 
 
 ■f Fosbroke. 
 
 i Tomlins. 
 
 Look hero upon thy brother Geffrey's /ara;-^ 
 These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of 
 
 his ; 
 This little abstract doth contain that large. 
 Which died in Geffirey ; and the hand of time 
 Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume. 
 " n. m. 
 
 June 30. Sun rises ... 3 45 
 — sets .... 8 15 
 
 Agrimony shows its longyellow spike in 
 fields, and goosberries begin to be colored. 
 
 Insects. 
 
 In the open air and clear sunshine of a 
 spring morning, while listening to the joy- 
 ous singing of the birds, I turned my eye 
 upon a piece of water^ and viewed, through 
 it, the various things it covered. The sun 
 darted his glowing beams uninterrupted 
 on this spot. The smooth bottom began 
 to elate itself in bubbles, and quickly 
 af^er to send up parts of its green coat, 
 with every rising bladder of detached air. 
 These plants, which were continued in 
 long filaments to the surface, soon reared 
 their leaves and benumbed branches to- 
 wards the cause of their new life at the 
 surface. The d usky floor whence they had 
 arisen, being now naked and exposed to 
 the sun's influence, disclosed myriads of 
 worms, cheered by the warmth of the 
 sun, unwinding their coiled forms in wan- 
 tonness and revelry. Whole series of 
 creatures began to expand their little 
 limbs, and creep or swim, or emerge above 
 the surface. 
 
 In contemplating this scene, I could 
 not but persuade myself that the source 
 of the Egyptian enthusiasm, all that had 
 given rise to their fabled stories of the 
 production of animals from the mud of 
 the Nile, was now before me. 
 
 While I was ruminating a little creature 
 of a peculiar form and singular beauty 
 emerged from the mud. It soon began to 
 vibrate its leafy tail, and to work the 
 several rings of an elegantly constructed 
 body, and to poise six delicate legs,, as if 
 to try whether they were fit for use. 
 Numbers of others followed it : in a few 
 minutes all that part of the water seemed 
 peopled by this species only. 
 
 A number of these newly animated 
 beings clustered together under the leaves 
 oT a tall plant, part of which was im- 
 mersed in the water, and part above its 
 surface. One of the .insects, allured by 
 the warm rays, rose higher up the plant, 
 came boldly out of the water, and basked 
 in the more free sun-beams under the open 
 
767 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 30. 
 
 768 
 
 air. It had not stood long exposed to 
 the full radiance of the sun^ when it 
 seemed on the point of perishing under 
 his too strong heat. Its back suddenly 
 burst open lengthwise, and, a creature 
 wholly unlike the former arise from within 
 it ! — a very beautiful fly disengaged itself 
 by degrees, and left behind it only a thin 
 skin that~liad been its reptile covering. 
 The newborn inhabitant of the air would 
 now have been suffocated in an instant 
 by the element in which it had before so 
 long lived and enjoyed itself. It carefully 
 avoided it. First, trying its recently dis- 
 entangled legs, it crept to the summit of 
 the herb, to it a towering pine. The sun, 
 which at first seemed to create it, in its 
 reptile state, out of the mud, now seemed 
 to enlarge its wings. They unfolded as 
 they dried, and gradually showed their 
 bright and perfect silky structure. The 
 creature now began to quiver them in 
 various degrees of elevation and depres- 
 sion, and at length, feeling their destined 
 purpose, launched at once into the wide 
 expanse of air, and sported with unre- 
 strained jollity and freedom. 
 
 Happiest of thy racel said I; how 
 would thy brother insects envy thee, 
 could they imagine what was now thy 
 state, safe from the danger of the de- 
 vouring fly, — delivered from the cold wet 
 elements, and free as the very air in which 
 thou wantonnest! I had scarcely finished 
 ray ejaculation, when a cloud . obscured 
 the sun's face; the air grew chill, and 
 hall came rattling down upon the water. 
 The newly animated swarms of reptiles 
 it contained, instantly abandoned the 
 transient pleasures they had enjoyed the 
 last half hour, plunged to their original 
 inactivity in the mud again, and waited 
 in tranquillity a more favorable season. 
 They were now safe, and at their ease ; 
 but the little beautiful fly, which I had 
 before thought an object of their envy, 
 was destroyed by the first falling of the 
 frozen rain, and floated dead upon its 
 watery bier. 
 
 — I ruminated again, and determined 
 never to be insolent in prosperity ; never 
 to triumph over ray friend or neighbour 
 because some favorable event had hap- 
 pened to me — hoped I might ever after 
 remember that the poor fly neither knew 
 how his peculiar good fortune came about, 
 nor foresaw, in his enjoymept, to what ruin 
 he alone was exposed.* 
 
 • Sir John Hill. 
 
 Cheation of the Sun anb Moon. 
 
 For so the light of the world, in the 
 morning of the creation, was spread 
 abroad like a curtain, and dwelt bo 
 where ; that filled the expanse with a dis- 
 semination great as the unfoldings of the 
 air's looser garment, or the wilder fringes 
 of the fire, without knots, or order, or 
 combination ; but God gathered the beams 
 in his hand, and united them into a globe 
 of fire, and all the light of the world 
 became the body of the sun ; and he lent 
 some to his weaker sister that walks in the 
 night, and guides a traveller, and teaches 
 him to distinguish a house from a river, 
 or a rock from a plane field. — Jeremy 
 Taylor. 
 
 The Homes of England. 
 
 The stately homes of England, 
 
 How beautiful they stand ! 
 Amidst their tall ancestral trees. 
 
 O'er all the pleasant land ! 
 The deer across the greenwood bound. 
 
 Through shade and sunny gleam ; 
 And the swan glides past them with the sound 
 
 Of some rejoicing stream. 
 
 The merry homes of England ! 
 
 Around their hearths by night. 
 What gladsome looks of household love 
 
 Meet in the ruddy light ! 
 There woman's voice flows forth m song. 
 
 Or childhood's tale is told. 
 Or lips more tunefully along 
 
 Some glorious page of old. 
 
 The blessed homes of England ! 
 
 How softly on their bowers. 
 Is laid the holy quietness 
 
 That breathes from Sabbath-hours ! 
 Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bells' chime 
 
 Floats through their woods at morn ; 
 All other sounds in that still time 
 
 Of breeze and leaf are bom. 
 
 The cottage homes of England ! 
 
 By thousands, on her plains. 
 They are smiling o'er her silvery brooks. 
 
 And round the hamlet fanes. 
 Through glowing orchards forth thev peep. 
 
 Each from its mote of leaves. 
 And fearless there they lowly sleep. 
 
 As the bird beneath their eaves. 
 
 The free fair homes of England ! 
 
 Long, long in hut and hall. 
 May hearts of native proof be rear'd 
 
 To guard each hallow'd wall ! ■ 
 And green for ever be thy groves. 
 
 And bright the flowery sod. 
 When first the child's glad spirit loves 
 
 Its country and its God ! 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 
: 769 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.^JULY. 
 
 770 
 
 Vol. 1.— 25. 
 
 JULY. 
 
 The mower now gives labor o'er 
 And on his bench beside the door 
 Sits down to see his children play, 
 Smoking a leisure hour away : 
 While from her cage the blackbird sings, 
 That on the woodbine arbor hings ; 
 And all with soothing joys receive 
 The quiet of a Summer's eve. 
 
 Clare's Sht.pherd't Calendar. 
 •2 C 
 
771 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY. 
 
 772 
 
 July is a large part of that portion of 
 the year which is made " glorious summer 
 by the sun." 
 
 A book which has not received its due 
 share of honest praise, and by some acci- 
 dent is, comparatively, little known — 
 " The British Naturalist"— this delight- 
 ful book — is composed of "Sketches of the 
 more interesting productions of Britain, 
 and the surrounding sea, in the scenes in 
 which they inhabit; and with relation to 
 the general economy of nature, and the 
 wisdom and power of its Author." — 
 Through these little volumes 
 
 Nature speaks 
 A parent's language, and, in tones as mild 
 As e'er hush'd infant on its mother's breast. 
 Wins us to learn her lore. 
 
 From amongst a thousand beauties in 
 « The British Naturalist," the following 
 is an extract — on the summer appearance 
 of the great luminary of our system : — 
 
 The charm of a summer's morning is 
 in the upland, and the extensive view; 
 — they who have never beheld the rising 
 sun from a mountain top, know not how 
 fair the world is. Early though it be, 
 there is a sentinel upon the heath ; a shrill 
 whistle comes sharp and clear upon the 
 morning breeze, which makes all the 
 echoes of the west answer. But be not 
 alarmed, there is no danger ; no guerilla, 
 not even a solitary robber, upon the Bri- 
 tish uplands ; and the eagle and the raven 
 are yet in the rocks, and reynard just 
 leaving his earth in the coppice below. 
 That whistle is his reve'.Uie, to warn those 
 birds that nestle among the grass in the 
 heath that the enemy is coming abroad. 
 It is the note of the plover. 
 
 The place to be chosen for a view of 
 sun-rise on a summer morning is not the 
 centre of a mountain ridge — the chine of 
 the wilderness ; hot some elevation near 
 the sea coast, — the eastern coast, where, 
 from a height of about two thousand feet, 
 one can look down upon the chequered 
 beauty of the land, and the wide expanse 
 of the ocean ; where the morning fog is 
 found white and fleecy in the valleys along 
 the courses of the streams, and the more 
 elevated trees and castles, and houses, 
 show like islands floating in the watery 
 waste ; when the uplands are clear and 
 well defined, and the beam gilds yet 
 higher peaks, while the streak upon the 
 sea is of that soft purple which is really 
 no color and every color at the same 
 time. The whole landscape is so soft, so 
 
 undefined, and so shadowy, that one is 
 left to fill up the outline by conjecture ; 
 and it seems to get more indefinite still 
 as the sun comes nearer the horizon. 
 The dews feel the coming radiance, and 
 they absolutely ascend by anticipation. 
 At length there is one streaming pencil 
 of golden light, which glitters and breaks 
 as if it were the momentary lightning of 
 a cloud ; the dew drops at your feet are 
 rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and opals, 
 for an instant; and then it is gone. If 
 the horizon be perfectly clear, this " blink" 
 of the rising sun (and we have observed 
 it only on such occasions as that alluded 
 to) has a very curious effect. It comes 
 momentarily, and, when it is gone, all 
 seems darker than before. But the dark- 
 ness is of as brief duration as the light, 
 and the rising grounds are soon brought 
 out with a power of chiar' oscuro — a 
 grouping of light and shade, that never 
 can be observed when the sun is at any 
 height, as the shadow is from eminence to 
 eminence, filling all the hollows ; and, 
 though deep, it is remarkably transparent, 
 as evaporation has not yet begun to give 
 its fluttering indistinctness to the outlines 
 of objects. By the time that half of the 
 solar disc is above the horizon, the sea is 
 peculiarly fine, and it is better if the view 
 be down an estuary. In the distant off- 
 ing it is one level sheet, more brilliant 
 than burnished gold, in which the boats, 
 with their dark lug sails, as they return 
 from the deep sea fishing, project their - 
 sireaky shadows for miles, though each 
 seems ^ but a speck. The lands on the 
 opposite sides of the estuary pay their 
 morning salutations, in soft breezes wafted 
 across, as the sun touches a point of the 
 one here, and of the other there; for the 
 summer sun no sooner bei>ras out upon 
 one part of the landscape than the little 
 Zephyr from all the others hasten thither 
 to worship, — so instantly does the genial 
 beam put the atmosphere in motion ; and 
 as those Zephyrs come from more moist 
 places, there is absolutely dew upon the 
 parched heights at sun-rise, if they be not 
 too extensive. Those cross winds rippling 
 the water this way and that way, give an 
 opal play to the whole; while behind 
 you, if the estuary stretches that way, it 
 passes into a deep blue, as, from the small 
 angle at which the rays fall, they are all re- 
 flected forward ; and the very same cause 
 that makes the water so brilliant before 
 you, gives it that deep tint in your rear. 
 By and by, the trees and buildings in lateral 
 
773 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— JULY, 
 
 774 
 
 positions come out, with a line of golden 
 light on their eastern sides ; while to the 
 west every pane in the windows beams 
 and blazes like a beacon fire. The fogs, 
 too, melt away, except a few trailing 
 fleeces, over the streams and lakes, that 
 lie sheltered beneath steep or wooded 
 banks; and they soon fade from these 
 also, and the mingled fields, and woods, 
 and streams, are all arrayed in green and 
 gold. The cottage smokes begin to twine 
 upward in their blue volumes ; the sheep 
 are unfolded ; the cattle sent to their pas- 
 tures ; and people begin the labor of 
 the fields. * 
 
 Load is the Summer's busy song 
 The smallest bieeze can find a tongne. 
 While insects of each tiny size 
 Crrow teazing with their melodies. 
 Till noon bums with its blistering breath 
 Around, and day dies still as death. 
 The busy noise of man and brute 
 Is on a sudden lost and mute j 
 Even the brook that leaps along 
 Seems weary of its bubbling song, 
 And, so soft its waters creep. 
 Tired silence sinks in sounder sleep. 
 The cricket on its banks is dumb. 
 The very flies forget to hum : 
 And, save the waggon rocking round. 
 The landscape sleeps without a sound. 
 The bieeze is stopt, the lazy bough 
 Hath not a leaf that dances now ; 
 The tottergrass upon the hill. 
 And spiders' threads, are stauding still ; 
 The feathers dropt from moorhen's wing. 
 Which to the water's surface cling. 
 Are stedfast, and as heavy seem 
 As stones beneath them in the stream ; 
 Hawkweed and groundsel's fanning downs 
 Unruified keep their seedy crowns ; 
 And, in the oven-heated air. 
 Not one light thing is floating there^ 
 Save that to the earnest eye 
 The restless heat seems twittering by. 
 Noon swoons beneath the heat it made. 
 And flowers e'en wither in the shade, 
 Until the sun slopes in the west. 
 Like weary traveller, glad to rest. 
 On pillow'd clouds of many hues ; 
 Then nature's voice its joy renews. 
 And chequer'd field and grassy plain 
 Hum, with their summer srngs again, 
 A requium to the day's decline. 
 Whose setting sunbeams coolly shine. 
 As welcome to day's feeble powers 
 As falling dews to thirsty flowers. 
 
 Clare. 
 
 * British Naturalist, ii. p. 278. 
 
 Vegetable Garden Directukv. 
 Sow, 
 
 In the first week, broccoli seed, for late 
 spring supply. 
 
 Kidney-beans, endive, — and again in 
 the third week. 
 
 Small salading three times, if required ; 
 and lettuce, in a shady spot. 
 
 Peas, the frame, Charlton and Knight's, 
 and again towards the close of the month. 
 
 Beans, mazagan, and 'Arhite-blossom, for 
 late crops. 
 
 Cabbage for coleworts, once or twice. 
 
 Turnips^at any time during the month. 
 
 Turnip-radish, the black, and large 
 white. 
 
 Transplant 
 
 Cabbage, savoy, brbccoli, some into 
 nursery-beds, and others, according to 
 their growth, into final plantations. 
 
 Celery, early in the month, from seed 
 beds, into others of rich earth, four inches 
 apart; and water regularly. Set out 
 large grown plants in trenches for blanch- 
 ing. 
 
 Lettuces, Cos, Silesia, and others, from 
 the seed-beds. 
 
 Attend tu the onion beds, and bend 
 down the stems of those that begin to 
 turn color; take up ripe onions, shalots, 
 and garlic, and expose them to the sun 
 on a dry spot of ground. 
 
 Lay vines of cucumber plants in straight 
 and regular order ; dig lightly round, but 
 not too near their roots. 
 
 Gather herbs for dryiiig. — ^mint, balm, 
 sage, &c. ; dry them in the shade. 
 
 Stick peas, top beans, and scarlet run- 
 ners. 
 
 Earth up the rows of beans, peas, po- 
 tatoes, &c. 
 
 Hoe frequently. 
 
 Remove weeds and litter. 
 
 Water small crops, and plants that have 
 recently been transplanted. 
 
 Alimehtaky Calendar. 
 
 The heats of the season impose the 
 necessity of occasionally substituting a 
 light vegetable diet for the more solid 
 gratification of animal food, and nature 
 provides ample and various means of 
 effecting the change. 
 
 Cauliflowers, artichokes, green peas, 
 French beans, Windsors, or other garden 
 beans, frequently form a conspicuous 
 part of the family dinner, with very 
 moderate supplies of butcher's meal; 
 instead of which, ham, bacon and tongues, 
 2 C 2 
 
775 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-JULY. 
 
 776 
 
 as well as ducks and geese, are the more 
 reasonable stimulants : their 6avor coun- 
 teracts the insipidity of vegetables, and 
 provokes the appetite to a greater con- 
 sumption of them. On festive occasions, 
 venison and turtle retain their pre-emi- 
 nent station at the tables of the opulent, 
 where also the fawn forins an , elegant 
 dish, wlien roasted whole and served, up 
 with rich gravy. Veal, having now been 
 fed on milk in its richest state, is peculiarly 
 fine and well flavored. Kagouts of sweet- 
 breads, oxpalates, lambs' bits, fat livers, 
 and cocks'-combs, are among the light 
 dishes introduced at superior tables ; 
 where alsn various preparations of curry 
 afford a delectable repast to those who 
 have acquired a taste for this Indian diet. 
 
 Quails, during this and the following 
 months, are brought alive in considerable 
 numbers from France in low wicker cages. 
 The ortolan, a delicate little bird of the 
 quail tribe, is imported from Germany 
 either alive, or in a potted state, and 
 being a greater rarity is still dearer than 
 the quail. 
 
 The season affords a plenteous and 
 varied dessert, consisting of pines, melons, 
 peaches, cherries, grapes, currants, goose- 
 berries, and raspberries, as well as early 
 apples and pears. Fruit is cerlaiuly most 
 salubrious in hot weather ; but, if the 
 opinion be well founded that it does most 
 good when taken before dinner, the des- 
 sert ought to take place of that spurious 
 meal called the lunch, which, being usu- 
 ally made of animal food, too often ban- 
 ishes the appetite irrecoverably for the 
 day. In reality, to lunch is to dine. 
 
 Good Living. 
 A gentleman of good estate was not 
 bred to any business, and could not con- 
 trive how to waste his hours agreeably. 
 He had no relish for the proper works of 
 life, nor any taste for the improvements 
 of the mind ; he spent generally ten hours 
 of the four-and-twenty in bed ; he dozed 
 away two or three more on his couch, 
 and as many more were dissolved in good 
 liquor every evening, if he met with com- 
 pany of his own humor. Thus he made 
 a shift to wear off ten years of his life 
 since the paternal estate fell into his hands. 
 One evening, as he was musing alone, his 
 thoughts happened to take a most unusual 
 turn, for they cast a glance backward, and 
 he began to reflect on his manner of life. 
 He set himself to compute what he had 
 consumed since he came of age. 
 
 " About a dozen feathered creatures, 
 small and great, have, one week with 
 another," said he, " given up their lives 
 to prolong mine; which, in ten years, 
 amounts to at least six thousand. Fifty 
 sheep have been sacrificed in a year, with 
 half a hecatomb of black cattle, that I 
 might have the choicest parts offered 
 weekly upon my table. Thus a thousand 
 beasts, out of the flock and herd, have 
 been slain in ten years time to feed me, 
 besides what the forest has supplied me 
 with. Many hundreds of fishes have, in 
 all their varieties, been robbed of life for 
 my repast — and of the smallest fry some 
 thousands. A measure of corn would 
 hardly suffice me, with fine flour, for a 
 month's provision, and this arises to above 
 six score bushels ; and many hogsheads of 
 wine, and other liquors, have passed 
 through this body of mine — this wretched 
 strainer of meat and drink ! And what 
 have I done, all this time, for God or 
 man? What a vast profusion of good 
 things upon a useless life and a worthless 
 liver ! There is not the meanest creature 
 among all those which I have devoured, 
 but what hath answered the end of its 
 creation better than I. It was made to 
 support human nature, and it hath done 
 so. Every crab and oyster I have eaten, 
 and every grain of corn I have devoured, 
 hath filled up its place in the rank of 
 beings, with more propriety than I have. 
 Oh 1 shameful waste of life and time." 
 
 He carried on his moral reflections with 
 so just and severe a force of reason as 
 constrained him to change his whole 
 course of life, to break off his follies at 
 once, and to apply himself to gain useful 
 knowledge, when he was more than thirty 
 years of age. The world were amazed at 
 the mighty change, and beheld him as a 
 wonder of reformation ; while he himself 
 confessed and adored the divine power 
 and mercy that had transfortned him from 
 a brute to a man. He lived many 'follo\y- 
 ing years with the character of a worthy 
 man and an excellent Christian. He died 
 with a peaceful conscience, and the tears 
 of his country were dropped upon his 
 tomb. 
 
 But this was a single instance, and we 
 may almost venture to write " miracle " 
 upon it. Are there not numbers, in this 
 degenerate age, whose lives have run to 
 utter waste, without the least tendency to 
 usefulness ?* 
 
 • FranXlin. 
 
777 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 1, 2 
 
 778 
 
 3}uls 1. 
 
 On the 1st of July, 1690, fell, at the 
 battle of theBoyne, the celebFated George 
 Walker. He was a native, and became 
 rector of Donaghmore, in the county of 
 Tyrone in Ireland. Alarmed by the en- 
 croachments of James II. he raised a. 
 regiment at his own expense, and, the king 
 having taken Coleraine and Kilmore, 
 Walker rode full speed to Lundee, the 
 governor of Londonderry, to apprize him 
 of the danger. The governor slighted 
 the information, and Walker, returning 
 to Lifford, joined Colonel Crafton, took 
 post at the Long Causeway, which he 
 defended a whole night against a vastly 
 superior force, and then retreated to 
 Londonderry. The panic-struck governor 
 lysely deserted his post, and the rector of 
 Donaghmore assisted Major Baker in 
 defending Londonderry, with a bravery 
 scarcely paralleled by the most able gen- 
 erals. 
 
 James, with a numerous army well 
 supplied with every requisite, command- 
 ed in person, and laid siege to London- 
 derry. The besieged had no means for a 
 long defence ; the greater part within the 
 walls were the country people who had 
 fled from their homes for shelter; they 
 had only about twenty cannon, no more 
 than ten days' provision, no engineers, and 
 were without horses for foraging parties 
 or sallies, but held an invincible resolu- 
 tion to suffer the greatest extremities 
 rather than yield. Th^y sent to inform 
 Kmg William of their determination, and 
 implored speedy relief. Major Baker 
 •died, and the command devolved upon 
 Walker. Famine devastated the place. 
 Horses, dogs, cats, rats, and mice were 
 devoured by the garrison, and even salted 
 hides were used as food. In this scene 
 of misery a gentleman who maintained 
 his usual healthy apppearance hid him- 
 self for two days, fearing danger from the 
 eager eyes of the famished people, who 
 seemed to look upon him as reserved for 
 them to feast upon. Walker suffered in 
 •common with his men, and hoped that, as 
 Londonderry had a good harbour, king 
 William would be enabled to raise the 
 siege. By land there was no prospect 
 of succor, and James was so mortified 
 by the city holding out, that, though he 
 could have stormed it, he resolved to force 
 it to surrender by blockade and starvation . 
 He threw a bar across the arm of the 
 to sea prevent vessels from entering the 
 
 port ; and the poor famished inhabitants 
 had the misery to see all hope of relief 
 destroyed. Their patience became ex- 
 hausted, and there was danger of a gen- 
 eral defection. In this state Walker 
 assembled his wretched garrison in the 
 cathedral, and, preaching to inspire them 
 with a reliance upon providence, he as- 
 sured them of a speedy release from their 
 dangers. They returned to their labors 
 invigorated, and, as if he had been a pro- 
 phet as well as a general, they discovered 
 three ships, under the command of major- 
 general Kirk, who had sent Walker a 
 message before, that when he could hold 
 out uo longer he would raise the siege at 
 the hazard of himself, and his men, and 
 vessels. Kirk gallantly sailed on under a 
 heavy cannonade from James's army, and 
 succeeded in crossing the bar in the night 
 of July 31. This saved Londonderry. 
 The siege was raised, and no man in that 
 century gained or deserved higher reputa- 
 tion than Walker. Eesigning the com- 
 mand of the regiment to Kirk he embarked 
 for England, with an address to King 
 William and Queen Mary, who received 
 him as his merit deserved ; and the par- 
 liament, the city, and the university of 
 Oxford, united to do justice to his patri- 
 otism and ability. He received the 
 degree of doctor of divinity : but, pre- 
 ferring the army to the church, obtained a 
 commission from the king and accom- 
 panied him to Ireland, where he perished 
 with the duke of Schombcrg, at Boyne 
 water. 
 
 Had Walker joined his flock instead 
 of going to the field he would probably 
 have been appointed to the see of Derry, 
 which became vacant three days after his 
 death. " However," says Noble, " he 
 seemed designed for a brigadier-general, 
 rather than a bishop." 
 
 ^ h. m. 
 
 Julj I.. Sun rises .... 3 45 
 
 — sets 8 15 
 
 "4* No REAL Night until the 22nd. 
 Elicampane flowers. 
 Copper day lily flowers 
 Evening primrose flowers. 
 Foxglove in full flower every where. 
 
 SttlB 2. 
 
 Official Decypherimg. 
 July 2, 1788. A writer in the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine, in a letter of this date. 
 
7T9 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 2, 
 
 780 
 
 signed P. T., says — " I had the honor to 
 be nearly related to Mr. Justice Bten- 
 cowe, the fether of Mr. William Blen- 
 cowe, who was the first person to whom 
 government allowed a salary as decy- 
 pherer ; and I will tell you how he 
 obtained it ; it was by going to the min- 
 ister unknown, and, I believe, unrecom- 
 mended, and asking for it. The minister, 
 surprised, asked him what pretensions he, 
 a stranger, had to ask such a boon of 
 him ? ' Because, Sir,' said he, ' I am 
 qualified to execute it.' ' Can you V said 
 the minister, ' then decypher these two 
 letters' (for the want of a decypherer of 
 those letters occasioned the proposed re- 
 compense). Mr. Blencowe returned with 
 the letters properly decyphered, and had 
 the employment, and, I think, two or 
 three hundred pounds a year. He was 
 soon after seized with a violent fever, 
 from which no man could have shown 
 more anxiety to get over, and did so ; 
 but soon relapsed, and shot himself, 
 having previously written an inscription 
 for his monument, which I forget, only 
 there was the following singular expres- 
 sion in it, 'he died, liowever, satisfied with 
 life.'" 
 
 Mr. William Blencowe, the decypherer, 
 derived, probably, a knowledge of his 
 art from his mother. She was eldest 
 daughter to that very great adept in the 
 art of decyphering secret-writing. Dr. 
 WalHs, who, it is said, declined the offer 
 of a bishopric to promote the advance- 
 ment of his son-in-law to the dignity of 
 a judge. Blencowe, the decypherer, 
 mainly assisted in disclosing the contents 
 of certain papers, which were produced 
 in evidence against Bishop Atterbury. * 
 
 Sylvanus, Urban's correspondent, says, 
 " The good old judge, his father [Sir 
 John Blencowe, knt.] outliving his facul- 
 ties, conceived that he had found out the 
 longitude, and wrote several reams of 
 paper upon that subject ; and his dutiful 
 son, the decypherer, rather than tell his 
 father it was all absurdity, was at the 
 pains of copying all he had written out, 
 fair, to be laid before the parliament. — 
 Some time before he died, he told his old 
 trusty servant that he was dead, and bid 
 John lay him out. John, who knew his 
 trim, laid him out upon the carpet ; and, 
 after he had lain as dead for some time, 
 John observed that he thought his honor 
 was coming into life again; the judge 
 
 » Noble 
 
 thought so too, and soon after arose from 
 the dead. He died, in reality. May &,1 726, 
 for I well remember going to see his lead 
 coffin at Brackley. And now, Mr. Ur- 
 ban, let me give you a specimen of his 
 head and his heart before his faculties left 
 him. An old man, who had been a hewer 
 of stones for the judge many years, lived 
 to be upwards of ninety, and for some 
 years had daily spoiled the stones instead 
 of rendering them fit for use. Lady 
 Blencowe, perceiving it, desired the judge 
 to continue him his eight pence a day, and 
 let him stay at home. ' No,' no, said the 
 judge, ' let him spoil on ; he has a plea- 
 sure in thinking he earns his daily bread 
 at four score years and ten: but, if you 
 turn him off, he will soon die with grief.' 
 And that was the case, for, when the judge 
 died, he was discharged, and followed his 
 humane and considerate master a few days 
 after." 
 
 Carnation and Insects. 
 
 Tlie fragrance of a carnation led me to 
 enjoy it frequently and near. While in- 
 haling the powerful sweet, I heard an 
 extremely soft, but agreeable murmuring 
 sound. It was easy to know that some 
 animal, within the covert, must be the 
 musician, and that the little noise must 
 come from some little body suited to pro- 
 duce it. I am fiirnished with apparatuses 
 of a thousand kinds for close observation. 
 I instantly distended the lower pait of the 
 flower, and, placing it in a full light, 
 could discover troops of little insects 
 frisking and capering with wild jollity 
 among the narrow pedestals that sup- 
 ported its leaves, and the little threads 
 that occupied its centre. I was not cruel 
 enough to pull out any one of them ; but 
 adapting a microscope to take in, at one 
 view, the whole base of the flower, I gave 
 myself an opportunity of contemplating 
 what they were about, and thife for many 
 days together, without giving them the 
 least disturbance. 
 
 Under the microscope, the base of the 
 flower extended itself to a vast plain ; the 
 slender stems of the leaves became trunks 
 of so many stately cedars ; the threads in 
 the middle seemed columns of massy 
 structure, supporting at the top their se- 
 veral ornaments ; and the narrow spaces 
 between were enlarged into walks, par- 
 terres, and terraces. 
 
 On the polished bottom of these, 
 brighter than Parian marble, walked iii 
 
781 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— JULY 2. 
 
 782 
 
 pairs, alone, or in larger companies, the 
 winged inhabitants: these from little 
 dusky flies, for such only the naked eye 
 would have shown them, were raised to 
 glorious glittering animals, stained with 
 living purple, and with a glossy gold that 
 would have made all the labors of the 
 loom contemptible in the comparison. 
 
 I could, at leisure, as they walked to- 
 gether, admire their elegant limbs, their 
 velvet shoulders, and their silken wings ; 
 their backs vying with the empyrsEan in its 
 hue ; and their eyes each formed of a thou- 
 sand others, out-glittering the little planes 
 on a brilliant. I could observe them here 
 singling out their favorite females, court- 
 ing them with the music of their buzzing 
 wings, with little songs formed for their 
 little organs, leading them from walk to 
 walk among the perfumed shades, and 
 pointing out to their taste the drop of 
 liquid nectar just bursting from some vein 
 within the living trunk : here were the 
 perfumed groves, the more than myrtle 
 shades of the poet's fency, realised ; here 
 the happy lovers spent their days in joyful 
 dalliance ; — in the triumph of their little 
 hearts, skipped after one another from 
 stem to stem among the painted trees ; or 
 winged iheir short flight to the close 
 shadow of some broader leaf, to revel 
 undisturbed in the heights of all felicity. 
 
 Nature, the God of nature, has propoi^ 
 tioned the period of existence of every 
 creature to the means of its support. 
 Duration, perhaps, is as much a compa- 
 tative quality as magnitude ; and these 
 atoms of being, as they appear to us, may 
 have organs that lengthen minutes, to 
 their perception, into years. In a flower 
 destined to remain but a few days, length 
 of life, according to our ideas, could not 
 be given to its inhabitants ; but it may be 
 according to theirs. I saw, in the course 
 of observation of this new world, several 
 succeeding generations of the creatures 
 it was peopled with ; they passed, under 
 my eye, through the several successive 
 states of the egg and the reptile form in a 
 few hours. After these, they burst forth 
 at an instant into full growth and perfec- 
 tion in their wing-form. In this they en- 
 joyed their span o£ being, as, much as we 
 do'yearsr— feasted, sported, revelled in de- 
 lights; fed on the living fragrance that 
 poured itself out at a thousand openings 
 at once before them ; enjoyed their loves, 
 laid the foundation for their succeeding 
 progeny, , and, after a life thus happily 
 tiled up, sunk in an easy dissolution. 
 
 With what joy in their pleasures did I 
 attend the first and the succeeding broods 
 through the full period of their joyful 
 lives I With what enthusiastic transport 
 did I address to each of these yet happy 
 creatures Anacreon's gratulation to the 
 Cicada : 
 
 Blissful insect ! what can be> 
 
 In happiness, compared to thee ? 
 
 Fed with nourishment divine. 
 
 The dewy morning's sweetest wine. 
 
 Nature waits upon thee still, 
 
 And thy fragrant cup does fill. 
 
 All the fields that thou dost see, 
 
 All the plants belong to thee ; 
 
 All that summer hours produce. 
 
 Fertile made with ripening juice. 
 
 Man for thee does sow and plough. 
 
 Farmer he, and landlord thou. 
 
 Thee the hinds with gladness hear. 
 
 Prophet of the ripen'd year ! 
 
 To thee alone, of all the eaith. 
 
 Life is no longer than thy mirth. 
 
 Happy creature ! happy thou 
 
 Dost neither age, nor winter know ; 
 
 But when thou'st drank, and danc'd, and sung 
 
 Thy fill, the flowery leaves among. 
 
 Sated with ..he glorious feast. 
 
 Thou letir'st to endless rest. 
 
 While the pure contemplative mind 
 thus almost envies what the rude obser-'er 
 would treat unfeelingly, it naturally 
 shrinks into itself on ibe thought that 
 there may be, in the immense chain of 
 beings, many, though as invisible to us 
 as we to the inhabitants of this little 
 flower — -whose organs are not made for 
 • comprehending objects larger than a lifiite, 
 or more distant than a straw's breadth — 
 to whom we may appear as much below 
 regard as these to us. 
 
 With what derision should we treat 
 those little reasoners, could we hear them 
 arguing for the unlimited duration of the 
 carnation, destined for the extent of their 
 knowledge, as well as their action ! And 
 yet, among ourselves, there are reasoners 
 who argue, on no better foundation, that 
 the earth which we inhabit is eternal.* 
 
 July 2. Sun rises . 
 — sets . 
 
 h. m. 
 3 46 
 8 14 
 
 Our lady lily f 
 
 thistle > flower. 
 
 slipper 3 
 
 * Sir John Bill. 
 
783 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 2. 
 
 784 
 
 CLOPHILL, BEDFORDSHIRE. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 At distance seen, the fir-clad height 
 Rose like a cloud upon the sight ; 
 But now the bright and quivering green, 
 That peeps those solemn ranks between, 
 Gives it a glory and a grace. 
 That well (how well ! ) becomes the place ; 
 Whilst on the grassy slope below 
 The still and tender sun-beams glow. 
 And with their chastened rays invest 
 The straggling ivy's glist'ning crest ; 
 Like light that comes beyond the tomb 
 To chase the way-worn Christian's gloom ; 
 And scatter round his wasted form 
 A glory that defies the storm. 
 
 The wmds are still, that whispered there. 
 
 Soft as the saintly hermit's prayer. 
 
 When peace, and hope, and heavenly love, 
 
 Fill all the radiant air above, 
 
 And from tjieir balmy wings dispense 
 
 A rich, refreshing influence ; 
 
 And yet those feathery larches seem 
 
 Instinct with life, — an em'rald gleam. 
 
 Flushing the dim and dark-brow'd steep, 
 
 tAie sunlight on the shadowy deep. 
 
 We passed that frowning height beneath, 
 By the deep road, and sandy heath. 
 Tufted with furze, and waving broom, 
 Bright with a golden shower of bloom ; 
 O'er which the wary chaffiiich hung. 
 Brooding on restless wings, and sung — 
 Though the full compass of its throat 
 Drowned not the distant cuckoo's note. 
 That floated o'er the gentle scene 
 In pulses faint, and far between. 
 
 Thus far had I sung, when I bethought 
 myself that plain prose would better suit 
 one who is so over-burthened with " ori- 
 ginal poetry" as the editor of the Tear 
 Book. Had I continued my strain I 
 should presently have led my reader to 
 the church which forms the subject of the 
 preceding cut, — it stands on a pretty 
 eminence in the midst of scenery sin- 
 gularly romantic and beautiful. 
 
 In the church yarfl, I, with some dif- 
 ficulty, decyphered an inscription on a 
 shapeless block of stone, which had for- 
 merly occupied a place in the upper part 
 of a Gothic window. I believe that 
 monuments of the kind, in similar situa- 
 tions, did not come into use much eailier 
 
785 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 3. 
 
 786 
 
 than the date of this specimen, which 
 bore the following broken metaphor : — 
 
 DEATH DO NOT KICK AT MEE 
 
 FOR CHRIST HATH TAKEN 
 
 THY STING AWAY 
 
 1623. 
 
 I noticed also another memorial of very 
 Mngular form, thus inscribed : — 
 
 HEAR 
 
 LIESTHE 
 
 BODEY OF 
 
 THOMAS 
 
 DEARMAN T 
 
 HAT GAVE 6 P 
 
 OVND AYEAR 
 
 TO TH 
 
 RERS O 
 
 ILL 
 
 LR. 
 
 E LABF, 
 F CLOPH 
 1631. 
 
 m.^. 
 
 WVLlV 3. 
 
 In July, 1799, died Mr. Wiiliam 
 Curtis, the eminent writer on botany and 
 entomology. He was the eldest son of 
 Mr. John Curtis, of Alton, in Hampshire, 
 a tanner, where he was born in 1746, and 
 at the age of fourteen bound apprentice 
 to his grandfather, an apothecary at Alton. 
 During this period he was led to study 
 botany by residing contiguous to the 
 Crown Inn, and becoming acquainted 
 ■with the ostler, John Lagg, a sober steady 
 illiterate man of strong sense, who, assisted 
 by the folio herbals of old Gerard and 
 Parkinson, had gained so complete a 
 knowledge of plants, that not one could 
 be brought to him which he could not name 
 without hesitation. Mr. Curtis happened 
 to meet with Berkenhout's Botanical Lex- 
 icon ; and this, with the ostler's were 
 almost the only books on botany which 
 he had been able to procure durin'^ his 
 residence at Alton. On his apprentice- 
 ship there drawing to a conclusion, his 
 friends settled him in London, with Mr. 
 George Vaux, surgeon, of Pudding-lane, 
 and afterwards with Mr. Thomas Talwin, 
 apothecary of Gracechurch-street, to whose 
 business he succeeded. While with these 
 gentlemen he attended St. Thomas's hos- 
 pital, and the anatomical lectures tliere 
 given by Mr. Else, as well as the lectures 
 of Dr. George Fordyce, senior physician 
 to that hospital. Dr. Fordycfc, convinced 
 of the necessity of botanical knowledge 
 to medical students was in the practice 
 
 of accompanying ' his pupils into the 
 country, near town, and instructing them in 
 theprinciples of the science of botany. On 
 these occasions Mr.Curtis assisted the doc- 
 tor in demonstrating the plants which 
 occurred ; and frequently the doctor * 
 confided to him the entire task of demon- 
 stration. Mr. Curtis afterwards gave public 
 lectures in botany, taking. his pupils with 
 him into the fields and woods in the 
 neighbourhood of. London. Nothing 
 could be more pleasant than these excur- 
 sions. At dinner time, the plants col- 
 lected in the walk were produced and 
 demonstrated ; and the demonstrations 
 were enlivened with a fund of humor 
 natural to Mr. Curtis's disposition. He 
 aptly connected the study of entomology 
 with that of botany. About 1771, he 
 published instructions for collecting and 
 preserving insects; and, in 1772, a trans- 
 lation of the " Fundamenla Entomologiae" 
 of Linnaeus. He was chosen demon- 
 strator of botany to the Society of Apo- 
 thecaries, and continued in that situation 
 until finding it interfere too much with 
 his professional duties, he resigned it. — 
 Before this resignation took place, Mr. 
 Curtis had become intimate with Thomas 
 White, esq., brother of the Rev. Gilbert 
 White, the historian of Selborne, and 
 they jointly occupied a very small garden 
 for the culture of British plants, near the 
 Grange-road, at the bottom of Bermond- 
 sey-street. Here Mr. Curtis conceived 
 the design of publishing his great work, 
 the " Flora Londinensis," and having the 
 good fortune to meet with an artist of 
 uncommon talent in Mr. Kilhum, and 
 receiving from Mr. White much valuable 
 assistance, the Grange-road garden soon 
 became too small for Mr. Curtis's exten- 
 sive views. He took a larger piece of 
 ground in Lambeth Marsh, where he soon 
 formed the largest collection of British 
 plants ever brought together into one 
 place. But in the air of this place it 
 became extremely difficult to preserve 
 sea-plants, and many rare annuals required 
 a more elevated situation. He removed 
 his collection to spacious grounds at 
 Brompton, where his wishes were gratified 
 to the utmost extent of reasonable ex- 
 pectation, and where he continued till his 
 death. Several years previous to this, 
 Mr. Curtis found it incompatible with 
 his profession, as an apothecary, to devote 
 so much time as he wished to his favorite 
 pursuits. He first took a partner, and 
 soon after declined physic altogether, for 
 
787 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. -JULY 3. 
 
 788 
 
 natural history, and had nothing to depend 
 upon for a livelihood but the prpcarious 
 profits of his botanic garden and his pub- 
 lications. His Flora Londinensis was an 
 object of universal admiration ; and on 
 this he bestowed unwearied care. But, 
 with all its unrivalled merit, the number 
 of copies sold scarcely ever exceeded 
 three hundred. He disdained to have 
 recourse to artiiice and increased price to 
 enable him to carry on the skle ; but, in 
 1787, he projected the plan of his " Bo- 
 tanical Magazine," and what the sterling 
 merit of his " Flora" could not accom- 
 plish, this effected. It bore a captivating 
 appearance, was so easily purchaseable, 
 and was executed with so much taste and 
 accuracy, that it at once became popular ; 
 and, from its unvaried excellence, con- 
 tinued to be a mine of wealth to him, 
 and greatly contributed to increase his 
 botanical fame. — ^The mode of publication 
 adopted in the Botanical Magazine held 
 out a tempting lure to similar produc- 
 tions, and occasioned the " English Bot- 
 any" of Dr. Smith and Mr. Sowerby. — 
 Unfortunately, Mr. Curtis considered the 
 publication of this work as an act of hos- 
 tility against himself, and this prevented 
 him from communicating with Dr. Smith 
 and even with theLinnaean Society ,of which 
 he was one of the oldest members, and 
 where he had many personal friends. He 
 was gratified with the friendship of Sir 
 Joseph Banks, Mr. Dryander, Dr. John 
 Sims, to whom he committed memoirs of 
 his life, and the most eminent naturalists 
 of the age. 
 
 Mr. Curtis abounded in innocent mirth ; 
 and his constant good humor gave a 
 pleasant cast to every thing he said or 
 did. Few people formed so correct an 
 opinion of themselves. " I have no pre- 
 tensions," he said, in the memoirs which 
 he left with Dr. Sims, " to be considered 
 as a man of letters, or of great mental 
 powers : I know myself and ray imper- 
 fections. A consciousness of my inabili- 
 ties makes me diffident, and produces in 
 me a shyness, which some have been 
 ready to construe into pride." In dis- 
 cernment, as applied to objects of natural 
 history, he had few equals. He disco- 
 vered the membranous calyptra ;n mosses, 
 overlooked by Dillenius ; and that the 
 violas and oxalises produce seeds all the 
 year through, though the latter produce 
 no petals except in t)ie spring, the former 
 only sparingly in the autumn . He pointed 
 out the distinction between Poa pratensit 
 
 and trivialis by the intrafoliaceous mem- 
 brane. Many other instances of his 
 accurate discernment might be mentioned. 
 
 Mr. Curtis was no mean adept in orni- 
 thology. No bird could utter a note, 
 whetiier its usual one, or that of love, or 
 that of fear and surprise, but he could 
 from the sound determine from what 
 species it proceeded. He often regretted 
 that he had not the power of imparling 
 this knowledge. His skill in this par- 
 ticular enlivened many a herborization in 
 waste wilds and embarrassing woods. 
 
 In Entomology few men have observed 
 more : it is only to be regretted that he 
 committed so little to paper. He was so 
 familiar with the motions of insects, that 
 he could almost always declare the intent 
 of those busy and seemingly playful 
 actions in which they were so perpetu- 
 ally employed. 
 
 Mr. Curtis had not received a proper 
 education. One evil almost always arises 
 from this defect. The untutored mind 
 does not know how to fix itself; con- 
 scious of great and various powers, it runs 
 from subject to subject, and never pur- 
 sues any to the limit at which it is capable 
 of arriving. Thus Mr. Curtis was per- 
 petually forming some new design or other, 
 without completing any. He intended 
 that his Flora Londinensis should contain 
 all the plants growing wild within ten 
 miles of London; and, afterwards, others 
 of more distant situations; but he pub- 
 lished only 72 numbers : 70 were of the 
 former description, and two of the latter. 
 He issued two little tracts upon Ento- 
 mology ; but added nothing farther to 
 the series, except a tract on the brown- 
 tailed moth, an unpublished paper upon 
 the Aphis, and another upon the Sphex 
 fabulosa. He began a new illustration of 
 the botanical terms, &c., but he did not 
 put out above two or three numbers. 
 When the '• English Botany" became 
 popular, he thought to counteract the 
 injury (as he thought it) of that work, by 
 giving diminished figures of the plates of 
 his Flora Londinensis ; but did not pro- 
 ceed beyond a few numbers. His account 
 of English grasses was not carried on to 
 the end which he originally proposed. 
 The only work to which he steadily ad- 
 hered was his " Botanical Magazine." 
 Here he found an estatee. Every thing 
 depended upon the regularity of the pub- 
 lication in all its points : he was com- 
 pelled to punctuality ; and he continued 
 it punctually. His versatility was the 
 
789 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 5. 
 
 790 
 
 consequence of what in his case, and 
 from the circumstances of his family, was 
 unavoidahle, an incorrect education. The 
 affluent may profit from remarks of this 
 kind, and do their duty, by giving their 
 children not Jialf finished and superficial, 
 but regular and solid education. 
 
 Mr. Curtis was the first botanist of note 
 in this country who applied botany to the 
 purposes of agriculture Although, as 
 has been before stated, Mr. Curtis's edu- 
 cation was very confined, he had acquired 
 some taste. Elegance and neatness per- 
 vaded whatever he took in hand. The 
 form of his mind was portrayed in his 
 garden, his library, his aviary ; and even 
 a dry "Catalogue of plants in the London 
 Botanic Garden" became from his pen 
 an amusing and instructive little volume. 
 His delicacy never forsook him; nor 
 would he willingly adopt the coarse 
 vulgar names of some of the elder botan- 
 ists, though sanctioned by the authority 
 of Linneeus himself. In short. Mr. Cur- 
 tis was an honest, laborious, worthy man; 
 gentle, and humane, kind to every body ; 
 a pleasant companion, a good master, and 
 a steady friend.* 
 
 SJUIU 5. 
 
 h. m 
 
 July 3. Sunrises 3 47 
 
 — sets 8 13 
 
 Common mullrin, black muUrin, and 
 white muUrin, fiowers. 
 Scotch bellflower fiowers. 
 
 SJttlfi 4. 
 
 The festival of St. Ulric was formerly 
 kept on this day, and Barnaby Googe, in 
 the translation of Naogeorgus, mentions 
 one of the remarkable observances within 
 the church : — 
 WlieTesosaer Huldiyche hath his plaoe, 
 
 the people there brings in 
 Both Carpes and Pykes and Mullets fat, 
 
 his favour here to win. 
 Amid the church there sitteth one, 
 
 and to the aultar nie. 
 That selletfa fish, and so good cheep, 
 
 that every man may buie. 
 
 July 4. Sun rises 3 47 
 
 — sets 8 13 
 
 Garden convolvolus flowers. 
 
 Purple martagon lily in full flower. 
 
 Flowering rush fiowers, at sides of 
 ditdhes and rivers. 
 
 * Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
 The " Bloody Hall" of Bo'ccleugh. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 Fore Street, June 1, 1830. 
 
 Sir, — The following anecdote was re- 
 lated to me by a very respectable old lady. 
 It is well known in the neighbourhood of 
 the occurrence it refers to, and may per- 
 haps be considered worthy of a place in 
 the Year Book. 
 
 In the month of July, or August, 1745, 
 a regiment of Highlanders, marching 
 through Nithsdale, became jealous or sus- 
 picious of the principles of the dukp of 
 Buccleugh ; and, as they came within 
 view of his castle, they unanimously 
 determined to learn his opinions. They 
 hurried onward to the gate of the edifice, 
 and, finding no resistance, passed the 
 threshold, and drew up in the castle yard. 
 The command was given to search for the 
 duke, and every passage and every room 
 was immediately traversed by the soldiers, 
 to no efiect; he had made his escape from 
 the rear, unobserved, and had by that time 
 distanced the castle some miles. It was 
 now manifest that he adhered to the Han- 
 over party, and, under their disappoint- 
 ment, they testified their sense of his 
 grace's defection by driving a considerable 
 number of oxen and sheep from the park 
 into the large and magnificent hall of the 
 castle, where they slew them, and made 
 each other welcome with feast and revelry 
 at the duke's expense. Some of the sheep 
 were even taken up Stairs, into the ball- 
 room, and were there butchered ; the 
 blood spread over the apartment till it 
 found its way down the stairs, and, in 
 short, at their departure, the whole inte- 
 rior of the mansion bore the appearance of 
 a common slatighter-faouse. The heads, 
 skins, and oflal, of the slain animals, 
 were left scattered all over the place. Some 
 of the blood still stains the boards in a 
 passage leading to the hall, and, it is said, 
 cannot possibly be cleansed away. It is 
 even reported that the boards of the floor 
 have been actually replaced to no purpose, 
 for no sooner are new ones laid down than 
 the blood appears as plainly as before. But 
 certain it is that fromthat time the place 
 has been called the Bloody HaU : to this 
 day it bears that appellation. 
 
 Besides indulging in riotous feasting, 
 and drinking the liquors from the cellars, 
 in this adventure, the highlanders cut, and, 
 in some instances, destroyed with their 
 
791 ■ 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 6. 
 
 792 
 
 daggers, beautiful tapestry and paintings, 
 and devastated the edifice. Those re- 
 maining ornaments of the castlej which I 
 have seen, bear marks of the highlanders' 
 stern resentment. 
 
 F. B, 
 
 July 5, 
 
 Sun rises 
 — sets 
 Garden hawrks-eye 
 Musk mallow 
 Red martagon lily 
 Corn marigold 
 
 h. m. 
 3 48 
 8 12 
 
 } 
 
 iUlB 6. 
 
 Dukes of QuEENSBERny — Queens- 
 BEiiKY House, Edinburgh — Drum- 
 LANRTG Castle, &c. 
 
 On the 6th of July, 1711, died in Lon- 
 don, James, the second duke of Queens- 
 berry, a nobleman of distinguished abili- 
 ties, and holding great appointments 
 during the eventful times in which he 
 lived. There are particulars concerning 
 him and his family of no common interest. 
 
 This James, the second duke, was son 
 of William the first duke of Queens- 
 berry, who built Queensberry-house, near 
 the foot of the Canongate, Edinburgh, a 
 stupendous heavy looking mansion, which 
 originally had very fine internal decora- 
 tions, but these were sold and dispersed 
 with the furniture many years ago. Mr. 
 Chambers who mentions this, with many 
 of the particulars about to be related, 
 says, that Queensberry-house stands upon 
 ground which unaccountably, without 
 the following explanation, forms part of 
 the county of Dumfries. Duke William, 
 who erected the building, was lord-lieute- 
 nant of Dumfries-shire, and in that capa- 
 city his personal presence was frequently 
 requireu within that county, while his 
 ministerial duties in Edinburgh no less 
 imperatively demanded his residence in 
 the neighbourhood of the court. He had 
 the omnipotence of the legislature at his 
 command, and by that means procured 
 the site of the house in the Canongate to 
 be considered as part of the county of 
 Dumfries. He thus put Mahomet to 
 shame ; for, finding it impossible to go to 
 Dumfr;es-#hire, he' brought Dumfries- 
 shire to him. 
 
 Queensberry-house, Edinburgh, was 
 occasionally visited by the family about 
 the middle of the last century. The 
 great Earl of Stair died in it in May 
 
 1747. The mansion was at one period 
 divided, and the different portions were 
 occupied by the families of the earl of 
 Glasgow and the duke of Douglas, whose 
 servants used to quarrel so violently, on 
 account of their jarring interests and con 
 flicting duties, that the two noble inhabi- 
 tants were frequently afraid of the house 
 being set on fire about their ears. The 
 last duke William, who scarcely ever 
 possessed it himself, gave the use of it 
 gratuitously to sir James Montgomery, 
 lord chief baron of the exche«juer, who 
 lived in it for a considerable time. The 
 garden behind the house was for many 
 years let to a gardener. People paid 
 sixpence and were allowed to eat as 
 many gooseberries as they could. The 
 gudewife, who gave admittance, after re- 
 ceiving her fee, always said — ' Now, eat 
 as muckle as ye like ; but pouch nane !' 
 The house was at last sold by the duke to 
 William Aitchison, of Drummore, esq., 
 for a paltry sum, the greater part of which 
 the purchaser afterwards got for the marble ■ 
 decorations, and other spoils of the man- 
 sion, which he brought to public sale. 
 He intended to convert the property into 
 a distillery; but, changing his mind, he 
 afterwards sold it to Government for a 
 greater sum than that which he originally 
 gave for it; and it was then converted 
 into a barrack. At present,(1825) it is 
 partly occupied as a fever hospital, and 
 is advertised for sale. 
 
 William, the first duke of Queensberry, 
 further testified his taste in building, by 
 the erection of that splendid edifice Drum- 
 lanrig Castle. Yet he grudged the ex- 
 pense of this great work so much, that 
 he wrote, upon the ljvj.a>t or accounts, 
 " The de'il pike out his een that looks 
 herein." He slept only one night at 
 Drumlanrig; when, having been taken 
 ill, he could make nobody hear him, and 
 had nearly died for want of attendance. 
 He lived _ever after, when in the country, 
 at Sanquhar Castle, a smaller but more 
 convenient mansion. Duke William 
 raised his family from comparative obscu- 
 rity, to wealth and distinction, by par- 
 simony and politics. During the reign 
 of Charles IL he held many important 
 offices, which were continued to him upon 
 the accession of James II., when he had 
 more power in the administration than 
 any other man in Scotland. He was high 
 treasurer of Scotland, governor of Edin- 
 burgh Castle, lord commissioner for his 
 majesty in parliament, and, in 1686, ap- 
 
793 
 
 THE YEAR, BOOK.— JULY 6. 
 
 794 
 
 pointed president of the privy council; 
 but, not complying with the king's wishes 
 to abolish the penal laws against popery, 
 he was deprived of all his public employ- 
 ments the same year, and retired to the 
 country. When the Prince of Orange 
 landed he was struck with the utmost 
 terror ; and his wealth being nearest to his 
 heart, he wrote to a friend, enquiring after 
 some secluded spot in Cumberland, where 
 he might safely deposit his plate. How- 
 ever, he resumed bis courage, and was 
 one of those Scottish noblemen who waited 
 upon the prince to request hira to under- 
 take the administration of affairs. Sub- 
 mitting in every thing to the new govern- 
 ment for policy's sake, he accepted the 
 office of an extraordinary Lord of Session 
 at the hands of king William, while he 
 remained at heart a Jacobite. He died 
 at Queensberry-house in \695. 
 
 Before the death of duke William, his 
 son James, afterwards second duke of 
 Queensberry, obtained several offices 
 under the new government, which he 
 assisted in establishing. He had been 
 appointed a privy counsellor of Scotland 
 by Charles II., and made a lieutenant- 
 colonel of the army ; but resigned his 
 employments under James II. in 1688. 
 King William received hira with peculiar 
 regard — presented to him a commission 
 of captain of his Dutch Guard — restored 
 him to the posts he had before held — 
 made him a lord of the bed-chamber — 
 appointed him to an important military 
 situation in Scotland — conferred on him 
 the office of a lord of the treasury — per- 
 mitted him to vote in the House of Lords 
 as a Scotch peer, while his father was 
 living — and named him lord high treasurer 
 of Scotland. At his father's death, he 
 resigned all his military employments, 
 received the order of the garter, and was 
 made lord privy seal, an extraordinary 
 lord of session, and sat for two sessions 
 as lord high commissioner, as he did 
 afterwards under queen Anne. He was 
 deprived of his places in 1704; but, in 
 the following year, was again at the head 
 of the treasury, and made lord of the 
 privy seal in the exchequer. He was one 
 of the commissioners of the Union, which 
 he was chiefly instrumental in procuring, 
 and, being honored with public thanks 
 from both kingdoms, he was elected one 
 of the sixteen peers to represent Scotland. 
 On his return to London he was met by a 
 cavalcade of noblemen and gentlemen, 
 and conducted to his house by forty 
 
 coaches and four hundred horsemen'. 
 The next day he waited upon queen Anne, 
 at Kensington, where he was received 
 with distinction. He shortly afterward.s 
 received the English titles of duke of 
 Dover, marquis of Beverley, and baron 
 of Rippon — titles limited to lord Charles^ 
 his grace's second son, with a pension of 
 £3000, charged upon the post office. 
 From 1710 until his death he was one of 
 the secretaries of state for the United 
 Kingdom; and, jointly with lord Dart- 
 mouth, keeper of the signet. He married 
 Mary, the fourth daughter of Charles 
 Boyle, lord Clifford, eldest son of 
 Richard, earl of Burlington and Cork, 
 and of Jane, daughter and co-heir of 
 William Seymour, duke of Somerset. 
 
 When the vice-regal duties of lord high 
 commissioner called James, the second 
 duke of Queensberry, to Edinburgh, he 
 constantly resided in the house at the 
 Ganongate, against which edifice the fury 
 of the populace was often directed during 
 those proceedings by which the duke 
 achieved the union. Connected with 
 Queensberry-house there is an awful tale 
 of mystery and horror. His grace's eldest 
 son James was an idiot of the most un- 
 happy sort, rabid and gluttonous, and 
 early grew to an immense height. In the 
 family vault at Durisdeer his unornamented 
 coffin, of great length, is still to be seen. 
 While the family resided in Edinburgh, 
 this monstrous and unfortunate being was 
 always kept confined in a ground apart- 
 ment, in the western wing of the house ; 
 and till within these few years the boards 
 still remained by which the windows of 
 the dreadful receptacle were darkened, to 
 prevent the idiot from looking out, or 
 being seen. On the day the union was 
 passed, all Edinburgh crowded to the 
 Parliament close, to await the issue of the 
 debate. The populace were eager to mob 
 the chief promoters of the measure on 
 their leaving the house. Thewhole house- 
 hold of the Commissioner went en masse, 
 with perhaps a somewhat different object ; 
 and, among the rest, was the man whose 
 duty it was to watch and attend " Lord 
 Drumlanrig." Two members of the 
 family alone were left behind, the madman 
 and a little kitchen-boy who turned the 
 spit. The insane creature hearing every 
 thing unusually still around — the house 
 being completely deserted, and the Canon- 
 gate like a city of the dead — and observ- 
 ing his keeper to be absent, broke loose 
 from his confinement, and roamed wildly 
 
795 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 6. 
 
 706 
 
 through the mansion. It is supposed 
 that the savory odor of the prepara- 
 tions for dinner led him to the kitchen, 
 where he found the little tuinspit quietly 
 seated by the fire. He seized the boy — 
 killed him — took the meat from the fire, 
 and spitted the body of his victim, which 
 he half roasted, and was found devouring 
 when the duke, with his domestics, re- 
 turned from his triumph. The consterna- 
 tion and horror of all concerned may be 
 conceived. The common people, among 
 whom the dreadful tale soon spread, in 
 spite of the Duke's endeavours to suppress 
 it, said that it was " a judgment" upon 
 him for his odious share in the Union. 
 The story runs, that the duke, who had 
 previously regarded his dreadful offspring 
 with no eye of affection, immediately 
 ordered the creature to be smothered. 
 But this is a mistake ; the idiot is known 
 to have died in England, and to have sur- 
 vived his father many years, though he 
 did not succeed him upon his death in 
 1711, when the titles devolved upon 
 Charles, a younger brother. 
 
 It is a remarkable fact, in the history of 
 the Queensberry family, that Charles, the 
 third duke of Queensberry, before assum- 
 ing the title and possessing the estates, 
 which of right descended to his elder 
 brother the idiot, had been created earl 
 of Sol way, and had married his countess 
 lady Catherine Hyde, the second daughter 
 of Henry, earl of Clarendon and Roches- 
 ter, who before her marriage had been 
 deranged in mind and confined in a strait 
 jacket. The duke was born in the house 
 in the Canongate, and resided in it occa- 
 sionally with his duchess, Catherine, when 
 they visited Scotland ; and tradition 
 affirms, that, after duke Charles and his 
 duchess had embroiled themselves with 
 the court, on account of the support 
 which they gave to the poet Gay, they 
 resided for some time here. It is even 
 said that Gay wrote the Beggar's Opera 
 while residing in the Canongate under 
 their protection ; but the patrons of Gay 
 did not quarrel with the Court till after 
 he had written the Beggar's Opera ; and 
 it is apparent from his own letters, that 
 he wrote the Beggar's Ojjera in the same 
 house with Pope and Swift, in England. 
 Certain it is, however, that Gay did 
 live for some time with his patrons both 
 in Edinburgh and at Drumlanrig. Mr. 
 Chambers says, " While Gay was at 
 Drumlanrig he employed himself in pick- 
 ing out a great number of the best books 
 
 from the library, which were sent to Eng- 
 land, whether 'for his own use or the 
 duke's our informant does not certify.'' 
 
 Drumlanrig Castle, being a very large 
 and roomy mansion, is duly honored with 
 the tradition of a ghost, said to be the 
 spirit of a lady Anne Douglas, which used 
 to walk about the house, terrifying every 
 body, with her head in one hand, and her 
 fan in the other. 
 
 While at the Canongate, Gay is said to 
 have frequently visited Allan Ramsay, 
 whose shop was then in the Luckenbooths 
 — the flat above that long kept by Creech, 
 where, for a long course of years, all the 
 literati of Edinburgh assembled daily, 
 like merchants at an exchange. Here 
 Ramsay used to amuse Gay, by pointing 
 out to him the chief public characters of 
 the city, as they met in the forenoon at the 
 Cross. Here, too, Gay read the Gen- 
 tle Shepherd," and studied the Scottish 
 language, so that, upon his return to Eng- 
 land, he was enabled to make Pope ap- 
 preciate the beauties of that admirable 
 pastoral. Gay is said, also, to have spent 
 a good deal of time with the sous of 
 mirth and humor in a twopenny-ale- house, 
 opposite to Queensberry-house, kept by 
 one Janet Hall, who was more frequently 
 called Jenny Ha'. This tenement is sup- 
 posed by Mr. Chambers to have been the 
 lower story of a wooden or plastered 
 edifice in the situation mentioned, where 
 there is now a huckster's shop, marked 
 No. 61. 
 
 Upon duchess Catherine, and her sister 
 lady Jane, who was married to the earl 
 of Essex, Prior wrote his sprightly little 
 trifle :— 
 
 — " Thus, Kitty, beautiful and young." 
 
 Upon the accession of George III., the 
 duke and duchess were received at St. 
 James's, and the duchess walked in her 
 place at the coronation. On this occa- 
 sion Horace Walpole, pursuing Prior's 
 idea, hit off the following impromptu, 
 which, for the neatness of the turn, and 
 the gallantry of the compliment, was 
 much repeated at the time : — 
 
 To many a Kitty, Love his car 
 Would for a day engage ; 
 But Prior's Kitty, ever young, 
 Obtain'd it for an age. 
 
 Yet Mr. Chambers, in allusion to the 
 restraint she was under for her malady, 
 before she wedded, says, « Her conduct 
 in married life was frequently such as to 
 entitle her to a repetition of the same 
 
797 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-JULY 6. 
 
 798 
 
 treatment. She was, in reality, insane, 
 though the politeness of fashionable so- 
 ciety, and the flattery of her poetical 
 friends, seem rather to have attributed her 
 extravagances to an agreeable freedom of 
 carriage and vivacity of mind. — Her 
 brother vras as clever and as mad as her- 
 self, and used to amuse himself by hiding 
 a book in his library, and hunting for it 
 after he had forgot where it was depo- 
 sited." 
 
 The only letter the duchess is known 
 to have written from Scotland is to lady 
 Suffolk, dated, Edinburgh, June, 1734, 
 and contains a passage characteristic of 
 her acuteness. — " O, had I wings like a 
 dove, for then would I fly away to Marble 
 hill, and be at rest ! I mean at rest in, 
 my mind. I am tired to death with po- 
 litics and elections ; they ought in con- 
 science to be but once in an age : and I 
 have not met with any one who doth not 
 eat with a knife, and drink a dish of tea. 
 This, added to many other cutting things, 
 makes a dreadful account. — I have been 
 at an assembly ; and much amused by 
 the many very extraordinaryfeshions. Not- 
 withstanding, I can assure you that my tail 
 makes a verv notable appearance. If you 
 can, to be sure you will rejoice with me, for 
 the sun ha.'s shone to-day, — that I am in 
 hopes it will on Monday, that I may ride 
 out ; for on Sunday no such thing is al- 
 lowed in this country, though we lie, and 
 swear, and steal, and do every other sort 
 of villany every other day ^of the week 
 round. — '* 
 
 The duchess was not an admirer of 
 Scottish manners. She particularly de- 
 tested the custom of eating ofl' the end of 
 a knife. When people dined with her at 
 Drumlanrig, and began to lift their food 
 in this manner, she used to scream out, 
 and, beseeching them not to cut their 
 throats, would send the horrified ofienders 
 a silver spoon,orfork,upon a salver. Gay 
 illustrates this in a letter to Swift, dated 
 February, 1728. "The duchess of Queen- 
 borough has signalized her friendship to 
 me in such a conspicuous manner, that I 
 hope (for her sake) you will take care to 
 put your fork to all its proper uses, and 
 suffer nobody for the future to put their 
 knives in their mouth." In another letter 
 to the dean he says, " Think of her with 
 with respect; value and esteem her as I 
 do; and never more despise a fork with 
 three prongs. I wish, too, you would 
 not eat from the point of your knife. She 
 has su much goodness, virtue, and gen- 
 
 erosity, that, if you knew her, you would 
 have a pleasure in obeying her as I do. 
 She often wishes she had known you." 
 
 When in Scotland, the duchess always 
 dressed in the garb of a peasant girl, in 
 order to ridicule and discountenance the 
 stately dresses and demeanor of the Scot- 
 tish gentlewomen. One evening some 
 country ladies paid her- a visit in their 
 best brocades, as for some state occasion. 
 Her grace proposed a walk, and they were 
 under the necessity of trooping off in all 
 the splendor of full dress, to the utter dis- 
 comfiture of their starched-up frills and 
 flounces. Her grace, at last, pretending 
 to be tired, sat down upon a dunghill at 
 the end of a farm-house, and saying, 
 " Pray, ladies, be seated," they stood so 
 much in awe of her, that they durst not 
 refuse ; and she had the exquisite satis- 
 faction of spoiling all. their silks. Let 
 womankind conceive, as only womankind 
 can, the rage and spite that must have 
 possessed their bosoms, and the battery of 
 female tongues that must have opened 
 upon her grace, as soon as they were free 
 from the restraint of her presence. 
 
 When she went out to an evening en- 
 tertainment, and found a tea-equipage 
 paraded, which she thought too fine for 
 the rank of the owner, she would contrive 
 to overset the table, and break the china. 
 The forced politeness of her hosts on such 
 occasions, and the assurances that no harm 
 was done, &c., delighted her exceedingly; 
 
 Her custom of dressing like a country- 
 girl once occasioned the duchess a disa- 
 greeable adventure at a review. On her 
 attempting to approach the duke, the 
 guard, to whom she was unknown, pushed 
 her rudely back. This put her into such 
 a passion, that she could not be appeased 
 until his grace assured her that the men 
 had been all soundly flogged for their in- 
 solence. 
 
 She carried to court her plain-dealing 
 and plain-dressing. An order had been 
 issued, forbiddmg the ladies to appear at 
 the dtawing-ro.om in aprons. This was 
 disregarded by the duchess, whose rustic 
 costume would have been by no means 
 complete without that piece of dress. On 
 approaching the door, the lord in waiting 
 stopped the duchess, and told her grace 
 that he could not possibly give her ad- 
 mission in that guise; without a moment's 
 hesitation she stripped off her apron, 
 threw it in his lordship's face, and walked 
 on, in her brown gown and petticoat, into 
 the brilliant circle. 
 
799 
 
 TFIE YEAK BOOK.— JULY 6. 
 
 800 
 
 The duchess's caprices were endless, 
 yet, both in her conversation and letters, 
 she displayed a great degree of wit and 
 (]uickness of mind. The duchess died 
 in London, in 1777, at the age of seventy- 
 two. Nobody, perhaps, except Gay, was 
 ever attached to her. She seems to have 
 been one of those beings who are too 
 much feared, admired, or envied, to be 
 loved. 
 
 The du^e, on the contrary, who was a 
 man of ordinary mind, with an amiable 
 disposition, and a good temper, had the 
 affection and esteem of all. His benevo- 
 lence extended even to his old horses, 
 none of which he would ever permit to 
 be killed or sold. He allowed the veter- 
 ans of his stud free range in some of 
 his old parks, with leave to die decent 
 and natural deaths. Upon the duke's 
 decease, at the age of eighty, in 1778, the 
 luckless survivors of these pensioners were 
 all put up to sale by his successor; and 
 the feeble and pampered animals were 
 forced to drag carts, and do other hard labor, 
 till they broke down and died on the roads 
 and in the ditches. 
 
 Duke Charles's eldest son, lord Drum- 
 lanrig, inherited his mother's malady, 
 and was mad. He had contracted 
 himself to one lady and wedded ano- 
 ther. The lady whom he married 
 was an amiable daughter of the earl of 
 Hopetoun. He loved her tenderly, as 
 she deserved ; but, owing to his pre- 
 contract, they were unhappy, and were 
 often observed in the beautiful pleasure- 
 grounds, at Drumlanrig, weeping bitterly 
 together. These hapless circumstances 
 ended fatally. During a journey to Lon- 
 don, in 1754, he rode on before the coach 
 in which the duchess travelled, and shot 
 himself with one of his own pistols. 
 
 Touching fur the Evil. 
 
 July 6, 1660, Mr. Evelyn enters in his 
 diary, on this day — " His majesty Charles 
 II. began first to touch for the evil, ac- 
 cording to custome, thus : — his majesty 
 sitting under his state in the banquetting- 
 house, the cbirurgeons cause the sick to be 
 brought or led up to the throne, where 
 they kneeling, his majesty strokes their 
 faces, or cheekes, with both his hands at 
 once, at which instant a chaplaine in his 
 formalities says, ' he put his hands upon 
 them and he healed them.' This is sayd 
 to every one in particular. When they 
 have been all touched they come up again 
 
 in the same order, and the other chaplaine 
 kneeling, and having an angel-gold* 
 strung on white ribbon on his arme, de- 
 livers them one by one to his majesty, who 
 puts them about the necks of the touched 
 as they pass, whilst the first chaplaine re- 
 peats, ' that is the true light, who came into 
 the world.' Then follows an epistle (as at 
 first a gospel), with the liturgy, prayers 
 for the sick, with some alteration, lastly 
 the blessing : then the lord chamberlaine 
 and comptroller of the household bring a 
 basin, ewer, and towell for his majesty to 
 wash." 
 
 It appears that on May 14, 1664, "a 
 notice was given that it is his sacred 
 majesty's pleasure to continue the healing 
 of his people for the evil during the 
 month of May, and then to give over till 
 Michaelraas."t 
 
 This alleged miraculous power is sup- 
 posed to have been first exercised by 
 Edward the Confessor, and to have been 
 since hereditary in the royal line, at least 
 io the period of the decease of queen 
 Anne.J 
 
 [For the Year Book.J 
 Dialogue on the Death of L[ndley 
 
 Murray, Esq. 
 " A truly good man — he writes very coirettly." 
 
 Dramatis Persona. 
 I^s the first person. 
 Thou — is the second person. 
 He : She : or. It : — is the third person. 
 I — Those sentinels in sable clad 
 
 Why stand they there, supinely sad ? 
 Thou — To mimic sorrow they convene. 
 
 Before the house where death has been : 
 But 'twere of no avail to ask 
 For whom they speed their mournful task. 
 Since he, whose door they have sur- 
 rounded. 
 Tells us that " Mutes cannot be sounded." 
 He — Death, then, if I have rightly heard. 
 Was so ** irregular" a word, 
 That Murray, though he might define it. 
 Was quite unable to " decline" it. 
 
 D. A. 
 
 h.i m. 
 
 July 6. Sun rises 3 48 
 
 — sets 8 12 
 
 Nipplewort flowers. 
 
 Convolvolus tricolor in full flower. 
 
 * Pieces of money so called from having 
 the figure of an angel on them. 
 
 t Nichols's Literary Anecdotes, iv. 55. 
 } Drake's Shakspeare and His Times, i. 370. 
 See further in the Every Day Booh. 
 
sot 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 6. 
 
 802 
 
 AN ADVENTURE IN SHERWOOD FOREST. 
 
 Vol. I.— 26, 
 
 A Little Geste of Robin Hood. 
 
 , £For the Year Book.] 
 
 I ciiunot paifilly my paternoster as the priest it singeth. 
 
 But I can rhyme of Robyn Hode and Randall erle of Chester, 
 
 Tho' of oure lorde and our ladye I can nothynge at all. 
 
 Vision of Pierce Plougk 
 
 There strides a warjior darfc and grim 
 
 Through Sherwood's sylvan shade, 
 
 And a battle-ax is held by him. 
 
 And keen is its -polished blade ; 
 
 And he is cased from top to toe 
 
 In panoply of steel, 
 
 From his nodding horsehair plume, I trow, 
 
 To the spur upon his heel. 
 
 H« pauses — fronting in fiis path 
 
 Forth leaps a stalworth man ^ 
 
 The warrior trembled with very wrath. 
 
 And his tawny cheek grew wan. 
 
 For the stranger's name was Robin Hood, 
 
 And down he flung his glaive ; 
 
 " Thou shalt fight," he cried, " or, by the rood, 
 
 I willbrand thee an errant knave ;" 
 
 2D 
 
803 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 6. 804 
 
 " And I am a chief from Palestine, 
 
 So 'tis but meet and right ' 
 
 That I should cross my steel with thine. 
 
 Outlaw 1" replied the knight. 
 
 They fought, and from the crosier's mail 
 
 Soon welled a purple flood ; 
 
 Yet his blows they fell as quick as hail. 
 
 And every blow drew blood. 
 
 " A truce !" cried Robin, " thou shalt wend. 
 
 Bold swordsman, home with me. 
 
 For never did I hope to find 
 
 So brave a knight as thee," 
 
 " Then lead the vray," the knight he said. 
 
 Nor Robin made reply, 
 
 Though haughty was the warrior's head, 
 
 And flashed his piercing eye ; 
 
 But blithely blew his silver call 
 
 And, ere the echoes slept, 
 
 One hundred archerg, stout and tall. 
 
 Appeared at right and left : 
 
 " These are my body guard, fair Sir,. 
 
 Should fortune prove unkind, . 
 
 Or foes invade my haunts, there are 
 
 Full fifty more behind. , 
 
 Yon coppice forms my leafy bower, 
 
 My realm is woman's heart : 
 
 Woe light on him who braves my power ; 
 
 Now tell me whom thou art ?" 
 
 " I am Kitio RicBARD ! — bowman stay. 
 
 No bending of the knee. 
 
 For I have proved thy brand to day. 
 
 Nor doubt thy loyalty.'' 
 
 God rest the soul of Robin Hood, 
 For a gentle thief was he. 
 As ever ranged the gay green wood — 
 God rest his company. 
 And, if ye chance fair Sherwood through 
 To bend' your weary way, 
 Patter an Ave for Robin Hood, 
 And his gallant band I pray. 
 Walworth J. F. R. 
 
 Kino John, Robin Hood, and Matilda, than this of Davenport's tragedy on the 
 T, , T subject ; and I should therefore be inclined 
 [For the Year Book.} j^ think that he was misinformed, and 
 A correspondent in the Table Book, that the event recorded by him never 
 vol i., p. 803, writes, " How comes it happened." Master Davenport's testi- 
 that Robert Davenport, in the seventeenth mony is, in the main, correct. After her 
 century, should be so well informedas to husband's murder, Matilda fled to Dun- 
 know that Matilda ended her days in a mow Priory, — for there her monument is 
 nunnery, by poison administered by order still preserved. It stands on the left side 
 of king .lohn, when there is no tradition of the chancel, in the church adjoining 
 extant of the time and manner of her (which was formerly a part of the con- 
 decease. We have no other authority vent), and a black stain disfigures her fair 
 
805 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 7. 
 
 806 
 
 marble effigy, designed to show tliat she 
 died by poison. 
 
 Malone remarks of Matilda that this 
 lady was poisoned by king John, at Dun- 
 mow priory, and Brand- is of the same 
 opinion. 
 
 There are good reasons for the ignorance 
 of the contemporary chroniclers. It is 
 little likely that Marian, fleeing from a 
 vindictive tyrant, would have disclosed 
 the place of her retreat ; neither would 
 king John have cared to increase his 
 unpopularity by publishing his barbarous 
 orders. 
 
 The recluses (probably awed or bribed 
 into' silence) caused the monument to be 
 erected over the grave of the victim, and 
 Robert Jlavenport may have been the first 
 person who noticed if. 
 
 Another correspondent, in the Every 
 Day Book, denies the authenticity of Ro- 
 bin Hood's epitaph, " Hear undernead 
 dis laitel stean," &c. ; whereas, Ritson, 
 the most cautious and fastidious of anti- 
 quaries, seems inclined to admit its ge- 
 nuineness. 
 
 Among an odd collection of MS. songs 
 in my possession, I find the following, 
 which asserts (though witliout foundafiori) 
 that the outlaw was poisonedhy his sister, 
 the prioress of Kirkleesr Here it is :' 
 
 Le Morte t)E Robin Hode. 
 
 To KerVlees stately priorie 
 Game an eld time-woru man. 
 And for food and shelter prayed he. 
 Ye chief of a noble clan 
 
 He was — who in Bumsdale and merrie Sher- 
 wood 
 Sported blithely in time agone. 
 And albeit full could crept his sluggish blode, 
 Yt ye step was firm and ye beariiig protid. 
 Of Robin,- ye outlawed one. 
 
 And ye prioress gave him a brimming bowie. 
 
 And bade him drink deep therein, 
 
 *• 'Twoald solace*' she said, " his fainting 
 
 sowle ;" 
 And her's was a deadlie sinne. 
 For, although he called her his sister dear. 
 And she smiled when she poured for him 
 Ye sparkling wine, there was poison there. 
 Ami herself had mingled ye druggs with care ;. 
 And she pledged her guest, with, a thrill of 
 
 fear. 
 Though she touched but ye goblet's brim. 
 
 Fearful and long was his dying groan. 
 As his spirit to Hades fled. 
 And ye prioress stood like a rooted stone 
 When she saw that ye erle was dede : 
 
 And her eyes grew glazed, and she uttered a 
 
 yell 
 Too horrid for mortal ear. 
 And laughter rang — 'Mas the mirth of hell — 
 Through that pile so lone and drear. 
 
 On ye self-same night ye murdress died. 
 
 But she rotted not alone. 
 
 For they laid her carcase side by side 
 
 With Robin of Huntingdon. 
 
 And they placed a fayre stone on ye mossy 
 
 bed 
 Of that brave but erring one, 
 Aiid many a pilgrim hath wept when he read 
 What 13 written that stone upon. 
 
 Next follows his epitaph. 
 
 The pedantry of the last stanza but one 
 savors strongly of the monastery, but no 
 monh would have called the outlaw's com- 
 pany " a noble clan," neither would any 
 of the earlier minstrels have stolen idea-* 
 from the pagan mythology. It may have 
 been first composed in the sixteenth cen- 
 tury. 
 
 1 am, &c., 
 J. F. R. 
 
 June 16, 1831. 
 
 P. S. Some of yonr readers may have 
 other versions, of the above ballad ; if so, 
 they would do well to forward them (o 
 the Year Book. 
 
 Bn\^ 7. 
 
 This is the anniversary of the death of 
 St. Thomas a Becket, at whose tomb 
 Henry II. submitted to the penance of 
 flagellation. 
 
 FCageliation. 
 
 Among instances of correction bestowed 
 by saints upon persons who did not ask 
 them for their advice, none can be quoted 
 more remarkable than that of St. Romu- 
 ald, who severely flagellated his own fa- 
 ther. Cardinal Damian greatly approves 
 this action, and relates that after St. Ro- 
 muald had received permission from his 
 superiors to execute his purpose, he set 
 out upon his journey, barefooted, without 
 either horse or cart, and only with a stick 
 in his hand ; and, from the remotest bor- 
 ders of France, at last reached Ravenna, 
 where, finding his father determined to 
 return to the world, he put him in the 
 stocks,, tied him with heavy chains, dealt 
 hard blows to him, and continued using 
 him with this pious severity till he had 
 diverted him from his intention. 
 
 De Lolme says that an instance of a 
 sovereign submitting to a flagellation, may 
 
SOT 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 8. 
 
 808 
 
 be seen in our own dajfs, at every vacancy 
 of the see of Wurtzburgh, a sovereign 
 bisViOpric in Germany. It is an ancient 
 custom in the chapter of that church, that 
 the person who has been elected to fill the 
 place of the late prince bishop, must, 
 before he can obtain his installation, run 
 the gantlope, naked to the waist, between 
 ,the canons, who are formed in two rows, 
 and supplied with rods. 
 
 Among the sovereigns who were pub- 
 licly flagellated was Raymond, count of 
 Toulouse, whose sovereignty extended 
 over a very considerable part of the south 
 of France. Having given protection in 
 his dominions, to the Albigenses, pope 
 Innocent III. published a crusade against 
 him; his dominions were in consequence 
 seized, nor could he succeed in getting 
 them restored, until he had submitted to 
 receive discipline from the hands of the 
 legate of the pope, who stripped him 
 naked to the waist, at the door of the 
 church, and drove him up to the altar, in 
 that situation, all the while beating him 
 with rods. 
 
 Henry IV., of France, was a sovereign 
 who submitted to flagellation from the 
 church. It was inflicted upon his being 
 absolved of excommunication and heresy; 
 and it proves the fact that the most com- 
 fortable manner of receiving a flagellation 
 is by proxy. Henry IV. suffered the 
 discipline which the church inflicted upon 
 him, through Messrs. D'Ossat, and Du 
 Perron. During the ceremony of the 
 king's absolution, and while the choristers 
 were singing the psalm, Miserere mei 
 Deus, the pope, at every verse, beat with 
 a rod, on the shoulders of the two proxies. 
 As an indulgence to the king, his proxies 
 were suffered to keep their coats on during 
 the discipline. It had been reported, out 
 of envy towards them, on account of the 
 commission with which the king had ho- 
 nored them, that they had been made 
 actually to strip in tlie church, and un- 
 dergo a dreadful flagellation. This report 
 M. [D'Ossat contradicts in one of his 
 letters, which says that the flagel^tion was 
 performed to comply with the rules set 
 down in the Pontifical, but that " they felt 
 it no more than if it had been a fly that 
 had passed over them, being so well 
 coated as they were." The proxies of 
 Henry IV. were made cardinals, and, 
 though express mention of the above dis- 
 cipline was entered in the written process 
 drawn up on the occasion, yet the French 
 ministers would not suffer it to be inserted 
 
 in a bull of absolution which was sent to 
 the king. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 July 7. Sun rises .... 3 49 ^ 
 — sets 8 11 
 
 Raspberries begin to ripen. 
 
 Most of the strawberries are in full per- 
 fection. 
 
 On the 8th of July, 1726, died John 
 Ker, of Kersland, of the ancient family of 
 Crawfurd, of Crawfurdland, in Scotland. 
 He was born at Crawfurd land-house, 
 August 8, 1673, and took the surname of 
 Ker from having married, in 1693, a 
 daughter of the head of the powerful clan 
 of Ker. His father, Alexander Crawfurd, 
 esq., a lawyer, was courted by James II., 
 but, as a firm presbyterian, who rejected 
 all toleration under a sovereign professing 
 the Roman catholic religion, he refused 
 to receive court employment. His son, 
 John Ker, beeame a spy under queen 
 Ann, to defeat the designs of the friends 
 of tlie Stuarts. Like other spies, when 
 he had performed his despicable office, 
 he was despised and neglected by those 
 whom he had served, and reduced, in his 
 old age, to supplicate the government for 
 support, while he acknowledged the de- 
 gradation of his employment. What he 
 received for all his patriotic pains, besides 
 two gold medals of the electress dowager, 
 and George I., does not appear. He 
 published memoirs of himself, in which 
 he says, " I confess^ the public would be 
 at no loss if I were dead, and my memory 
 buried in oblivion : for I have seen too 
 much of the villany and vanity of this 
 world to be longer in love with it, and 
 own myself perfectly weary of it." He 
 was long confined for debt in the king's 
 bench prison, where he died in distress, 
 ten years after the publication of his 
 work.*' 
 
 Jnly 8. 
 
 [h. m. 
 Sun rises .... 3 50 ' 
 
 — sets 8 10 I 
 
 White bind-weed flowers in hedges. 
 - Enchanters' nightshade, and Alpine 
 enchanters' nightshade, flower. 
 
 • Noble. 
 
809 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 10. 
 
 810 
 
 SJuIp 9. 
 
 Parliamektaby Debates, and Eaely 
 Newspapers. 
 
 July 9, 1662, a question arose in the 
 Irish parliament, concerning the publica- 
 tion of its debates, in an English news- 
 paper, called " The Intelligencer ;" and 
 the Irish speaker wrote to sir Edward 
 Nicholas, the English secretary of state, 
 to prevent such publication in those 
 " diumals." 
 
 The long parliament first published pe- 
 riodical appeals to the people, with 
 accounts of their proceedings. The 
 earliest of them, called " Diurnal Occur- 
 rences of Parliament," appeared Nov. 3, 
 1641 ; they were continued to the restora- 
 tion, somewhat in the manner of our 
 Magazines, and were generally called 
 " Mercuries," as Mercurius Politicus, 
 Mercurius Rusticus, &c., and one of them, 
 in 1644, appears under the odd title of 
 Mercurius Fumigosus, or, the Smoking 
 Nocturnal. 
 
 The publication of parliamentary pro- 
 ceedings was prohibited after the restora- 
 tion, as appears from a debate March 24, 
 1681 ; in consequence of which, the votes 
 of the house of commons were first printed 
 by authority of parliament. 
 
 The policy of Elizabeth and Burleigh 
 devised the first genuine newspaper, the 
 English Mercuric, printed during the 
 Spanish armada. The earliest number in 
 the British Museum is marked 50; it is 
 dated the 23d of July, 1583, and contains 
 the following curious article : — 
 
 " Yesterday the Scotch ambassador had 
 a private audience of her majesty, and 
 delivered a letter froni the king, bis mas- 
 ter, containing the most cordial assurances 
 of adhering to her majesty's interests, and 
 to those of the proteslant religion : and 
 the young king said to her inajesty's mi- 
 nister at his court, that all the favor he 
 expected from the Spaniards was the 
 courtesy of Polyphemus to Ulysses, that 
 he should be devoured the last." 
 
 These publications were then, and long 
 afterwards, published in the shape of 
 small pamphlets ; and are so called in a 
 tract by one Burton, printed in 1614: 
 " If any one read now-a-days, it is a play- 
 book or a phamphlet of newes." 
 
 From 1588, to 1622, and during the 
 reign of James I., few of these publica- 
 tions appeared ; but tbe thirty years' war. 
 
 and the victories of Gustavus Adolphus, 
 having excited the curiosity of our coun- 
 trymen, a weekly paper, called The News 
 of' tlie Present Week, was . printed by 
 Nathaniel Butler, in 1622, which was 
 continued afterwards, in 1626, under 
 another title, by Mercurius Britannicus. 
 These were succeeded by the German In- 
 telligencer, in 1630, and the Swedish Intel- 
 ligencer, in 1631, which last, compiled by 
 William Watts, of Caius college, gave 
 the .exploits of the Swedish hero in a 
 quarto pamphlet. 
 
 The first regular newspaper, in the 
 present form, was thePtii^Jc Intelligencer, 
 published by sir Roger L'Estraoge, Aug. 
 31,1661. 
 
 The first daily paper, after the revolu- 
 tion, was called the Orange Intelligencer. 
 
 From an advertisement in a weekly 
 paper, called the Athenian Gazette, Feb. 
 8, 1696, it appears that the coSee-hoases 
 in Loudon had then, exclusive of votes 
 of parliament, nine newspapers every 
 week ; but there seems not to have been, 
 in 1696, one daily newspaper. 
 
 In 1709, eighteen newspapers were 
 published ; of which, however, only one 
 was a daily paper, the London Courant. 
 
 In 1724 there was published three 
 daily, six weekly, and ten evening papers 
 three times a week.* 
 
 The London Gazette commenced Nov. 
 7, 1665. It was at first called the Oxford 
 Gazette, from its being printed in that 
 city, during a session of parliament held 
 there on account of the plague.* 
 
 h. m. 
 July 9. Sun rises . . . . 3 51 
 
 — sets 8 9 
 
 Milfoil flowers. 
 
 Starlings flock together, and so continue 
 till winter. 
 
 IJUlfi 10. ^ 
 
 10 July, 1700, died, at the age of 66, 
 sir William Williams, a native of Wales, 
 eldest son of Hugh Williams, D. D., of 
 Nantanog, in Anglesea. He was sent to 
 Jesus College, Oxford, and in 1654 was 
 entered of Gray's Inn, to study the law : 
 he afterwards became a barrister, and in 
 1667 recorder of Chiester. In 1678, the 
 electors of that city returned him one of 
 their representatives in parliament, and 
 
 * Chalmers's Life of Ruddimann. 
 
811 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 18. 
 
 812 
 
 again in 168i. Though then a young 
 man, he was elected speaker of the house 
 of commons, in both parliaments, and 
 voted for the bill of exclusion. For di- 
 recting the printing of certain Votes reflect- 
 ing upon some of the peerSj the duke of 
 York induced his partisans in the house 
 of lords to prosecute Williams as speaker, 
 and, contrary to all expectation, he was 
 sentenced -to pay £10,000. He then 
 adopted the politics of the court. James 
 II. received him, on his accession, with 
 cordiality, appointed him his solicitor- 
 general, knighted him, and, on July 6, 
 1688, created him a baronet. This here- 
 dita'ry rank was intended as a rew-ard for 
 prosecuting the seven bishops, against 
 whom he proceeded with disgraceful viru- 
 lence. James lost Ws crown, and the 
 lawyer his interest, with little prospeot of 
 -succeeding in his profession, or as a po- 
 litician ; he yet contrived to obtain a seat 
 in parliament, in the years 1688, 1690, 
 and 1 695, for the county of Caernarvon, 
 and, dying at his chambers in Gray's Inn, 
 his body was conveyed to the chnrch of 
 Llaasilin, in Denbighshire, where a monu- 
 ment erected to his memory bears a long 
 encomiastic epitaph in Latin, which is 
 printed in York's " lloyal Tribes of 
 Wales." Jlis descendants in consequence 
 of having been adopted by their relation, 
 sir John Wynne, bart.,* are known by 
 the addition of Wynne to their family 
 name of Williams. 
 
 July 10. Sun rises .... 
 — sets .... 
 Deadly nightshade "j 
 
 Purple garden bindweed > flowgr. 
 White Japan lily y 
 
 h. m. 
 3 52 
 S 8 
 
 Sulyii. 
 
 July 11, 1767, died., athis house in St. 
 Martin's-lane, Mr. Nicholas Read, sculp- 
 tor. He was Roubilliac's first apprentice, 
 lloubiliiac, on settling in England, had 
 determined never to take an apprentice 
 on any terms. Reed's father, on hearing 
 of Roubilliac's great abilities, and disco- 
 vering an early, propensity in his son to 
 drawing and modelling, prevailed with 
 Roubilliac to take his son into his house, 
 and instruct him. Some few weeks after- 
 wards, Roubilliac Wjorking on a ver)' fine 
 bust, which he would not permit any one 
 but himself to touch, It-ead was daring 
 
 • Noble. 
 
 enough, in the absence of his master, to 
 attempt to finish it, which he either nearly 
 or quite accomplished. Roubilliac, sur- 
 prised by the talent displayed on the 
 figure, took him apprentice,, and they 
 continued inseparable friends. In 1762 
 and 1763, Read gained the two largest 
 premiums ever given by the Society of 
 Arts for sculpture, against candidates .of 
 alj nations. He succeeded to Roubilliac's 
 business ; and there are nvore performances 
 by Read in Westminster Abbey, than by 
 any other artist. His faculties were, from 
 his great studies, impaired at a time of 
 life- when other men's are in their prime, 
 and he became totally deprived of reason 
 some short time before his death. 
 
 July 11, Sun rises , . 
 — sets . , 
 Nightshade 
 Bittersweet 
 
 Great yellow wolfsbane 
 Jove's flower 
 Orpine 
 
 Mountain leopard's-bane 
 Alpine leopard's-bane 
 Stalkless thistle in full flower, 
 
 h. m. 
 
 3 52 
 
 8 8 
 
 flower. 
 
 The following communication, intended 
 for the livery Day Book, arrived too late 
 for convenient insertion in that work, and 
 became mislaid until now, when it is in» 
 produced as suitable to the season. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 Gedney, July 15, 1826. 
 Dear Sir, — Seeing, in the Epery Day 
 Pook,* a communication from my re- 
 spected friend, J. P., dated Wisbeach, I 
 am stimulated to ?end you something, also. 
 Moreover, when I consider how indefatig- 
 able you are ip providing such a rich repast 
 for the public, 1 am free to confess, we,oi^ht 
 to want no other stimulus. Under date the 
 12th of June,f you gave us, from the 
 " Mirror of the Months," a short account 
 of sheep-shearing. Now, sheep-shearing 
 js seldom ,conclud.ed, in this neighbour- 
 hood, till the middle of July; therefore, I 
 hope what I send yjou will not be qujte 
 ,o.ut of date. The accompanying poem 
 .is the iExtemporaneous production of a 
 gentleman >yho, some ti.me ago, was a 
 minister of the New Jerusalem Church, 
 
 ^ : ■ — — r 
 
 » Vol. ii. 882. t Ibid, 787. 
 
813 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 12. 
 
 814 
 
 in your great city. I believe he is yet 
 alive, but removed to Norwich. When 
 the lines were written he was a Baptist 
 preacher, residing at the village of Lutton 
 in Lincolnshire, where the great Dr. Busby 
 was born. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 vnth very great respect, 
 yours truly, 
 W. Wilton. 
 
 Sh£EF Sheai^ing, 
 
 Written at Mr. John E***'s, Gedney. 
 
 From days unnumbeT'd hath the custom been 
 To shear, in summer months, the loaded sheep. 
 And keep the jocund feast ; so still remains 
 The festival among the rustic race. 
 Behold, with Joy the grazier sees his fiock, 
 Loaded with wool, drop to the boafd prepared. 
 Where round attend the sturdy sous of toil. 
 With cleanly shears, well whetted, to divide 
 The fleece from off the loaded, panting, flock. 
 Fsnn'd in the idd, and all hands fit for work, 
 liO ! forth the boarder l»ings each man his 
 
 sheep, 
 JLnd then the glass goes round ; a health all 
 
 drink 
 To him who owns the flock, and wish success 
 May crown the honest master's care and pains. 
 All hands to work ; the perspiratiua flows 
 Fast trickling down the shearers' weather'd 
 
 faces ; 
 But, us'd •' to toil and sweat," they labor on. 
 Unheeding the fatigue. Th« master sends 
 Oft round the board the strength-reviving 
 
 ale. 
 To cheer his laVrers ; while the ruddy boy 
 Hands out the sheep to the delighted owner, 
 For him to use the brand. See how he smiles. 
 While on the well-shorn back he sets his 
 
 mark. 
 And softly whispers, "go, forthou art mine !" 
 Oft looks he, pleas'd, upon the weighty fleece. 
 The pile of wool, and the plump,' welUfed sides 
 Of his fat flock ; revolving. in his mind 
 The needful gain, to pay him for his care. 
 Uudaimted, then, lie thinks him of the day 
 When rent is due, nor fears the landlord's 
 
 iace; 
 But hears of seizures, gaols, and blant dis- 
 charge. 
 With mind unhurt, and honest indignation. 
 But, lo ! the huddling flocks are nearly 
 
 shorn. 
 And the kind, hospitable, mistress now 
 Hastes to prepare the well-provided feast. 
 The -table's set, and all acquaintance come 
 ¥o share the healthful food and smiling ale. 
 The shearers put aside the fleecing-blade,' 
 And join in cheerful chat. The young and 
 
 strong- 
 In rural pastime spend the joyous hours ; 
 Jump o'er the board, or toss the heavy bar ; 
 ivrapple each other, give a harmless fall \ 
 And show their vigor and activity. 
 
 In feats well-pleasing to the rustic throng. 
 The evening comes ; and then the master's 
 
 house 
 Is fiU'd with guests. The neighb'ring poor 
 
 attend. 
 Right welcome to the board ; the nut-brown 
 
 ale 
 Briskly goes round, till all have had enough ; 
 Then stops the pitcher ; for the prudent host 
 Will bave no drunkards to pollute the feast. 
 The signal understood, the throng retires. 
 Praising the author of the friendly treat. 
 And wishing him success for many years. 
 His friends remain to pass another hour. 
 Then part in peace j and wish the owner may 
 Long share the blessings of increasing flocks. 
 Feed oft the needy poor, and round diffuse 
 The gifts with which kind heaven hath fill'd 
 
 his hand. 
 So may ^ach honest grazier e'er be graced 
 With every earthly good, while he bestows 
 Upofl the poor a charitable share. 
 And aids the sons of poverty and want t 
 
 And be the friend with whom we now re- 
 gale, 
 A kind approver of- my hasty tale ; 
 Mayiie thus act, and ever thus be crown'd, 
 Unrtil his years have run J;heir posting round : 
 When they are ended, and he takes his leave 
 Of all the .blessings heaven below doth give. 
 May he, in better worlds, be ever bless'd. 
 And, labor ended, share eternal rest ! 
 
 Joseph Pkoud. 
 
 July 6, 1778, 
 
 Lady in the Stkaw. 
 This expression is derived from beds 
 having been anciently stuffed with straw, 
 and signifies " the lady in bed." 
 Bedstraw. 
 In old herbals, and among country 
 people, mention is made of a plant called 
 " tlieladies bed-strsTw. Gerard describes 
 and figures, "yellow ladies bed-straw," 
 and " ladies bed-straw with white flowers," 
 besides another withred flowers; the two 
 -latter being used as ' cheese-renaing," or 
 rennet, having the vrtue of turning milk 
 to che.ese. He says, the second is " like 
 unto cleavers, or goose-grass, yet nothing 
 rough, but smooth and soft, — the whole 
 plant rampeth upon bushes, otherwise it 
 cannot stand." 
 
 h. TO, 
 
 July 12. Sun rises . . . . 3 53 
 — sets ..,,87 
 
 Pyramidal mullein ~i , • 
 
 Marsh Southistle S flower. 
 
 Tulip-tree > 
 
 Currants of all sorts, raspberries, goose- 
 berries, and most cherries, are now ripe 
 and in full season. 
 
815 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 12. 
 
 81& 
 
 MICHAEL PARKER. 
 
 A few columns are devoted to a brief 
 memoir of a person of mean parentage, 
 but no mean virtues, who during nearly 
 half a century was the grave digger of 
 the parish of Malton, in Yorkshire, and 
 who in that space of time buried above 
 five thousand of its inhabitants. 
 
 Michael Parker was born in 1758, in 
 the town of Malton, of poor parents. His 
 earlier years were spent in lounging about 
 the streets, or strolling in the fields with 
 boys of his own age, joining in their 
 rustic games, or predatory freaks. In 
 later years, like many wiser heads, he 
 looked back on these days with pleasure ; 
 and dwelt with apparent interest on cer- 
 tain adventures, when the codlings on a 
 neighbour's tree tempted to what was 
 then thought a venial sin, and the rightful 
 ■voice of the owner scared him away. 
 
 Michael never had even the first rudi- 
 ments of education. No ancient dame, 
 
 Who boasts, unruly biats, with birch to tame, 
 
 had the guardianship of his morals, or 
 taught him to con his alphabet. ■ When 
 he was old enough to labor he was taken 
 to the wharfs, and was principally engaged 
 in the carrying, of coals. He was dili- 
 gent, and as he approached the " bloom 
 of lustihood" looked out for a helpmate 
 through life. Whether a man can keep a 
 wife or not, there are no laws against 
 taking one; and the parish is- bound to 
 keep him and his progeny, if he can- 
 not keep himself. But Michael had no 
 degrading selfishness; he cherished in- 
 dependence to his latest days ; the name 
 of poor-house he could not endure, and 
 felt as great an antipathy towards closing. 
 
817 
 
 THE YEAR BOQK.— JULY 12. 
 
 818 
 
 his life iu such a place, as he would have 
 felt towards the man who dared to ques- 
 tion his love of labor. At eighteen he 
 married, and had several children, only 
 one of which survived to his paternal 
 care. After Michael became a father, no 
 public-house sign could tempt him to 
 spend his time and money in waste and 
 wassail. He loved company and a glass 
 of " amber stout," but he loved his home, 
 and wife and children, better. While 
 many a harum-scarum acquaintance was 
 quaffing and singing in a pot-house, 
 Michael was taking his ease in his own 
 humble dwelling. There he had plea- 
 sures not to be found elsewhere ; and if 
 be sometimes spent his last shilling it was 
 iu procuring comforts or necessaries for 
 his family. 
 
 Michael's dress was suited to his em- 
 ployment — a large slouching broad brim- 
 med hat served as a screen to his neck 
 from coal-dust, and protected his face 
 fro.m the sun's rays. He wore a fustian 
 jacket, with large hoUand pockets ; an 
 ample pair of corduroys hung loosely , 
 from his ,hips; his colored worsted 
 stockings generally looked the worse for 
 wear, but "were always well darned by the 
 notable hands of his industrious wife, and, 
 though the darning might not exactly 
 match the original color, it mattered not, 
 for no holes were visible ; his large roomy 
 shoes, made for service rather than 
 show, were tied with hempen string ; his 
 shqulders were clothed with a wide-spread 
 sack ; and, unless he bore it full, he car- 
 ried a stout, well tarred coal-poke beneath 
 his arm. Thus accoutred, he was accus- 
 tomed to pace the streets with slow and 
 solemn steps, and with a look that bespoke 
 contentment of mind. If, as Lord Ches- 
 terfield said, "a gentleman is always 
 known by his gcdt — it must not be hurried, 
 or too quick,": Michael Parker was, in this 
 respect, a gentleman. It may be objected 
 that he had a straddling walk, and squared 
 his path too much, biit he walked vith the 
 independence of Nature's child. It not 
 unfrequently happened, that some loiter- 
 ing urchin cracked a rude joke upon him 
 as he pursued his even course ; and then 
 Michael would gravely turn round, with 
 his left hand upon his side, and assuming 
 more than usual importance, rebuke the 
 youthful sally, express astonishment that 
 the boy was not better taught, and, if the 
 offence was flagrant, threaten flagella- 
 tion. It was only for the. sake of peace, 
 or to. awe the meddlesome, that he held 
 
 such language ; for he never dealt blows 
 Vulgar flouts from the adult were often 
 
 Eassed upon Michael, for the sake of 
 earing him talk. He had a stammering, 
 hesitating tone, with a peculiar lisp in 
 certain words, which was often very 
 amusing to his auditors. 
 
 For many years Michael appeared 
 happy with his lot in life, and satisfied 
 with the little he knew ; but after he was 
 advanced to the honorable post of grave- 
 digger to the parish of Malton, an office 
 of real employment, which he held in 
 addition to his business of carrying coals, 
 he manifested greater enthusiasm for it 
 than seemed to belong to his character. 
 Nothing afforded him more satisfaction 
 than the forming of a grave ; and he was 
 accustomed to pay frequent and pro- 
 longed visits to the abodes of death. 
 The avocation awakened in him a new 
 and unsuspected disposition to inquiry. 
 The curious conformation of a bone, the 
 cranium, which had been the seat of life 
 and intellect, the -silent progress of decay 
 in the last remains of mortality, engaged 
 him in frequent speculation. A chamber 
 in his cottage, which contained a strange 
 exhibition of assorted bones, and a. con- 
 stant propensity to increase his collections, 
 exposed him to the suspicion and dis- 
 pleasure of his neighbours ; yet nothing 
 abated his love for the relics of the dead, 
 or his pleasure in burying the defunct. 
 He was often seen in a grave, pausing from 
 his labor, leaning on his spade, indulg- 
 ing in reverie over some newly turned up 
 remnant of " decayed intelligence," and 
 then, awaking as from a trance, ply- 
 ing his task afresh till it was done; A 
 gentleman once said to him, ." Well 
 Michael, you like the exercise of making 
 graves, would you like to bury me V 
 After a moment's pause, and a shrewd 
 cast of the eye, Michael answered, " Well 
 Sir! you must be buried — and I would 
 make you as good a grave as any body ;" 
 and then with his spade he . traced upon 
 the ground the exact figure of a coffin ; 
 adding, in his native dialect, " Dere, 
 dat's de shap, but I — I — could mak a 
 better den dat." He sometimes com- 
 plained of the badness of trade ; and that 
 he had not any graves to dig. 
 
 Michael plodded on — ^hawking coals, 
 and digging graves, witnessing the cares 
 and griefs of others, and having none of 
 his own, till he lost his wife. To the un- 
 feigned sorrow he felt and manifested on 
 that occasion, may probably be added 
 
819 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 12. 
 
 820 
 
 some concern that deconim forbade Jilm 
 from digging her grave. He deeply 
 mourned for his worthy helpmate. Mi- 
 chael was not a metaphysician, and there- 
 fore he had a heart ; he was not a genius, 
 and yet his heart had feelings. He had 
 been a tender husband, and his tender- 
 ness now centered in his motherless child. 
 His home had lost its great attraction ; it 
 was in a measure desolate, and his little 
 son was his sole'and constant companion. 
 Michael was scarcely ever seen in the 
 streets without his child trudging after 
 him. While perspiring beneath a load of 
 coals, Michael would turn round, to call 
 — " johnny, cum my lad, cum alang 
 Johnny'' — and perhaps before he had 
 advanced a hundred yards, turn round 
 again, and repeat, " Johntiy, cum my lad, 
 cum alang Johnny. His intense fondness 
 for his little boy was so well known, that 
 many mischievous people would pretend 
 to kidnap the child, and, catching him up, 
 forcibly bear him away to some distance, 
 while poor Michael, over-sensitive to 
 danger, lustily raised a hue and cry, and 
 rushed to the rescue. 
 
 Michael, after tasting the blessings of 
 domestic life, bitterly felt the loneliness 
 of a lone man. He had been accustomed 
 on coming from a hard day's labor to find 
 a clean hearth, a table neatly spread with 
 plain wholesome cheer, and the honest 
 smiles of his Johnny's mother. With the 
 hope of similar happiness he married again. 
 This second union was not equal to his 
 first. His new wife was worthless, and one 
 <lay,afti?r sackirig the drawers of the clothes 
 which had been worn by her predecessor, 
 she eloped. Michael had little reason 
 for regret ; yet he was a fond creature, 
 and sometimes appeared to grieve. On 
 these occasions, Johnny often soothed him 
 by saying, " she has not taken the bread- 
 loaf vvith her; no, she has not taken that." 
 Michael's greatest trial befel him after 
 this. His boy, at eighteen years of age, 
 began to decline in health ; and in a few 
 months died. This blow to Michael was 
 irretrievable, but he bore it like a chris- 
 tian man : no murmur escaped his lips — 
 he bowed submissively to the Power that 
 had removed his greatest, his last, earthly 
 joy. He raised a gentle hillock over the 
 remains of his son, decked it with flowers, 
 which he nurtured with peculiar care ; and 
 planted by the grave a small tree, whose 
 boughs increased in after years, and cast 
 solemn shadows around. This tree, in 
 despite of poor Michael's feelings, was 
 subsequently removed. 
 
 Michael had now nothing human that 
 belonged to him to love. He retired to 
 his cottage, land entirely secluded himself 
 He was always discomposed by intrusive 
 curiosity, which his frigid welcome to 
 visitors manifested. Society had no charms 
 for him, and he shunned it. Yet his na- 
 ture was all benevolent, and his " heart 
 wanted something to be kind to.'' The 
 solitude of his home afforded him an ob- 
 ject, — this was his poor cat : he fondled 
 it, and the poor creature purred, and 
 stretched herself upon his knee, and 
 cheered him with her gambols. To her 
 he added a dog, and then a leveret, and 
 turtle-dove. Puss's progeny were pre- 
 served by Michael, and, at one time, six- 
 teen cats were inmates of Michael's home, 
 and shared his porringer of milk. When 
 impelled by hunger, which they occasion- 
 ally felt, these creatures paid marauding 
 visits to the neighbourhood, until com- 
 plaints occasioned some of the parochial 
 authorities to pay Michael a visit, and 
 forcibly dislodge his feline friends. 
 
 Some years after the elopement of Mi- 
 chael's wife, he was gravely assured by a 
 person in the street that she was dead. 
 Upon this intelligence he hastened home, 
 put off his working dress, and, as soon as 
 he could, reappeared in " proper mourn- 
 ing." The rector of Malton, better in- 
 formed than Michael, proved to him that 
 she was living ; and the " decent crape," 
 and other insignia of sonow, were as 
 quickly and becomingly put off as they 
 had been put on. 
 
 Michael had a sort of taste for the fine 
 arts. He collected any thing that assumed 
 the appearance of a picture or print, not 
 exceeding the price of sixpence ; and en- 
 gravings and drawings, suitable to his 
 style of collecting, were frequently pre- 
 sented to him. He likewise practised 
 drawing, and made a certain progress 
 in design. On being once asked what he 
 had lately done, in that way, he replied, 
 he had been making " a landscape ;" upon 
 inquiring the subject, he said, " a cat 
 upon a wall." He was a great admirer 
 of sign-boards, and particularly of those 
 belonging to the inns; the •" Bull and 
 Dog" was one that he frequently mention- 
 ed with praise. A pasteboard figure, 
 resembling any droll object, or a colored 
 print, he regarded as a treasure. 
 
 Michael was not an inquirer concerning 
 disputed' points of theology; he had been 
 trained in his childhood, by his father, to 
 go to church, and was a staunch church- 
 
821 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 12. 
 
 822 
 
 man : an anecdote will verify this. One 
 Sunday some wanton persons, lounging 
 about the doors of a respectable dissenting 
 meeting-house, in Malton, to observe who 
 entered, saw Michael advancing along the 
 street with his accustomed deliberate step, 
 in his best clothes, his face clean washed 
 and shaved, going to the parish church : 
 •they instantly determined that he should, 
 for once, be compelled to go to the meet- 
 ing-house. When he approached them, he 
 was forced to the door, while he vocifer- 
 ated -" Murder ! murder!" till a desperate 
 struggle enabled him to escape from his 
 persecutors, and gain the place in which 
 he cculd worship according to his con- 
 science. 
 
 As he became old, he sometimes, under 
 .provocation, gave utterance to rough ex- 
 pressions, foreign to his kindly disposition. 
 More than once, he was heard to say to 
 his wanton persecutors, that " he should 
 have them some day, and he would, cer- 
 tainly, bury them with their faces down- 
 ward." Versed in the superstitions of 
 the vulgar, he regularly observed the 
 periodical return of St. Mark's eve, when 
 it is supposed the " shades" of those who 
 are to die in the coming year are visible 
 in the church. To one of his abusers he 
 said that he had seen him on St. Mark's 
 «ve, and should have him soon. Observa- 
 tions of this nature obtained him enemies, 
 and expressions of real sorro>y which he 
 often manifested on the indisposition of 
 his neighbours, were sometimes regarded 
 as insincere, and his approach to the 
 dwellings of the afflicted forbidden. He 
 felt indignant on being thus uncivilly 
 .treated because he dug graves. When 
 -the time approached that the office he 
 had performed for many, should be per- 
 formed for him, he and a friend engaged 
 that the survivor should form the other's 
 grave. 
 
 The interior of Michael's cottage was 
 amusing and gratifying. He suffered no 
 week to pass without a thorough renova- 
 ition of his furniture. On that occasion 
 ihe antique chairs and tables were regu- 
 larly rubbed with oil, which, in length of 
 time, gave them an ebon hue, and [the 
 walls and floor were whitened in places 
 where the most lively contrast would be 
 formed with the furniture. The ancestral 
 elbow chair, thickly incrusted with the 
 weekly addition of oil, retained its ancient 
 .nook. Around the apartment, at measured 
 distances, were his things called pictures, 
 jyhich he designed for ornament. Pots, 
 
 pans, brushes, and unsightly objects, were 
 stowed away in a snug comer ; but his 
 stock of delf and crockery-ware, reduced 
 through lapse of years and service, was 
 duly ranged in order, in a conspicuous 
 part. When at his meals, seated near the 
 fire-place, in his ancient chair, before a 
 small table, with a copious bowl of por- 
 ridge, the door bolted or locked against 
 intruders, his cats mewing about him, 
 the grim pictures on the walls all telling 
 some history, interesting to him alone, 
 Michael was a study for an artist and a 
 philosophizer on human life. In the 
 upper room, which had been the depo- 
 sitory of his museum, and which served 
 latterly as a dormitory and wardrobe, he 
 drew his first breath, — and yielded up his 
 last. 
 
 In the latter part[of life Michael derived 
 some small emolument from selling apple- 
 scoops, in the manufacture of which he 
 was a great proficient. Some friends 
 furnished him with materials, and many 
 well-wishers were purchasers of his handy- 
 works. He felt the chill of penury in de- 
 clining age. The limes had changed ; 
 the increase of population in Malton had 
 divided its trade, whilst its aggregate 
 returns were less than those of former 
 years; and Michael, no longer able to 
 trudge to the adjoining vill^es with his 
 sack of coals, was opposed by a woman 
 in the town, of obstreperous tongue, and 
 masculine habits, who drove a cart of 
 coals at a price so low, that the poor fel- 
 low could not' cope with her. He had 
 neither a team, nor means to purchase one, 
 and his little trade dwindled to nothing. 
 Until he became thus helpless, and afflict- 
 ed with rheumatism, he had stood aloof 
 from every appearance of alms-taking ; 
 but his spirits bowed with his years, and, 
 for his daily morsel of bread, he submit- 
 ted to something like begging. The man- 
 ner in which he made known his wants 
 was peculiar. He generally began by an 
 enquiry after the health of the individual 
 he applied to, and hesitatingly proceeded 
 to observe that trade was very bad, and 
 that he had not, for a long time, had any 
 thing to do: if he observed no yielding, 
 he made a more immediate appeal, by 
 stating that he was an invalid, and unable 
 to work. He interjected these remarks 
 with observations on the state of the wea- 
 ther, or bits of news. Direct solicitation 
 for relief he scarcely, if ever, made. 
 There were a few benevolent families in 
 Malton, whose dole was certain upon such 
 
823 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 12. 
 
 824 
 
 occasions; for he had become an object of 
 real pity, and" must have wanted necessa- 
 ries, without their assistance. Latterly, 
 he occasionally received small pittances 
 from the parish. The officers desired to 
 remove him into the workhouse ; the 
 proposition was fearfully repugnant to his 
 feelings ; he earnestly implored that he 
 might not be torn from the cottage in 
 which he had been born, and passed all 
 his days ; and so piteous were his terror 
 and intreaties, that he was suffered to end 
 his days beneath the humble roof of his 
 honest forefathers. 
 
 In March, 1823, as Michael had be- 
 come incapable of all labor, an appli- 
 cation was made to him for the loan 
 of his churchyard spade ; this he refused, 
 but at length surrendered it, saying, 
 " Why den ye mun tak it; ah sail be 
 better agean next time dere is a grave to 
 dig." He grew weaker and weaker, and 
 never dug another. Being asked where 
 he thought he should go after death ; he 
 answered, " Where God shall be pleased 
 to take me." On the Sth of April he 
 died. He had given a few directions 
 concerning his funeral, which were punc- 
 tually observed. A " wake" was held in 
 the hou^e, at which several gentlemen 
 attended ; it was an old custom, which 
 he esteemed, and begged might not be 
 omitted. A favorite hymn which he was 
 accustomed to sing to himself as he walk- 
 ed along the streets, was also, by his 
 request, sung in the church. Several 
 persons joined in assisting to form his 
 grave ; and the concourse of people that 
 attended his funeral was considerably 
 greater than is seen on ordinary occasions. 
 As the funeral procession moved along 
 the streets, many voices repeated, " poor 
 Michael," "poor fellow." 
 
 Death Watch. 
 
 Wallis, in his History of Northumber- 
 land, vol. i. p. 367, gives the following 
 account of the insect so called, whose 
 ticking has been thought by ancient super- 
 stition to forbode death in a family. 
 " The small scarab called the death-watch, 
 (Scarabseus galeatus pulsator,) is frequent 
 among dust, and in decayed rotten wood, 
 lonely and retired. It is one of the 
 smallest of the Vagipennia, of a dark 
 brown, with irregular light brown spots, 
 the belly plicated, and the wings under 
 the cases pellucid ; like other beetles, the 
 
 helmet turned up, as is supposed for hear- 
 ing; the upper lip hard and shining. By 
 its regular pulsations, like the ticking of 
 a watch, it sometimes surprizes those that 
 are strangers to its nature and properties, 
 who fancy its beating portends a family 
 change, and the shortening of the thread 
 of life. Put into a box, it may be heard 
 and seen in the act of pulsation, with a 
 small proboscis against the side of it, for 
 food more probably than for hymenseal 
 pleasure as some have fancied." 
 
 This rational account will not be ill 
 contrasted with the following witty one 
 by Swift, which contains an effectual 
 charm against the omen : — 
 
 - A wood worm, 
 
 That lies in old wood, like a hare in her form. 
 With teeth or with claws, it will bite or will 
 
 scratchy 
 And chambermaids christen this worm a death 
 
 watch : 
 Because like a watch it always cries click : 
 Then woe be to those in the house who are 
 
 sick ; 
 For as sure as a gun they will give up the 
 
 ghost. 
 If the maggot cries click, when it scratches 
 
 the post. 
 But a kettle of scalding hot water injected, 
 Infallibly cures the timber affected : 
 The omen is broken, the danger is over. 
 The maggot will die, and the sick will recover. 
 
 Baxter, in his " World of Spirits," sen- 
 sibly observes, that " there are many 
 things that ignorance causeth multitudes 
 to take for prodigies. I have had many 
 discreet friends that have been affrighted 
 with the noise called a death-watch, 
 whereas I have since, near three years 
 ago, oft found by trial, that it is a noise 
 made upon paper, by a little nimble run- 
 ning worm. It is most usually behind a 
 paper pasted to a wall, especially to wain- 
 scot ; and it is rarely, if ever heard, but 
 in the heat of summer.* 
 
 Epitaph. 
 
 In Calstack Churchyard, Cornwall. 
 
 'Twas by a fall I caught my death; 
 No man can tell his time or breath ; 
 I might have died as soon as then 
 If I_had had physician men. 
 
 * Brand. 
 
825 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 13. 
 
 826 
 
 Uttlj) 13. 
 
 Bishop Thomas. 
 
 July 13, 1752. Under this date in the 
 MS. " Observationes Medicae " of Mr. J. 
 Jones, is a memorandum to this purport : 
 Dr. John Thomas, who died bishop of 
 Salisbury in 1766, being at Copenhagen, 
 and there consulting an eminent phy- 
 sician, nearly ninety years of age, con- 
 cerning the best method of preserving 
 health, had this rule given him (amongst 
 seven other rules), viz. " Last of all," 
 said the old physician, " Fage omnesme- 
 dicos, atque omnimoda medicamenta." The 
 other rules related to temperance, exer- 
 cise, &e. — Quaere. Whether it mig^t not 
 have been somewhat apropos to have 
 told his lordship the following little story 
 presently after his own, viz. " A very old 
 man, nearly ninety years of age, being 
 asked what he had done to live so long, 
 answered. When I could sit, I never 
 stood ; I married late, was a widower 
 soon, and never married again." 
 
 This prelate married four times. The 
 motto, or poesy, on the wedding ring at 
 his fourth marriage, was, 
 
 If I survive, 
 
 I'll malie them five. 
 
 Bishop Thomas was a man of humor 
 and drollery. At a visitation he gave his 
 clergy an account of his being married 
 four times ; — " and," says he, cheerfully, 
 " should my present wife die, I will take 
 another; and it is my opinion I shall 
 survive her. Perhaps you don't know the 
 art of getting quit of your wives. I'll tell 
 you how I do. I am called a very good 
 husband ; and so I am ; for I never con- 
 tradict them. But don't you know that the 
 want of contradiction is fatal to women ? 
 If you contradict them, that circumstance 
 alone is exercise and health, et optima me- 
 dicamenta, to all women. But, give them 
 their own way, and they will languish and 
 pine, become gross and lethargic for want 
 of this exercise." He squinted much. 
 He was entertaining the company with a 
 humorous account of some man. In the 
 midst of his story he stopped short, and 
 said, " the fellow squiiited most hide- 
 ously;" and then, turning his ugly face 
 in all the squiiiting attitudes he could, till 
 the company were upon the full laugh, 
 he added, " and I hate your squinting 
 fellows." 
 
 This prelate .suddenly diffused a glow 
 of feeling over his auditory, when, at the 
 annual general meeting of charity children 
 at Christ Church, in Newgate Street, he 
 opened his mouth to preach, and with 
 great pathos read Matt, xviii. 14, ",It is 
 not the will of your Father who is in" 
 Heaven, that one of tiese little ones should 
 perish." 
 
 When this Bishop was chaplain to 
 the British factory at Hamburgh, a gen- 
 tlemen of the factory, being ill, was ordered 
 into the country for the benefit of the air; 
 accordingly he went to a village at about 
 ten miles distance, but after some time 
 died there : upon this, application was made 
 to the parson of the parish, for leave to bury 
 him in the church-yard; the parson inquired 
 what his religion was, and ' was told that 
 he was aCalvinist : " No," says he, " there 
 are none but Lutherans in my church- 
 yard, and there shall be no other." 
 "This," says Dr. Thomas, " was told me, 
 and I wondered that any man of any 
 learning or understanding should have 
 such ideas : I resolved to take my horse, 
 and go and argue the matter with him, 
 but found him inflexible ; at length I told 
 him he made me think of a circumstance 
 which once happened to myself, when I 
 was curate of a church in Thames Street. 
 I was burying a corpse, and a woman 
 came, and pulled me by the sleeve in the 
 midst of the service ^—' Sir, Sir, 1 want 
 to speak to you.' — ' Pr'ythee,' says I, 
 ""woman, wait till I have done.' — ' No, 
 Sir, I must speak to you immediately.' — 
 ''Why, then, what is the matter?' — 
 ' Why, Sir,' says she, ' you are burying 
 a man who died of the small pox, next 
 my poor husband, who never had it. ' 
 This story," said the bishop, " had the de- 
 sired effect, and the curate permitted the 
 bones of the poor Calvinist to be laid in 
 his churcK-yard."* 
 
 July 13. Sun rises 
 — sets 
 
 h. m. 
 3 54 
 8 6 
 
 Henbane flowers abundantly. 
 
 Young marigolds in full flower, and 
 continue to blow through the summer and 
 autumn. 
 
 Toadflax begins to flower in the pledges. 
 
 Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
827 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY IS. 
 
 828 
 
 Sleep. 
 
 Care-cKarming sleep, thou easer of all woes^ 
 Brother to death ; sweetly thyself dispose 
 On this afflicted prince ; fall, like a cloud. 
 In gentle showers ; give nothing that is loud 
 Or painful to his slumbers ; easy, sweet. 
 And, as a purling stream, thou son of night. 
 Pass by his tvoubled senses ; sing hia pain. 
 Like hollow murmuring wind, ot silver raine. 
 Into this prince, gently, oh ! gently slide. 
 And kiss him into slumbers like a bride. 
 
 Beaumont and Fletcher's Yalentiman. 
 
 . h, m. 
 
 July 14. Sun rises 
 
 — sets 
 Field thistle 
 Marsh thistle 
 Harvest bells 
 Philadelphian lily 
 
 3 55 
 8 5 
 
 > flower. 
 
 SfulB 15. 
 
 St. Swithin's Day. 
 
 Of this saint and his attributes, there 
 are accounts in the Every Day Book. 
 
 On the 15th of July, 1751, died, aged 
 fifty-five, John Wilson, author of the " Sy- 
 nopsis of British Plants," and the first 
 writer that attempted a systematic ar- 
 rangement of our indigenous plants in the 
 English language. He was born in 
 Longsleddal,l near Kendal, in Westmor- 
 land, and became a shoemaker in the ca- 
 pacity of a journeyman, which occupation 
 he exchanged for the more lucrative em- 
 ployment of a baker, soon enough to 
 afford his family the common conveniences 
 of life. He ranks among the self-elevated 
 men who without a liberal education dis- 
 tinguished themselves by scientific and li- 
 terary abilities. When he studied botany, 
 the knowledge of system was not lo be 
 obtained from English books, and Ray's 
 botanical writings, of whose method he 
 was a perfect master, were all in Latin ; 
 and yet Wilson became an expert and ac- 
 curate botanist, before Linnaeus's method 
 of discriminating species improved the 
 science. His business of a baker was prin- 
 cipally managed by his wife. A severe 
 asthma, which prevented him from pursu- 
 ing his trade as a shoemaker, assisted 
 him to cultivate his favorite science. He 
 amused the lingering hours of sickness 
 with frequent excursions, and explored 
 the marshes and hills of his native county, 
 often accompanied by lovers of botany and 
 
 the scenes of nature. He expressed himself 
 with unreserved freedom, and many of his 
 sententious remarks will be long reinem- 
 bered. Being once in the county of Dur- 
 ham, he was introduced to a person who 
 cultivated rave plants for his pleasure, and 
 who, judging of Wilson's abilities by his 
 humble appearance, challenged him to a 
 trial of skill. In the course of it he 
 treatedWilson, of whose knowledge he had 
 heard, with much disrespect. Wilson per- 
 ceived this, and after naming most of the 
 rarities contained in the garden, and re- 
 ferring to authors' who describe them, he 
 plucked a wild herb, ft-om a neglected 
 spot, and presented it to his opponent, - 
 who endeavoured to get clear; of the diffi- 
 culty by pronouncing it a weed ; Wilson 
 immediately replied, a we(jd is a term of 
 art, not a production of nature. He added 
 that the explanation proved his anta- 
 gonist to be a gardener, not a botanist,and 
 tlie contest ended. 
 
 The hospitality of several persons of 
 taste and fortune enabled Wilson to pro- 
 secute his researches on an economical 
 plan suited to his condition. Mr. Isaac 
 Thompson, an eminent land-surveyor, re- 
 sident at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, was hi» 
 steadiest patron, and warmest encourager. 
 Wilson frequently accompanied this gen- 
 tleman, when travelling in the line of his 
 profession, under the character of an as- 
 sistant, which left him at full libei:ty lo 
 examine the plants of the different place* 
 they visited. His " Synopsis " was pub- 
 lished in the year 1744 ; it comprehends 
 that part of Ray's method which treats of 
 the more perfect herbs, beginning at the 
 fourth genus, or class ; and ending with 
 the twenty-sixth. He promised, in the 
 preface, to complete the performance at a 
 future period ; but did not live to finish a 
 second volume, which was intended to 
 contain the fungi, mosses, grasses, and 
 trees. The last three or four years of his 
 life were passed in a state of debility that 
 rendered him unfit for application. The 
 writings of Linnaeus became popular in 
 England shortly after Wilson's death, or 
 his attainments and character would have 
 become better known and estimated.* 
 
 h. m. 
 July IS. Sun rises . . . - 3 Sff 
 — sets .... 8 4 
 Water plantain flowers by ditches and 
 rivers. 
 
 * Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
829 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 16. 
 
 830 
 
 lUttlH 16. 
 
 The Bottle Cokjureb. 
 Mn. Hone, 
 
 . To lender complete your account of 
 this celebrated hoax, you should inseit 
 the subjoined bantering apology for the 
 impostet's non-appearance, which was 
 published in the newspapers a day or two 
 after the transaction : — 
 
 " Whereas various stories have been 
 told the public about the man and the 
 bottle, the following account seems to be 
 the best as yet given of that odd affair : viz; 
 A gentleman went to him the evening he 
 was to perform in the Haymarket, and 
 asked him what he must have to perform, 
 to him in private. He said £5, on which 
 they agreed, and the conjurer getting ready 
 to go into the bottle, which was set on a 
 table, the gentleman, having provided a 
 parcel of corks, fitted one to the bottle ; 
 then the conjurer, having darkened the 
 room as much as was necessary, at last, 
 with much squeezing got into the bottle, 
 which in a moment the gentleman corked 
 up, and vyhipt into his pocket, and in 
 great haste and seeming confusion went 
 out ef the house, telling the servants, who 
 waited at the door, that their master had 
 bewitched him, and bid them go in and 
 take care of him. Thus the poor man_ 
 being bit himself, in being confined in 
 the bottle, and in a gentleman's pocket, 
 could not be in another place; for he 
 never advertised he would go into two 
 bottles at one and the same time. He is 
 still in the gentleman's custody, who un- 
 corks him now and then to feed him, and 
 to let in some fresh air to him; but his 
 long confinement has so dampt his spirits, 
 that instead of singing and dancing, he is 
 perpetually crying, and cursing his ill- 
 fate. But though the town has been 
 disappointed of seeing him go into the 
 bottle, they will have the pleasure in a 
 few days of seeing him come out of it, 
 of which timely notice will be given in 
 the daily papers." 
 
 Another paragraph of the same kind 
 excused the performer upon this score, — 
 that he had undertaken to go into a tavern 
 quart bottle ; yet, after diligent enquiry at 
 all the taverns in London, he had been 
 unable to meet with any " quart bottle" 
 that would hold more than a pint. 
 
 In the " Scot's Magazine for Jan. 1749," 
 I find this joke versified as follows : — 
 
 " On the Haymarket Conjurer. 
 Crowds fill the house before the hour of six. 
 To see this wond'rous artist show his tricks ; 
 
 Some laugh, to find their foolisn hopes de- 
 feated ; 
 And others swear, to be so bilk'd and cheated , 
 Yet still will he expertly act his part. 
 Find him one tavern bottle kolda a quarr. 
 
 The interest excited by the affair is 
 proved by the numerous pleasantries of 
 this kind which for some time after con- 
 tinued to appear in the Magazines and 
 Newspapers, but, as they display little 
 variety, I refrain from transcribing more, 
 preferring to close ray notice of this hoax- 
 ing subject with an account of : a stilt 
 more audacious imposture, taken from 
 the "Cheltenham Journal of January 17, 
 1825." In a village near that town a 
 fellow hired an apartment at the principal 
 tavern, and circulated bills throughout the 
 place, of which a copy is annexed. 
 
 "for one night onlv. 
 
 " Felix Downjtimpthroatum, the emperor 
 of all the conjurors, begs leave to an- 
 nounce to the nobility, gentry, and in- 
 habitants, that he has just arrived with 
 five Arabian Conjurers, which he intends- 
 to exhibit for this night only. Any at- 
 tempt to describe their extraordinary per- 
 formances must be needless, as the pro- 
 prietor flatters himself that they must be 
 seen to be believed. They are all brothers 
 by the same father : their names, Muley, 
 Benassar, Abdullah, Mustaphv, and Suckee. 
 At the conclusion of their never yet 
 equalled feats of sleight of hand, leger- 
 demain, &c., &c., they will take each a 
 lighted torch in either hand, when lo ! 
 incredible to relate ! Suckee, with the 
 biirning torches, will jump clean down 
 Mustapha's throat, who in an instant, with 
 equal dexterity, will pass down the. throat 
 of Abdullah, then Abdallah will jump 
 down that of Benassar, and Benassar 
 down his brother Muley' s ; who, lastly, 
 notwithstanding he is encumbered witli 
 his four brothers and their four torches, 
 will throw a flip-flap-somerset down- his 
 own throat, and leave the audience, in 
 total darkness ! — Probatum est." 
 
 The promised wonders drew crowds of 
 rustics to gape at them, and the room was 
 literally crammed ; but, five minutes 
 before the time fixed for commencing, the 
 conjuror decamped with the money re- 
 ceived at the door, and was no more 
 heard of — probably he jumped down his 
 own throat. 
 
 J. B- — n. 
 
 Staffordshire Moorlands, 
 February 22, 1831. 
 
831 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 17. 
 
 832 
 
 h. m. 
 July 16. Sun rises . . . 3 ST 
 ~ sets ....83 
 , White sedum flowers on old walls. 
 
 liUlfi 17. 
 
 C.ouET Revelry, 1606. 
 On the 17th of July, 1606, Christian 
 IV., king of Denmark, arrived in England, 
 on a visit to James I. Sir John Haring- 
 ton, a courtier, describes some of the fes- 
 tivities : — " The sports began each day in 
 such manner and such sort, as well tiigh 
 persuaded me of Mahomet's paradise. We 
 had wotaen, and indeed wine too, in such 
 plenty as would have astonished every 
 sober beholder. Our feasts were magnifl^ 
 cent, and the two royal guests did most 
 lovingly embrace each other at table. I 
 think the Dane hath strangely wrought on 
 our good English nobles ; for those whom 
 I never could get to taste good liquor, now 
 follow the fashion, and wallow in beastly 
 delights. The ladies abandon their so- 
 briety, and are seen to roll about in intox- 
 cation." 
 
 Harington's account of a dramatic en- 
 tertainment, or masque, at a festival in 
 honor of the royal visitor, is exceedingly 
 descriptive.— After dinner the representa- 
 tion of Solomon's Temple, and the coming 
 of the Queen of Sheba was made, or 
 meant to have been made, by desire of the 
 earl of Salisbury and others. But, alas ! 
 as all earthly things fail to poor mortals in 
 enjoyment, so proved this. The lady who 
 played the queen's part, carried precious 
 gifts to both their majesties; but, forgetting 
 the steps arising to the canopy, overset her 
 caskets into his Danish majesty's lap, and 
 fell at his feet, or, rather, into his face. 
 Much hurry and confusion ensued, and 
 cloths and napkins made all clean. His 
 majesty then got up and would dance with 
 the Queen of Sheba ; but he fell down and 
 humbled himself before her, and was car- 
 ried to an inner chamber, and laid in 
 a bed of state, which was not a little de- 
 filed with the presents which had been be- 
 stowed on his garments; such as wine, 
 cream, jelly, cakes, spices, and other good 
 matters. "The entertainment and show 
 went forward, and most o,f the presenters 
 went backwards, or fell down, wine so oc- 
 cupied their upper chambers. Then ap- 
 peared, in rich dresses, Hope, Faith, and 
 Charity. Hope tried to speak, but wine 
 so enfeebled her endeavours, that she with- 
 drew, and hoped the king would excuse 
 
 her brevity. Faith fpUowed her frotn the 
 royal presence in a staggering condition. 
 Charity came to the king's feet, and seeming 
 desirous to cover the sins of her sisters, 
 made a sort of obeisance ; she brought 
 gifts, but said she would return home 
 again, as there was no gift which heaven 
 had not already given his majesty : she 
 then returned to Hope and Faith, who were 
 both sick in the lower hall. Next came 
 Victory in bright armour, and presented a 
 rich sword to the king, who waved it 
 away ; but Victory persisted, in a strange 
 medley of versification, till, after much la- 
 mentable utterance, she was led away like 
 a captive, and laid to sleep on the outer 
 steps of the antichamber. Peace took 
 offence in endeavouring to get up to the 
 king, and wielded her olive branch in war- 
 like assault upon the heads of the atten- 
 dants. 
 
 These sensual diversions at the court of 
 James greatly scandalised old Harington, 
 who could not forbear comparing theifl 
 with the recreations in which he had as- 
 sisted at the court of Elizabeth. He says, 
 " I ne'er did see such lack of good order, 
 discretion, and sobriety, as I have now 
 done. The gunpowder fright is got out of 
 all our heads, and w*e are going on, here- 
 abouts, as if the devil was contriving every 
 man should blow up himself by wild riot, 
 excess, and devastation. The great ladies 
 do go well masked, and indeed it is the 
 only show of their modesty ; I do often 
 say that the Danes have again conquered 
 the Britons, for I see no man, or woman 
 either, that can now command himself or 
 herself." 
 
 , This Christian king of Denmark ap- 
 pears to have been an eminent sot. At a 
 banquet at Theobalds our James got so 
 drunk with him, that he was obliged to be 
 carried to bed. The same Danish mo- 
 narch gave an entertainment at Rheins- 
 burgh, where, after giving thirty-five toasts, 
 he was carried away in his chair ; and 
 most of the officers of his court were so 
 drunk that they could not rise till late the 
 next day.* 
 
 July 17 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 -r- sets .... 
 Prince's feather -j 
 Garden convolvolus > flower. 
 Love-lies-bleeding ) 
 
 * Nugae Antiquao, i. 348 
 
 h. m. 
 a 58 
 8 2 
 
833 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUU 17. 
 
 834 
 
 MORRIS DANCER AND MAID MARIAN. 
 From Mr. Toilet's Window. 
 
 In the celebrated ancient window at 
 the house of George Toilet, esq., at Bat- 
 ley, ill Staffordshire, there are tweire 
 panels of glass representing the May-pole 
 and eleven charapterg in the morris-dance ; 
 two of the latter are on this page, and two 
 others, the fool and the taborer, are giren 
 subsequently: the May-pole has been 
 already placed in this work, on May-day. 
 
 The morris dance, in which bells are 
 gingled, or staves or swords clashed, was 
 learned, says Dr. Johnson, by the Moors, 
 and was probably a kind of Pyrrhick, or 
 military dance. Blount says, " Morisco, 
 a Moor; also a dance, so called, wherein 
 there were usually five men, and a boy 
 dressed in a girl's habit,, whom they called 
 the Maid Marrian, or, peiiiaps, Morian, 
 from the Italian Morione, a head-piece, 
 because her head was wont to be gaily 
 
 Vol. I.— 27. 
 
 trimmed up. Common people call it a 
 morris-dance." 
 
 The monis-dance is presumed by Mr. 
 Peck to have been first brought to Eng- 
 land in the time of Edward III., when 
 John of Gaunt returned from Spain, where 
 he had been to assist Petro, king of Cas- 
 tile. He says, " This dance was usually 
 performed abroad by an equal number ot 
 young men, who danced in their shirts, 
 with ribands, and little bells about their 
 legs. . But here, in England, they have 
 always an odd person besides, being a 
 boy dressed in a girl's habit, whom they 
 call Maid Marian, an old favorite charac- 
 ter in the sport." The morris-dance be- 
 came introduced into the May-games, in 
 which there was formerly a king and queen 
 of the May : subsequently, it appears; 
 the king of tlfe May was disused, ancl 
 '2 E 
 
035 
 
 THE YEAH bOO&f^VDl 17. 
 
 836 
 
 Maid Marian was sole sovereign, or queen 
 of the May. 
 
 Mr. Douce observes, in a dissertation 
 on the ancient English morris dance, at 
 the end of his "Illustrations of Shakspeare, 
 and of Ancient Manners," that both En- 
 glish and foreign glossaries uniformly as- 
 cribe the origin of this dance to the 
 Moors ; although the genuine Moorish, or 
 Morisco dance, was, no doubt, very dif- 
 ferent from the European morris. Strutt 
 cites a passage from the play of " Variety, 
 1649," in which the Spanish morisco is 
 mentioned: and this, Mr. Douce adds, 
 not only shows the legitimacy of the term 
 morris; but that the real and uncorrupted 
 Moorish dance was to be found in Spain, 
 where it still continues to delight both 
 natives and foreigners under the name of 
 the Fandango. The Spanish morrice was 
 also danced at puppet-shows, by a person 
 habited like a Moor, with castagnets ; and 
 Junius .has informed us that the moi;rJ3 
 daij,cei:s usually blackenea their faces with 
 &oot, that they might the better pass for 
 Moors. Having noticed the corruption 
 of the " Pyrrhica St/ltatip" of the ancients, 
 and the vncorrupted morris dance, as prac- 
 tiseo in France about the begiiming of 
 the thirteenth century, Mr. Douce says, 
 " It has been supposed that the morris 
 dance was first brought into England in 
 the time of Edward III., wlien^Jphn of 
 Gaunt returned from Spain, but it is 
 much more probable that we had it from 
 our Gallic neighbours, or even from the 
 Flemings. Few if any vestiges of it can 
 be traced beyond the reign of Henry VII., 
 about which time, and particularly in that 
 of Heijry VIII., the churchwardens' ac- 
 counts in several parishes afford mate- 
 rials that throw ^l^lch light on the subject, 
 and show that the moiris dance made a 
 very considerable figure in the parochial 
 festivals. — We find also," Mr. Douce 
 continues, " that other festivals and cere- 
 monies had their morris ; as, hgVy, Thurs- 
 day; the Whitsun ales; the bride ales, 
 or weddings ;, and a, sort of play, or pa- 
 geant, called the lord of misrule. Sheriffs, 
 too, had their morris dance. — It is by no 
 means clear that, at any time, Robin Hood 
 and his compajiions were constituent cha- 
 racters in the morris." 
 
 Shalf spea5e makes mention of an English 
 whitsmi morrice dance, in the following 
 speech of the dauphin in Henry V. 
 " No, with no more, than if we heard that 
 
 England 
 Were busied with a whitsun morrice dauuce,"' 
 
 The following description of a morris 
 dance occurs in " Cobbe's Prophecies, 
 his Signes and Tokens, his Madrigalls, 
 Queslions and Answers, 1614." 
 
 It was my hap of late, by chance. 
 To meet a country morris dance. 
 When, cheefest of them all, the foole 
 
 Plaied with a ladle 
 
 When every younger shak't his bells — 
 And line maid Marian, with her smoile, 
 Shew'd how a rascal! plaid the roile : 
 But, when ihe hobby-horse did wihy. 
 Then all the wenches gave a tihy : 
 But when they gan to shake their boxe. 
 And not a goose could catch a foxe. 
 The piper then put up his pipes. 
 And all the woodcocks look't like snipes, &c. 
 
 In Cotgrave's " English Treasury of 
 Wit and Language, 1655," we read, — 
 
 How they become the morris, with whose 
 
 bells 
 They ring all in to Whitson ales, and swea 
 "Jfhrough twenty scarfs and napkins, till the 
 -hobby-hoi^e 
 Tire, and the maid Marian, resolv'd to jelly. 
 Be kept for spoon-meat. 
 
 In relating particulars concerning mor- 
 ris dancing,, reference must be had to a 
 circumstantiial' and mirthful tcact, printed 
 in 1609, entitled " Old Meg of Hers- 
 FORDSHiRF., for a Mayd Maeian, and 
 Hereford Towne for a Morris Daunce ; 
 or. Twelve Morris Dauncers in Here- 
 fordshire of twelve hundred years 
 old." 
 
 To proceed orderly, — after the title- 
 page Qomes. the following dedication.-™ 
 " To that renowned Ox-leach, Old Hall, 
 Tuborer of Herefordshire, and to his most 
 invincible, weather-beaten, Nutbrown e 
 Taber, being alreadie old and sound,, 
 threescore yeares and upward. — ^To thee 
 (old Hall), that for thy Age and Art 
 mightest liaue cured an Oxe that was. 
 eaten ab Saint Quintins, that for thy wai}- 
 like musicke mightest haue strucke up at 
 BuUen, when great Drummes wore broken 
 heades, thy little continuall Taber, had 
 beene enough to haue put spirit into all 
 the Sonldiers : Now Tweire-pipe that 
 famous Southren Taberer with the Cow- 
 leyan windpipe, who for whuling hath 
 beene famous through the Globe of the 
 world, did neuer gain such renowne and 
 credite by bis. pipe awl Taber-, as thou 
 (old Hall) by stidking up to these twelue 
 hundred yeares Moris-dauacers : Nor art 
 thou alone (sweet Hall) a most exquisite 
 Taber-man, but an excellent Oxe-leach, 
 
837 
 
 THE YEAR BOOft.— JtJLY 17 
 
 838 
 
 and canst pleasure thy neighbours. The 
 Denple of Herefordshire are beholding 
 to thee, thou giuest the men light hearts 
 by thy Pype, and the women light heeles 
 by thy Taber : O wondertul Pyper, O 
 admirable Taber-man, make use of t^y 
 v^orth, euen after death, that art so fa- 
 moilsly worthy in thy life, both for thy 
 age, skill, and thy viibruizedl^ber, wlio 
 these threescore yeares has kept — sound 
 and vncrackt — neither lost her first voyce, 
 or her fashion: once foir the Countryes 
 pleasure imitate that Bohemian Zisca, 
 who at his death gaue his Souldiers a 
 strict command, to flea his skin off, and 
 couer a Drum with it, that alive and 
 dead, he might sound like a teirror in the 
 eares of his enemies : so thou, sweete 
 Hereford Hall, bequeath in thy last will 
 thy Velom-spoited skin, to couer Tabors : 
 at the sound of which to set all the shires 
 a dauncing." 
 
 After this merry dedication, the account 
 begins thus jocundly ; — " The courts of 
 kings for stately measures : the city for 
 light heels, and nimble footing : the coun- 
 try for shuffling dances : western men 
 for gambols : Middlesex men for tricks 
 aboue groiind : Essex men for the hay : 
 Laiicashire foi: horiipipes : Wotoestershire 
 for bagpipes : biit Herefoirdshire for a 
 morris dance, puts down, not oiily all 
 Kent, but Very near (it' one had line enough 
 to measure it) three qiiarlers of Christen- 
 dom. Neuet had Saint Sepulchres a truer 
 ring of bells : neuer did any sitk-weauer 
 keep brauer time with the kiiocke of the 
 heel: neuer had the dauncing horse a better 
 tread of the toe : neuer could Beuerley 
 fair giue money to a more sound taborer, 
 nor euer had Kobin Hood a more deft 
 Mayd-Marian." 
 
 Thus much for the honor of Hereford- 
 shire. The preceding paragraphs afford 
 a specimen of the orthography, and the 
 succeeding extracts, duly abbreviated, or 
 with the spelling modernized, will give a 
 fair notion of this remarkable perform- 
 ance : — " Understand therefore — that in 
 the merriest month of the year, which last 
 did take his leave of us, and in that month, 
 as some report, lords went a Maying, — 
 the spring brought forth, just about that 
 time, a number of knights, esquires, and 
 gallants, of the best sort, from many 
 parts of the land, to meet at a horse-race 
 near Hereford, in Herefordshire. The 
 horses haviiig, for that year, run themselves 
 well nigh ot ouf breath, wagers of great 
 sums, according to the fashion of such 
 
 pastimes, being won and lost, and the 
 sports growing to the end, and shutting 
 up, some wit, riper ihSn the rest, fed the 
 stomachs of all men, then and there pre- 
 sent, with desire and expectation of a 
 more fresh and lively me.eting in the same 
 place, to be performed this year of 1609. 
 The ceremonies which their meeting was 
 to stand upon were these, that every man 
 should engage himself, under his hand, to 
 bring, this present year, to the place ap- 
 pointed, running horses for the race, cocks 
 of the game, to maintain battles, &^., with 
 good store of money, toflyupanddownbe- 
 tween those that were to lay wagers. He 
 that first gave fire to this sociable motion, 
 undertook to bring a hobby-horse to the 
 race, that should outrun all the nags which 
 were to come thither, and hold out in a 
 longer race." 
 
 . When the time arrived — " Expectation 
 did within few days make Hereford town 
 show like the best peopled city. Inus 
 were lodgings for lords : Baucis and Phi- 
 lemon's house (had it stood there) would 
 have been taken up for a knight. The 
 streets swarmed with people — storing and 
 joyfully welcoming whole bravies of gal- 
 lants, who came bravely flocking on horse- 
 back, like so many lusty adventurers. 
 Bath made her waters to boil up, and 
 swell like a spring-tide, with the overflow- 
 ing of her own tears, to see her dearest 
 guests leave her for the love of a horse- 
 race at Hereford, — the number of them 
 heing at least two or three hundred. 
 Amongst many of the better ranks, these 
 marched with the foremost ; — lord Her- 
 bert, of Kagland, sir Thomas Somerset, 
 Charles Somerset, count Arundel's two 
 sons, sir Edward Swift, sir Thomas Milde- 
 may, sir Robert Yaxley, sir Robert Carey, 
 sir John Philpjit, sir Ed. Lewes, sir 
 Francis Lacon, sir Janies Scudamore, sir 
 Thomas Cornwall, sir Robert Boderhara, 
 sir Thomas Russell, sir — Bascarvile, sir 
 Thomas Conisby, sir George Chute. — 
 These were but a small handful to those 
 rich heaps that there were gathered toge- 
 ther. But by these, that had the honor to 
 te the leaders, you may guess what num- 
 bers were the followers." 
 
 At the appointed day "there was as 
 much talking, and as much preparation, 
 for the hobby-horse promised the last year, 
 as about dietiing the fairest gelding this 
 year upon whose head the heaviest wagers 
 were laid. — ^To perform a race of greater 
 length, of greater labor, and yet in shorter 
 time, and by feeble, unexercised, and 
 
839 
 
 HE YEAR BOOK—JULY 19. 
 
 040 
 
 unapt creatures, that would be an honor 
 to him that undertook it, that would be to 
 Herefordshire a glory, albeit it might 
 seem an impossibility. — Age is nobody, 
 in trials of the body, when youth is in 
 place ; it gives the other the bucklers : it 
 stands and gives aim, and is content to 
 see youth act, while age sits but as a spec- 
 tator, because the one does but study and 
 play over the parts, which the other hath 
 discharged in this great and troublesome 
 theatre. It was therefore now plotted to 
 lay the scene in age, to have the old co- 
 medy presented, fathers to be the actors, 
 and beardless boys the spectators. So- 
 phocles, because he was accused of imbe- 
 cility and dotage, should rehearse his 
 CEdipus Coloneus, while the senate, and 
 his own wild-brain sons, stood by, and 
 were the audience ; and, to set out this 
 scene with mirth as well as with wonder, 
 the state of the whole act was put into a 
 morris-dance." 
 
 Now, then, to set forth these performers 
 and their show — as nearly as may be in 
 the language of the old narrator — 
 
 • The Morris and its officers. 
 
 Two musicians were appointed to strike 
 up, arid to give the alarm : the one of 
 them {Squire of Hereford) was a squire 
 born, arid all his soris squires in their 
 cradles. His instrument, a treble violin, 
 upon which he played any old lesson that 
 could be called for : the division he made 
 on the strings being more pleasing than 
 the diapason. " In skill he outshines 
 blind Moone, of London, and hath out- 
 played more fiddlers than now sneak up 
 and down into all the taverns there. They 
 may all call him their father, or, if you 
 reckon the years rightly which are scored 
 upon his head, the musicians grandsire, 
 for this tuneable squire is 108 years old." 
 Next .to him went old Harrie Rudge, the 
 laborer. " This was old Hall of Here- 
 ford ; the waits of three metropolitan cities 
 make not more music than he can with bis 
 jDipe and tabor, if, at least, his head be 
 hard-braced with nappie ale. This noble 
 old Hall, seeing that Apollo was both a 
 fidler and a quack-salver, being able to 
 cure diseases, as well as to harp upon one 
 string, would needs be free of two com- 
 panies as well (that is to say), the sweet 
 company of musicians, and that other, 
 which deals in salves and plasters; for 
 he both beats a tabor with good judgment, 
 and (with better) can help an ox if he find 
 himself ill at eate. The wood of this old 
 
 Hall's tabor should have been made a 
 pail to carry water in, at the beginning of 
 king Edward the sixth's reign : but HM, 
 being wise, because he was even then 
 reasonably well stricken in years, saved it 
 from going to the water, and converted it, 
 in those days, to a tabor. So that his 
 tabor hath made bachelors and lassei 
 dance round about the May pole threescore 
 summers, one after another in order, and 
 is yet not worm-eaten. And noble Hall 
 himself hath stood (like an oak) in all 
 storms, by the space of fourscore and 
 seventeen winters, and is not yet falling 
 to the ground." 
 
 Whifflers. — ^The marshals of the field 
 were four : these had no great stomach 
 to dance in the morris, but took upon 
 them the office of whifflers. 1. Tlio- 
 mas Price of Clodacke, a subsidy man, 
 and one upon whose cheeks age had 
 written 105 years. 2. Thomas Andros of 
 Begger Weston, a subsidy man ; for he 
 carried upon his back the weighty burden 
 of 108 years, and wpnt away with them 
 lightly. 3. William Edwards o{ Bodeohsm 
 (his name is in the king's bonk$ likewiitej, 
 and unto him had time also given the use of 
 108 years : and, besides the blessings of 
 so many years, the comfort of a young 
 wife, and, by that wife, a child of six 
 years old. 4. John Sanders of Wolford, 
 an ironworker; the hardness of which 
 labor carried him safely over the high hill 
 of old age, where she bestowed upon him 
 102 years. — ^These four whifflers, casting 
 up what all their days which they had spent 
 in the world could make, found that they 
 amounted to 423 years ; so that if the rest 
 of their dancing brother-hood had come 
 short of their account, and could not (every 
 man) make up one hundred years, these 
 offered were able to lend them three and 
 twenty years ; but the others had enough 
 of their own, and needed not to borrow 
 of any man. 
 
 See how the morris-dancers bestir their 
 legs. Lift up your eyes, leap up behind 
 their heads that stand before you, or else 
 get upon stalls, for I hear their bells, and 
 behold, here they come. — 
 
 1. Of twelve in the whole team, the 
 foreman was James Tomkins, of Lenger- 
 ren, a gentleman by birth, neither loved 
 of fortune, nor hated of Iier ; for he was 
 never so poor as to be pitied, nor ever so 
 rich as to be envied ; when fourscore and 
 eighteen years old he married a wife of 
 two and fifty years old ; « she brought him 
 a. child that is now eight years old (living). 
 
841 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY ir. 
 
 843 
 
 the Father himself having now the glass of 
 his life running to fill up the full number 
 of 106 yeares. 
 
 i. After him comes, lustily dancing, 
 John Willis, of Doimington, a bone- 
 setter, his dancing fit to his weight of 
 ninety-seven years. "His purpose in 
 being one of the Morris was both honest 
 and diaritable ; for he bestowed his person 
 upon them, with intent to be r^y at 
 hand if any dislocation should be wrought 
 upon any joynt in his old companions by 
 fetching lofty tricks — ^which by all means 
 possible they were sworn to avoid." 
 
 3. Room for little Dick PhUlips, of 
 Middleton — ^how nimbly he shakes his 
 heels ! \Vell danced old heart of oak ; 
 and yet, as little as he seems, his courage 
 is as big as the hobby-horses, frr the fruits 
 of his youth, gathered long agon, are not 
 yet withered. His eldest son is at this 
 present four score years of age, and his 
 s&cond son may now reckon three score ; 
 at our lady-day last he made up the years 
 of his life just 102. 
 
 4. Now fells into his right place (f il- 
 liam Waiton, of Marden, with 102 years 
 at his heels. " He was an old fisher ; and 
 of a clean man, an excellent fowler." 
 
 5. Here slips in William Mosse, who, 
 contrary to his name, had no moss at his 
 heels. He beat's the age of 106. 
 
 6. Now cast your eyes upon Thomas 
 Winney, of Holmer, an honest subsidy 
 man, dwelling close by the town. " He 
 dances with 100 years about him, where- 
 soever he goes, if the church yard and 
 cramp take him not.'' 
 
 7. But how like you John Lace, of 
 Madley, a tailor, and an excellent name 
 for it? " In his youth he was a hosier — 
 bom before the dissension between cloth 
 breeches and velvet breeches, he carries 
 four score and seventeen summers about 
 him, and <aine would borrow three years 
 of James Tomkins [the foreman] to make 
 him an hundred ; and James may very 
 well spare them, and yet leave three to- 
 ward the interest." 
 
 8. But what say you to John Careless ? 
 " You let him passe by you, and seem as 
 careless as he, a man of four score and 
 sixteen at Midsummer next, he hath been 
 a dweller in Homlacie three score years 
 and two, and known to he a tall man, till 
 now he begins to be crooked, but for a 
 body and a beard he becomes any Morris 
 in Christendom." 
 
 9. At the heels of hirA follows his fel- 
 low William Maio, of ^elton, an old 
 
 soldier, and now a lusty laborer and a tall 
 man. " Forty years since, being grief- 
 ously wounded, he carried his liver and 
 his lights home half a mile, and you may 
 still put your finger into them but for a 
 thin skin over them; and for all these 
 storms he arrives at four score and seven- 
 teen, and dances merrily." 
 
 10. But look you who comes — " John 
 Hunt, the Hobby-horse, wanting but 
 three of an hundred, 'twere time for him to 
 forget himself, and sing but O, nothing but 
 O, the habhy-horse is forgotten ; the Maid- 
 marian, following him, offers to lend him 
 seven years more, but if he would take 
 up ten in the hundred his company are 
 able to lend them." 
 
 11. But now give way for the Maid 
 Marian, old " Meg Gvodwin, the famous 
 wench of Erdistand, of whom Master 
 Weaver, of Burton, that was four score 
 and ten years old, was wont to say, she 
 was twenty years older than he, and he 
 died ten years since. This old Meg was 
 at Prince Arthur's death, at Ludlow, and 
 had her part in Ha^dole; she was three 
 score years (she saith) a maid, and twenty 
 years otherwise, that's what you will, and 
 since hath been thought fit to be a Maid* 
 marian — at the age of 120. 
 
 12. Welcome John Mando — he was 
 born at Cradly, a very good two hand 
 sword man, of the age of 100, on black 
 Monday last, and serves in place of Mor- 
 gan Deede, who climbs to that age within 
 four years, here present dwelling in the 
 town, but, he has a great desire to keep 
 his bed and be spared. 
 
 These eighteen persons, the fidler, the 
 laborer, the four whifflers, and the twelve 
 dancers in this morris, carried about them 
 1837 years. "And for a good wager it 
 were easy to find, in Herefordshire, four 
 hundred persons more, within three years 
 over or under an hundred years; yet the 
 shire is no way four and twenty miles 
 over." 
 
 For the fashion observed amongst the 
 musicians, and the habit of the dancers, 
 take a view of both. " The musicians 
 and the twelve dancers, had long coats of 
 the old fashion, high sleeves gathered at 
 the elbows, and hanging sleeves behind ; 
 the stuff, red buffin, striped with white, 
 girdles with white, stockings white, and 
 red roses to their shoes ; the one six, a. 
 white jews cap with a jewel, and a long 
 red feather ; the other, a scarlet jews cap, 
 with a jewel and a white feather; so the 
 hobby-horse, and so the maid-marian was 
 
Is43 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK — JV^X XT- 
 
 Si^ 
 
 attired in colours ; the whiiQers had long 
 staves, vrhite and red. — After the dance 
 was endedj, diverse courtiers (hat won 
 wagers at the race, took those colours and 
 wore them in their hats." 
 
 TIte Speech before the Moiris. 
 
 Ye servants of our mighty king. 
 That came from court one hundred mile 
 To see our race, and sport this spring ; 
 Ye are welcome, that is our country stile. 
 And much good do you, we are sorry 
 That Hereford hath no better for you. 
 
 A horse, a cock, trainsents, a bull, 
 Primero, gleek, hazard, mumchance ; 
 These sports through time are grown so dull. 
 As good to see a Morris dance ; 
 Which sport was promised injest. 
 But paid as truly as the rest. 
 A race (quoth you) behold a race, 
 No race of horses, but of men, 
 Men bom not ten miles from this place. 
 Whose courses outrun hundreds ten. 
 A thousand years on ten men's backs. 
 And one supplies what other lacks. 
 
 Lenvoi/. 
 This is the Lenvoy (you may gather) 
 Gentlemen, yeomen, grooms, and pages. 
 Lets pray. Prince Henry and his father 
 May outlive all these ten men's ages. 
 And he that mocks this application. 
 Is but a knave past reformation. 
 
 After this speech, "oldlfaH struck up, 
 and the Morris-dancers fell to footing, 
 whilst the whifflers in their office made 
 room for the hobby- horse." 
 
 The nari-ative concludes, by inquiring 
 — "And how do you like this Morris- 
 dance of Herefordshire ? Are they not 
 brave old youths ? Have they not the 
 light footing, the true tread, comelj' lift- 
 ing up one leg, and active bestowing of 
 the other. Kemp's morris to Norwich* 
 was no more to this than.a gaillaird, on a 
 common stage, at the. end of an old dead 
 comedy, is to a coranto danced on the 
 ropes. Here is a dozen of younkers, that 
 have hearts of oak at four score years, 
 backs of steel at four score and ten, ribs 
 of iron at a hundred, bodies sound as 
 bells, and healthful (according to the Rus- 
 sian proverb) as an ox, when they are 
 travelling down the hill, to make' that 
 120. These shewed in their dancing, and 
 moving up and down, as if Mawlborne 
 h;lls, in the very depth of winter-r-all 
 their heads covered with snow — shook 
 and danced at some earthquake. Shall any. 
 
 * Another Morris-dance of ancient celebrity. 
 
 man lay blame op these good old fathers, 
 because at such years they had iiot speiit 
 all their wild oats ? No, we commenc' 
 (as TuUy saith). a young man, that smells 
 somewhat of the old signior, and can but 
 counterfeit gravity in his cheeks j and shall 
 we not l^e^ve up with praises an eld man, 
 that at 108 years end, can rake his dead 
 embers abroad, and show some coals of thp 
 lusty Juventus glowjnginhim even then? 
 Such an old mad cap deserves better to 
 be the stuffing of a chfoniole, than Char- 
 ing Cross does for loosing his rotten head, 
 which (through age being wind shaken) 
 fell off, and was trod upon in contempt. 
 Were old Stowe alive, here were taboriiig 
 work enough for- his pen ; but, howsoever, 
 so memorable a monument of man shall 
 not wither in oblivion, if the sweet April 
 showers, vvhich drop from the Muses' 
 water, can make it grow up and flourish. 
 — ^A, dishonor were it to ppets and all 
 pen-men, if acts of this worth should not . 
 encomiastically be celebrated ap^ re- 
 corded. — Oh ! if all the people iiji the 
 kingdom should have their day% stretched 
 out to the IjCngth of tliese men, clerks and 
 sextons might go and hang themselves in 
 the bell ropes,; they would have cold 
 doings : prodigal heirs might beg, they 
 should hardly ^nd an almanac tha,t would 
 tell them when their lands should come 
 to their hands by the death of their fa- 
 thers,for they themselves would have white 
 beards before they could arrive at their 
 full age. It were no hoping after dead.men's 
 shoes, for botl) upper leather and soles 
 would be worn out to nothing. As, great 
 pity it wer^ (O old Margaret, or rather 
 new Mm/d-])fa)fion) that all men's wives 
 (especiaj,ly those that lil?e dutchrwatches 
 haye alarums in their mouths), should last 
 so long as thogj h^st done: hojiv would 
 tl^e world be plagued ?^TAlas !, wh^t, do I 
 see I Hold Tajborer! stand ilqtjliyrJforse ! 
 Mi^is-dancers lend us yotir hands! 
 Behold one of the nimble-legged old 
 gallants is by chance fallen do>yri, aijd, is 
 either so heavy, so weai:y, so ipactiye, of 
 hirnself, or ^s,e ^ye. of his fellows are of 
 such l^ttle,s,tr'ength, (hat all, their arms are 
 put under, hiip, ap l^y^rs, to lifthiip up, 
 yet tihe good 0I4 bpys, eannbt set him on 
 his, feet,. Let him no,t Ipe for shajive, you 
 thaj^ have, all t,his w,h,ile, seen him d^ijoe, 
 atjd thougi) he be a little out of his part, in 
 the v.ery last act of all, yet hiss af. no- 
 thing—but rather — Summi, J.ayis causa 
 
 pltlUflltf." 
 
Mb 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY ir. 
 
 846 
 
 After a lapse of l^o centuries we find 
 like liveliness) in like old age, in the 
 ^ame county. Mr. Brand states, that 
 a few years ago, a May game, or mor- 
 ris dance, was performed by the following 
 eight men, in Herefordshire, whose ages, 
 computed together, amounted to 800 
 years : J. Corley, aged 109 ; Thomas 
 Buckley, 106; John Snow, 101 ; John 
 Edey, 104; George Bailey, 106; Joseph 
 Medbury, 100 ; John Medbury, 95 ; Jo- 
 seph FidgeoD, 79. 
 
 It must be borne in mind, as before stated, 
 that, however the morris-dance may be 
 treated as a part of the May-sports, it is 
 only au interpolation upon those gambols, 
 and is, of itself, an entirely distinct mer- 
 riment. It was also introduced at other 
 festivals, and danced separately, as may 
 still be seen, although much reduced^ 
 and deprived of its chief character^ in 
 many parts of the country. 
 
 Parishes had their esta.blished morris- 
 dancers, and sometimes lent the dresses 
 of the dancers to the neighbouring pa- 
 rishes. In a rare tract, of the (ime of 
 queen Elizabeth, called, " Plaine Perce- 
 vall the Peace-maker of England," men- 
 lion is made of " a stranger, which, seeing 
 a quintessence (beside the foole and the 
 maid Morian) of all the picked youth, 
 strained out of a whole endship, footing 
 the morris about a may-pole, and he not 
 hearing the mihstrelsie for the fiddling, 
 the tune for the sound, nor the pipe for 
 the noise of the tabor,,bluntly demaund- 
 ed if they were not all beside themselves, 
 that they so lipM and skip'd without an 
 occasion." 
 
 Mr. Toilet, in_his account of the mor- 
 ris-dancers upon his window, describes his 
 maid Manan, as queen of the May, having 
 a golden crown on her head, and in her 
 left hand a red pink, as an emblem of sum- 
 mer. Her vesture was once fashionable 
 in the highest degree. Margaret, the 
 eldest daughter of Henry VII., was mar- 
 ried to James, king of Scotland, with the 
 crown upon her head, and her hair hanging 
 down. Betwixt the crown and the hair 
 was a very rich coif, hanging down be- 
 hind the whole length of the body. This 
 simple example explains the dress of 
 this maid Marian's head. Her coif is 
 purple, her surcoat blue, her cuffs white, 
 the ^skirts of her robe yellow, the sleeves 
 of a camaticn color, and her stomacher 
 
 red, with a yellow lace in cross bars. In 
 Shakspeare's play of Henry VIII., Anne 
 Boleyn, at her coronation, is " in her 
 hair;" or, as Holinshed says, her haiit 
 hanged down, but on her head she bad a 
 coif, with a circlet about it, full of rich 
 stones. 
 
 After the Morris degenerated into a 
 piece of coarse buffoonery, and Maid 
 Marian was personated by a clown, this 
 once elegant Queen of May obtained the 
 name of " Malkiu." Bishop Percy and 
 Mr. Steevens ^ree in making Maid Ma^^ 
 rian the mistress of Robin Hood. " It 
 appears from the old play of ' The Down- 
 fall of Robert Earl of Huntingdon,' 
 1601," says Mr. Steevens, " that Maid 
 Marian was originally a name assumed 
 by Matilda, the daughter of Robert Lord 
 Fitzwalter, while Robin Hood remained 
 in a state of outlawry : — 
 Next 'tis agreed (if thereto shee agree) 
 That faire Matilda henceforth change her 
 
 uame : 
 And, while it is the chance of Robin Hoode 
 To live in Shetewodde a poor outlaw's life. 
 She by Maide Marian's name be only call'd. 
 
 Wat. I am contented : reade on. Little 
 John: 
 Henceforth let me be nam'd Maide Marian." 
 
 This lady was poisoned by King John 
 at Dunmow Priory, after he had made 
 several fruitless attempts on her chastity. 
 Drayton has written her legend." 
 
 In Shakerley Marmionls " Antiquary,'' 
 act 4, is the following passage : " A merry 
 woild the while,. my, boyjandI,next Mid- 
 Sommer Ale, 1 may serve for a fool, and 
 he for Maid Marrian." Shakspeare, Hen. 
 IV. Part 1. A. Hi. sc. 3, speaks of Maid 
 Marian in herdegraded'state. Ir appears 
 by an extract in Lysons's Environs of 
 London, that in the reign of Henry VIII. 
 at Kingston-upon-Thames, the character 
 was performed by a woman who received 
 a shilling each year for her trouble. 
 
 But Mr. Douce considers this story as 
 a dramatic fiction : He says, " None^ of 
 tlie materials that constitute the more 
 authentic history of Robin Hood prove 
 the existence of such a character in the 
 shape of his mistre.<;s. There is a pretty 
 'French pastoral drama of the eleventh or 
 twelfth century, entitled Le Jeu du berger 
 et de la bergere, in which the principal 
 characters are Robin and Marion, a shep- 
 herd and shepherdess. Tire great inter- 
 course between the countries might have 
 been the means of importing' this name 
 amidst an infinite variety of other matters ; 
 
Sit 
 
 THE YEAll DOOK— JULV 17. 
 
 818 
 
 and there is, indeed, no other mode of 
 accounting for the introduction of a name 
 which never occurs in the page of Kng- 
 iish History. The story of Robin Hood 
 was, at a very early period, of a dramatic 
 cast; and it was perfectly natural that a 
 principal character should be transferred 
 from one drama to another. It might be 
 thought, likewise, that tttte English Robin 
 deserved his Marian as well as the other. 
 The circumstance of the French Marian 
 being acted by a boy contributes to s.up- 
 port the above opinion ; the part of the 
 English character having been personated, 
 though not always, in like manner." 
 
 Mr. Toilet describes a character upon 
 his window as in the full clerical tonsure, 
 with a chaplet of white and red beads in 
 his right hand ; and, expressive of his 
 professed humility, his eyes are cast upon 
 the ground. His corded girdle and his 
 russet habit denote him to bo one of the 
 
 Franciscan order, or one of the Grey 
 Friars. His stockings are red, his red 
 girdle is ornamented with a golden twist, 
 and with a golden tassel. At his girdle 
 hangs a wallet for the reception of pro- 
 vision, the only revenue of the mendicant 
 orders of religious, who were named Wair 
 leteers, or Budget-bearers. Mr. Steevens 
 supposes this Morris Friar designed for 
 Friar Tuck, chaplain to Robin Hood, as 
 King of May. Mr. Douce says : " There 
 is no very ancient mention of this person, 
 whose history is very uncertain. Drayton' 
 has thus recorded him, among other com- 
 panions of Robin Hood : — 
 Of Tuck,' the merry Friar, which many a 
 
 sermon made 
 In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws and 
 
 their tTade. Polyolb. Song xxvi. 
 He is known to have formed one of the 
 characters in the May Games during the 
 reign of Henry VIU,, and had been pro- 
 bably introduced into them at a much 
 
849 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 17. 
 
 850 
 
 earlier pflpod. From the occurrence of 
 this name on other occasions, there is 
 good reason for supposing that it was a 
 sort of generic appellation for any friar, 
 and that it originated from the dress of 
 the order, which was tucked or folded at 
 the waist by means of a cord or girdle. 
 Thus Chaucer, in his Prologue to the 
 Canterbury Tales, says of the Reve : — 
 
 Tucked he was, as is a frere aboute : 
 and he describes one of the friars in the 
 Sompnour's Tale : — 
 With scrippe and tipped staff, ytueked hie. 
 
 This friar maintained his situation in 
 the Morris under the reign of Elizabeth, 
 being thus mentioned in Warner's Al- 
 bion's England : — 
 Tho' Robin Hood, Hell John, frier Tucke, 
 
 and Marian, deftly play : 
 but is not heard- of afterwards. In Ben 
 Jonson's Masque of Gipsies, the clown 
 takes notice of his omission in the dance." 
 The friar's coat, as appears from the 
 parish accounts of Kingston-upon-Thames 
 was generally of russet. In an ancient 
 drama, called the play of Robin Hood, 
 very proper to be played in May games, 
 a friar, whose name is Tuck, is- one of the 
 principal characters. He comes to the 
 forest in search of Robin Hood, with an 
 intention to fight him, but consents to 
 become chaplain to his lad>. 
 
 The Fool of the Morris Dance, in IVir. 
 Toilet's window, (on the opposite page) 
 he speaks of as the counterfeit fool, 
 that was kept in the royal palace, and in 
 all great houses, to make sport for the 
 ' family. Mr. Toilet's fool appears with 
 all the badges of that office ; the bauble 
 in his hand and a coxcomb hood, witli 
 asses ears, on his head. The top of the 
 hood rises into the form of a cock's neck 
 and head, with a bell at the latter. Min- 
 shew's Dictionary, 1627, under the word 
 cock's comb, observes, that " natural idiots 
 and fools have [accustomed] and still do 
 accustome themselves to weare in their 
 cappes cocke's feathers, or a hat with the 
 necke and head of a cocke on the top, 
 and a bell thereon." The hood of Mr. 
 Toilet's fool is blue, guarded or edged 
 with yellow at its scalloped bottom ; the 
 doublet red, striped across, or rayed with 
 a deeper red, and edged vrith yellow; the 
 girdle yellow ; the left-side hose yellow, 
 with a red shoe ; and the right side hose 
 bhie, soled with red leather. 
 
 'carlet, Stokesley, and Little John 
 appear to have been Robin Hood's conv- 
 panions, from the following old ballad : — 
 
 I have heud talk of Robin Hood, 
 
 Deny, Deiry, Perry down. 
 And of brave Idtlle John, 
 Of Friar Tuck and Will Searkl, 
 Stoliedey and Maid Marrian 
 
 Hey down, &c. 
 
 In the parish accounts of Kingston-upon- 
 Thames is an entry "for Little John's 
 cote." Mr. Douce says, Little John " is 
 first mentioned, together with Robin 
 Hood, by Fordun the Scottish Historian, 
 who wrote in the fourteenth century, and 
 who speaks of the celebration of the story 
 of these persons in the theatrical per- 
 formances of his time, and of the minstrels' 
 songs relating to them, which he says the 
 common people preferred to all other 
 romances. 
 
 The Taborer of the Morris Dance in Mr. 
 Toilet's window is represented opposite, 
 in the pane next to the fool. To prove 
 this figure to be Tom the Piper, Mr. Toi- 
 let cites Mr. Steevens's quotation of these 
 lines from Drayton's third eclogue : — 
 Myself above Tom Piper to advance. 
 Who so bestirs him in the Morris Banc 
 For penny wage. 
 
 He adds, that his tabor, tabor-^lick, 
 and pipe, attest his profession ; the feather 
 in his cap, his sword, &c., may denote him 
 to be a squire-minstrel, or a minstrel of 
 the superior order. Chaucersays, "Min- 
 strels used a red hat," and in the window 
 Tom Piper's bonnet is red, faced, or 
 turned up with yellow, something like 
 red muffetees at his wrists, over his 
 doublet is a red garment, like a short 
 cloak with arm-holes, and with a yellow 
 cape, his hose red, and garnished across 
 and perpendicularly on the thighs, with a 
 narrow yellow lace : his shoes are brown. 
 
 The Hobby-horse, Mr. Toilet is induced 
 to think, b the king of the May, as figured 
 in his window, firom the crimson foot- 
 cloth fretted with gold, the golden bit, the 
 purple bridle, with a golden tassel, and 
 studded with gold, the man's purple 
 mantle with a golden border, which is 
 latticed with purple, his golden crown, 
 purple cap, with a red feather and with a 
 golden knop. " Our Hobby," he adds, 
 "is a spirited horse of paste-board, in 
 which the master dances and displays 
 (ricks of legerdemain, such as the thread- 
 
851 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 17. 
 
 052 
 
 ing of the needle, th^ qiiiniclcing of the 
 whigh-hie, and the d«tggers in the nose, 
 &c., as Ben Jonson, edit iT5S, vol. i.^ p. 
 171, acquaints us, and thereby 'explains 
 the swords ia the man's eheeks'. What 
 is stuck in the horse's mouth I appi;ehend 
 to be a ladle, ornamented with a ribbon. 
 Its use was to receive the spectators' pecu- 
 niary donations. — The colour of the 
 hobby horse is a reddish white, liVe the 
 beautiful blossom of the peaeh>tree. Th@ 
 man's coatj or doublet, is the only one 
 upon the window that has- buttons upon 
 it, and the right side of it is yellow, and 
 the left red." 
 
 Mr. Douce says, " Whoever happens to 
 recollect the manner in which Mr. Bayes's 
 troops, in ' the Rehearsal,'are exhibited on 
 the stage, will have a tolerably correct no- 
 tion of a morris hobby horse. Additional 
 remains of the Pyrrhic, or sword-dance, 
 are preserved in the daggers stuck in the 
 man's cheeks, which constituted one of 
 the hocus-pocus or legerdemain tricks 
 practised by this character, among which 
 were the threading of a needle, and the 
 transferring of an egg fVom one hand to 
 the other, called by Ben Jonson the tra- 
 vels of the egg. To the horse's mouth 
 was suspended a ladle, for the purpose of 
 gathering money from the spectators. In 
 later times the fool appears to have per- 
 formed this office, as may. be collected 
 from Nashe's play of 'Summer's last 
 Will and Te^tamenl,' where this stage- 
 direction occurs : ' VeE goes, in and 
 fetcheth out the Hobby-Horse and the 
 Morrice Daunce, who daunce abo^t.' 
 Ver then says: — 'About, about, lively, 
 put your horse to it, reyne him harder, 
 jerkehim with your wand, sit fasl^sit fast 
 man ; Foole, hold up your ladle there.' 
 Will Summers is. made to say,, ' You 
 friend with the Hobby Horse, goe not too 
 fast, for fear of wearing out, my lord's tyle, 
 stones with your hob-n^ylfis.' Aftec-, 
 wards there enter three, clowns and three 
 maids, who dance the morris, and at the 
 same time sing the following song -— 
 
 Trip aud goQ, heavo and hoe« 
 
 Up and downe, to ai^d 'fro,. 
 
 From the to.wne, to th^ grove, 
 
 Twosmd two, let us r,ove,. 
 
 A, Maying,, a playing ; 
 
 Love hath no gainsaying : 
 
 So merrily trip and gpe>." 
 
 Lord Orford, in his Catalogue of Eng* 
 lish Engravers, under the articjp of Peter 
 Stent, describes two paintings at Lord 
 
 Fitzwilliam's, on Richmond Green, which 
 came out of the old neighbouring palace. 
 They were executed by Vinckenboom, 
 about the end qf the reign of James 1., 
 and exhibit views; of the above pal&ce ; 
 in one of these pictures a Morris Dance 
 is introduced, consisting of seven figures, 
 viz. a fool a Hobby -horse,.a piper, a Maid 
 Marian, and three other daneers, the rest 
 of the figures being spectators. Of these, 
 the first four and one of the dancers„Mr. 
 Douce reduced in a plate from a tracing 
 by the late Capt. Grose. Mr. Douce says, 
 "The fool has an inflated bladder, or eel- 
 skiny with a ladle at the end of it, and 
 with this he is collecting money. The 
 piper is pretty muck in his original state; 
 but the hobby-horse wants the legerde- 
 main apparatus, and Maid Marian is not 
 remarkable for the elegance of her person. 
 A short time before the Revolution in 
 France, the May games and Morris 
 Dance were celebrated in many parts of 
 that country, accompanied by a fool and 
 a Hobby-horse. The latter was termed 
 un chevatet ; and, if the authority of Min- 
 shevn be not questionable, the SpaiiiardB 
 had the same character under the name 
 of tarmca."* 
 
 There are other representations of figures 
 in the Morris-dance on Mr. Toilet's win- 
 dow, but they seem to have no other 
 specific character than that of dancers. 
 
 In a paper " On the poetical works of 
 George Wilheri" who endured much suf- 
 fering for publishing his honest thoughts 
 under the: commonwealth^ as well as the 
 monarchy, Mr. Charlfes, Lamb says, — 
 "Whether encaged, or roaming at liberty, 
 Wither never seems tO' have aBatfed a jot 
 of that' firee spirit which sets its mark 
 upioni his writings. He is for ever antici- 
 pating persecution' and martyrdom'; fin- 
 gering, as it were, the flames, to try how 
 he can bear them. — ^The prisoih notes of 
 Wither are finer than the wood notes of 
 most of his poetical brethren."-|- In con- 
 finement, and at an advanced age, he ex- 
 pressed; his cares and consolations in the 
 following poem : — 
 
 The Cohtemted Mah's Mokice. 
 False world, thy malice t espic 
 
 With what thou hast designed' ; 
 And therein with thee to comply/ 
 
 \yhO) likewise are combined : 
 
 But, do thy worst, I thee defib. 
 
 Thy, mischiefs are confined. 
 
 * Brand, " 
 
 i Works of Charles Lamb, 1818, H. 129. 
 
853 
 
 THE VEAR BOOK. -JULY 17 
 
 854 
 
 Fxom me, thou my estate hast toin. 
 
 By cheatings me beguiled : 
 Me thou hast also made thy scorn ; 
 
 With troubles me turmoiled : 
 But to an heritage I'm born. 
 
 That never can be spoiled. 
 
 So wise I am not, to be mad. 
 
 Though great are my oppressions ; 
 
 Nor so much fool as to be sad. 
 Though robb'd of my possessions : 
 
 For, cures for all sores may be had. 
 And grace for all transgressions. 
 
 These words in youth my motto were. 
 And mine in age I'll make them, — 
 
 I neither have, nor want, nor care ; 
 When also first I spake them, 
 
 1 thought things would be as tiiey are. 
 And meekly therefore take them. 
 
 The riches I possess this day 
 - Are no such goods of fortune 
 As kings can give or take away, 
 
 Or tyrants make uncertain : 
 
 For hid within myself are they 
 
 Behinde an unseen curtain. 
 
 Of my degree, but few or none 
 
 Were dayly so frequented ; 
 But now I'm left of every one. 
 
 And therewith well contented : 
 For, when I am with Giod alone^ 
 
 Much folly is prerented. 
 
 Then, why should I give way to grief ? 
 
 Come, strike up pipe and tabor 
 He that affecteth God in chief. 
 
 And as himself his neighbour. 
 May still enjoy a happy life. 
 
 Although he lives by labor. 
 
 Not me alone have they made poor. 
 By whom I have been cheated ; 
 
 But very many thousands more 
 Are of their hopes defeated j 
 
 Who little dreamed heretofore 
 Of being so ill treated. 
 
 Then, if my courage should be less 
 Than theirs who never prized 
 
 The resolutions I profess 
 (And almost idolized), 
 
 I well deserv'd in my distress 
 To be of all despised. 
 
 Our sad complaints, our sighs and tears. 
 Make meat nor clothing cheaper: 
 
 Vain are our earthly, hopes and,f);ari). 
 This life is but a vapor ; 
 
 And therefore, in despight ofrcares^ 
 111 sing, and dance, and caper., 
 
 Though food nor raiment left me were, 
 I would of wants be dreadless ; 
 
 For then I quickly should be there 
 Where bread and cloth are needless ; 
 
 And in those blessings have my share. 
 Whereof most men are heedless. 
 
 I then should that attain unt 
 
 For which I now endeavour ; 
 From my false lovers thither go. 
 
 Where friendship fiuleth never : 
 And, through a few short pangs of voe, 
 
 To joys diat last for ever 
 
 For service done, and love expresi, 
 
 (Though very few regard it) 
 My country owes me bread, at least; 
 
 But if I be debarr'd it,, 
 Good conscience is a dayly feast 
 
 Afid sorrow never maTr'd> it. 
 
 My grand oppressors had a thou^t. 
 
 When riches they bereaved, 
 Th^t then, my ruine hiid been wrougnt ; 
 
 But, they are quite deceived : 
 For them the devil much mis^taugh 
 
 When that weak snare they weaved. 
 
 If in those courses I h^d gone 
 
 Wherein they are eaployed. 
 Till such achievements had been won 
 
 As are by theqi enjoyed. 
 They might have wager'd ten to one 
 
 1 should have been destroyed. 
 
 But proofs have now confirmed me 
 How much our vice ofiendeth. 
 
 And what small helps our virtues be 
 To thaj: which God inteadeth. 
 
 Till he himself shall make us free. 
 And our defects amendeth. 
 
 Not one is from corruption clear ^ 
 
 Men are depraved wholly. 
 Mere cruelties their mercies are 
 
 Their wisdom is but folly ; 
 And, when most righteous they appe r. 
 
 Then are they most unholy. 
 
 There is no trust in temp'ral things. 
 
 For they are all unsteady : 
 That no assnra.nceifrom them springs. 
 
 Too well I find already j 
 And' that ev'n parliaments and kings 
 
 Are frail, or false, or eiddy^ 
 
 All stands upon a tott'ring wheel. 
 
 Which never fixt abideth ; 
 Both comn^pnweals and kingdoms reel ; 
 
 He that in them con^deth, 
 (Or, trusts their faith), shall mischiefs feel. 
 
 With which soe'er he sideth., 
 
 This wit I long ago was taught. 
 But then I would not heed it : 
 
 Experience must by fools be hoqght. 
 Else they'll not think they need it. 
 
 By this means was.my<ruin wrouglit ; 
 Yet they are knaves, w|vo did it. 
 
 When to the ground deprest I was. 
 Our mushrooms and our bubbles. 
 
 Whom neither truth, nor wit, nor grace. 
 But wealth and pride ennobles 
 
 As cruel were as they are base. 
 And jeer'd me in my troubles. 
 
855 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 17. 
 
 6S6 
 
 And when tlwir hate these had lUEtde known. 
 
 New mischiefs it begat me : 
 For ev'ry rascal durty clown 
 
 Presuincd to amate me ; 
 And all the curs about the town 
 
 Grinn'd, snarl'd, and barked at me. 
 
 Since, therefore, 'tis not in my power, 
 
 (Though oft I fore-discern them) 
 To shun the world's despights one hour. 
 
 Thus into mirth I'll turn them ; 
 And neither grieve, nor pout, nor lowre. 
 
 But laugh, and sing, and scorn them. 
 This fit, at sev'nty years and two. 
 
 And thus to spend my hours, 
 The world's contempt inclines me to. 
 
 Whilst she my state devours ; 
 If this be all that she can do, 
 
 A fig for all her powers. 
 
 Yet I and shee, miy well agree. 
 Though we have much contended j 
 
 Upon as e4ual terms are we 
 As most who have offended ; 
 
 For, I sleight her, and she sleights mc. 
 And there's my quarel ended. 
 
 This only doth my mirth allay, 
 
 I am to some engaged. 
 Who sigh and weep, and suffer may. 
 
 Whilst thus I sing incaged ; 
 But I've a God, and so have'they 
 
 By whom that care's asswaged. 
 
 And he that gives us in these aays 
 New lords, may give us new laws ; 
 
 So that our present puppe^ plays, 
 
 Our whimsies, brauls, and gew-gaws. 
 
 May turned be to songs of praise, ' 
 And holy halleiujabs. 
 
 haii upoti the tyre of h^t head ten rubies, 
 twelve diamonds, and twenty-nine gar- 
 nishing pearls. 
 
 By a special warrant of Charles I. 
 dated at Hampton Court, Dec 7, in the 
 first year of his reign, 1625, a large quan- 
 tity of gold plate and jewels of great 
 value, which had " long continued, as it 
 were, in a continual descent with the 
 crown of England," were transferred to 
 the Duke of Buckingham, and the Bail 
 i<f Holland, Ambassadors Extraordinary 
 '-r- the United Provinces, who were thereby 
 iiiliorised to transport and dispose of 
 ihera " beyond the seas," in such manner 
 as the king had previously directed these 
 noblemen in private. The splendid gold 
 salt called the Morris Dance, above de- 
 scribed, jewelled with nine great saphire's, 
 si.\ great pearls, one hundred and fifty- 
 nine small pearls, ninety-nine rubies, and 
 fifty-one diamond^, and weighing one 
 hundred and fifty-one ounces and a half, 
 and half a quarter, was thus disposed of 
 among the other precious heir-looms of 
 the crown, specified in the, king's wir- 
 rant.* 
 
 A MoitRis Dance in Jewellery. 
 
 At the accession of Charles I., there 
 belonged to the crown " One Salte of 
 goulde called the Morris Daunce." Its 
 foot was garnished with six great saphires 
 fifteen diamonds, thirty-seven rubies, and 
 forty-two small pearls; upon the bor- 
 der, about the shank, twelve diamonds, 
 eighteen rubieS, and fifty-two pearls ; and 
 standing about that, were jive Morris 
 dauncers ondTaierer, having amongst them 
 thirteen small garnishing pearls and one 
 ruby. The Lady holding the salt had 
 upon her garment, from her foot to her 
 face, fifteen pearls, and eighteen rubies; 
 upon the foot ofrthe same salt were four 
 coarse rubies and four coarse diamonds ; 
 upon the border, about the middle of 
 the salt, were four coarse diamonds, seven 
 rubies, and eight pearls; and upon the 
 top of the said salt, four diamonds, four 
 rubies, and three great pearls ; [the lady] 
 
 ORIGINAL POETRY. 
 Think Not of Me. 
 Written for a Lady's Album. 
 [Unpublished.] 
 " Go to the courts of the noble and gay j 
 Bear beauty's palm from tlie fairest away ; 
 Shine tbou ihe brightest in lighted hall, 
 — 'J"he cynosure of the festival ; — 
 Go ; — but wherever thy wanderings be. 
 Ne'er dim thy gladness by thinking of me I' 
 
 " Why should remembrance thy young bosom 
 
 stain ; 
 Does the cloud on the streamlet for ever re- 
 main ? 
 Fadeth it not at the sun's early glow. 
 And the tide in its purity lovelier flow 1 
 — Let all thoughts of me be as fading and 
 
 fleet; 
 Think not of me in thy happiness, sweet ! 
 
 " Oh, fare-ye-well ! — ^I'here's a shade on my 
 
 heart !" 
 The steed is impatient — its lord must depart. 
 Yet, ere home smiles the last time to his view. 
 He turns with a sigh to another adieu — 
 — " Be thy bosom, as now, ever spotless and 
 
 free. 
 And ne'er in its fondness be one thought of 
 
 me!" 
 
 W. B. D. D. Turn bull. 
 
 * Rvmer. 
 
857 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 18, 19. 
 
 05B 
 
 3Juli> 18. 
 
 July 18, 1735, died, aged ninety, 
 Richard Shorediche, esq., who had been 
 upwards of fifty years in the commission 
 of the peace for Middlesex, and several 
 times colonel of the county foot militia. 
 He was the last surviving juryman of those 
 who served on the trial of the seven bishops 
 committed to the tower by king James II., 
 and, being the junior juryman, was the first 
 that declared them " not guilty." Seven 
 were of a different opinion, but, by the 
 strength and honesty of his arguments, he 
 brought them over to his own sentiments ; 
 and, by this firmness in the cause of justice 
 and liberty, may be said to have fixed the 
 basis of the constitution.* 
 
 Sue rises 
 — sets 
 
 h, m. 
 4 
 8 
 
 July 18. 
 
 — seis . . . . o u 
 
 Garden persicary flowers. 
 
 Tiger Idy flowers, and is often in full 
 flower by this time. 
 
 The corn-fields now assume a fine 
 brown color. 
 
 mnv 19- 
 
 19 July, 1720, died, in Newgate, Law- 
 rence Howell. He was a non-juring 
 clergyman, and had resided in Bull-head 
 court, Jewin-street, London, where he 
 wrote a pamphlet, of which a thousand 
 copies were printed, and found in his 
 house. It denounced George I. as a 
 usurper; and condemned all that had 
 been done in the church, subsequent to 
 archbishop Sancroft's deprivation, as ille- 
 gal and uncanonical For this offence he 
 was tried at the Old Bailey, and, being 
 convicted, he was sentenced to pay a fine 
 of £500 to the king ; to remain in prison 
 for three years ; to find four sureties of 
 £500 each, besides his own surety in 
 £1000, for bis good behaviour during life; 
 to be twice whipped ; and to be degraded, 
 and stripped of his gown by the hands 
 of the public executioner. He heard this 
 severe and cruel sentence un4ismayed, 
 and indignantly enquired, " Who will 
 whip a clergyman ?" The court answer- 
 ed, " We pay no deference to your cloth, 
 because you are a disgrace to it, and have 
 no right to wear it : besides, we do not 
 look upon you as a clergyman, in that 
 you have produced no proof of your or- 
 dination, but from Dr. Hickes, under the 
 
 • Gentlemia'i Magasiue. 
 
 denomination of the bishop of Thetford, 
 which is illegal, and not according to the 
 constitution of this kingdom, which has 
 no such bishop." Continuing to dispute 
 with the court, it caused the hangman to 
 tear off his gown as he stood at Jhe bar. 
 The public whipping was not inflicted ; 
 his term of imprisonment was shortened 
 by his death. 
 
 Sin Eaters. 
 
 Sin-eating is the only that can be' used 
 to signify a practice which prevailed with 
 our ancestors. Lawrence Howell, men- 
 tioned above, wrote a " History of the 
 Pontificate, in which he mentions a 
 decretal epistle, attributed to a pope Alex- 
 ander, in the second century, which, by 
 an exposition of " They eat up the sin of 
 my people," Hosea iv. 8, implies that this 
 passage signifies " the dignity of priests, 
 who, by their prayers and offerings, eat 
 up the sins of the people." An usage 
 called sin-eating undoubtedly arose in 
 catliolic times, and, however it may have 
 been limited to the clergy in early ages, 
 was afterwards continued and practised 
 as a profession, by certain persons called 
 sin-eaters. 
 
 In a letter from John Bagford, dated 
 1715, printed in " Leland's Collectanea," 
 there is the following account of a sin- 
 eater. — "Within the memory of our fa- 
 thers, in Shropshire, in those villages 
 adjoinining to Wales, when a person died, 
 there was notice given to an old ' sire ' 
 (for so they called him,) who presently 
 repaired to the place where the deceased 
 lay, and stood before the door of the 
 house, when some of the family came out 
 and furnished him with a cricket (or stool), 
 on which he sat down facing the door. 
 Then they gave him a groat, which he 
 put in his pocket; a crust of bread, 
 which he ate; and a full bowl of ale, 
 which he drank off at a draught. After 
 this, he got up from the cricket, and pro- 
 nounced, with a composed gesture, ' the 
 ease and rest of the soul departed, for 
 which he would pawn his own soul.' 
 This" says Bagford, " I had from the 
 ingenious John Aubrey, esq., who made 
 a collection of curious observations, which 
 I have seen." 
 
 Among the Lansdowne MSS., in 
 the British Museum, are statements in 
 Aubrey's own hand writing, to this pur- 
 
 • Xoble. 
 
859 
 
 tHE YEAR BOOK,— JULY 20, 21. 
 
 860 
 
 port. — " In the count) o^ Hereford was 
 an old custom at funerals to hire poor 
 people, who were to take upon them the 
 sins of the party deceased. One of them 
 (he was a long, lean, u^y, lamentable 
 ' poor rascal), I remember, lited in a cot- 
 tage oti Ilosse highway. The manner was, 
 that when the corpse was brought out of 
 the house, and laid on the bier, a loaf of 
 bread was brought out, and delivered to 
 the sin-eater, ovet the corpse, as also a 
 mazard bowl, of maple, full of beer (which 
 he was to drink up), and sixpence in 
 money ; in consideration whereof he took 
 upon him, ipso facto, all the sins of the 
 defunct, and iVeed him or her from walk- 
 ing after they were dead." Aubrey adds, 
 " This custom, though rarely used in our 
 days, yet, by some people, was observed 
 even in the strictest time of the Presby'- 
 terian government; as, at Dynder (volens 
 nolens the parson of the parish), the kin- 
 dred of a woman, deceased there, had 
 this ceremony punctually performed, ac- 
 cording to her will : and, also, the like 
 was done at the city of Hereford, in those 
 times, where a woman kept, many years 
 before her death, a mazard bowl for the 
 sin-eater ; and the like in other places in 
 this county ; as also in Brecon : e. g. at 
 Llanggors, Where Mr. Gwin, the minister, 
 about 1640, could not hinder the per- 
 formance of this ancient custom. I be- 
 lieve," says Aubrey, " this custom was 
 heretofore used all over Wales." He 
 states further, " A. D. 1686. This cus- 
 tom is used to this day in North Wales." 
 Bishop White Kennet, who appears to 
 have possessed Aubrey's MS., has added 
 this note. " It seems a remainder of this 
 custom which lately obtained at Amers- 
 den, in the county of Oxford ; where, at 
 the burial of every corpse, one cake and 
 one ftaggon of ale, just after the inter- 
 ment, were brought to the minister in tlie 
 church porch."* 
 
 h. m, 
 
 Juli/ 19. Sun rises , . .41 
 — sets . . . . 7 i9 
 Garden levetera in full flower 
 
 Uul» 20. 
 
 On the 20th of July, 1725, died, Ed- 
 ward Winnington Jeffries, esq., of Hom- 
 me Castle, in Worcestershire, a represent- 
 ative of the borough of Droitwich, in four 
 successive parliaments. His family had 
 
 * Brand. 
 
 been owners, for more than two hundred 
 years, of Homme Casile, which was much 
 danyaged by fire in 1605 ; and destroyed 
 in the civil warsj by Cromwell's party. 
 In 1649> Mr. Jeffries, the then owner, 
 discovered, in the grounds near his house, 
 a vault in the middle of an ancient fori, 
 made in the fashion of a half-mooUj witli 
 an iron chest containing treasure to a 
 considerable amount. 
 
 Juh/ 20. 
 
 Sun rises 
 — sets 
 China-aster 
 
 Bleeding amaranth V flower 
 
 Night-floweiing catchfly ) 
 
 h 
 
 h. m. 
 4 2 
 7 58 
 
 IDuli»2l. 
 
 The Thrush. 
 
 The common song-thrush is somewhat 
 less than the blackbird : the upper surface 
 of the body is of an olive color, with a 
 mixture of yellow in the wings; the breas*. 
 yellowish, with dusky spots; and the 
 belly white. 
 
 There are other sorts of thrushes in 
 England : — 
 
 1 The great thrush, called the liiissel- 
 bird, measle^taw, of shrike, in color and 
 spots agrees with the song-thrush, but ;' 
 a bigger bird ; very beautiful to look at, 
 but not valued for its song. 
 
 2 The redwing, swinepipe, or wind- 
 thrush, is, in shape and color, very like 
 the song-thrush, which has more and 
 larger spots on the breast and belly, and 
 is somewhat bigger. This bird is in no 
 esteem for singing. 
 
 S The small heath-thrush, so called 
 from its building upon heaths and com- 
 mons, is of a darker color than others of 
 the thrush kind, and esteenied, by some, 
 for singing ; but none are comparable to 
 the coiiim©n song-thrnSh, Which, at the 
 beginnii!>g of spring, sits 6B high trees and 
 siilgs deliciously; When reared from the 
 nest it learris the s&hgs 6( the woodlark, 
 nightingale^ afld o&tet curiotis birds. 
 
 Thg niatg and fertiale are very much 
 alike in color aisd shape ; but, in a full- 
 feathered male, the dusky^ or olive color, 
 is somewhat darker and more gkjssy than 
 that of the female; The spots seeiif 
 darker and brighter, and rather more white 
 appears on his beUy^ Indeed, it may be 
 observed of all birds, where the colors 
 are the same in both, that the male excels; 
 in resplendency of feathers. 
 
61 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. JULY 22 
 
 862 
 
 When young, choose the sleekest and 
 brightest birds ; as soon as they begin to 
 feed themselves, both the male and female 
 will record : the male gets upon his 
 perch, and sings his notes low for some 
 time; the hen attempts to sing, but does 
 it only by jerks. At the latter end of the 
 summer, when their moulting is over, the 
 males break out strong into song, and sing 
 ill winter as well as summer. 
 
 The thrush breeds nearly as soon as 
 the blackbird. She builds in woods or 
 orchards, soinetimes in a thick hedge, 
 near the ground. The outside of her nest 
 consists of fine soft green moss, interwoven 
 with dead grass, hay, &c., and the inside 
 is invariably, and very curiously, plastered 
 widi cow-dung, while the blackbird al- 
 ways plasters with clay or mud. The 
 blackbird lays a covering of soft stuff in 
 the inside to deposit her eggs upon ; but 
 the thrush lays hers upon the bare inside 
 or plastering. The eggs of the thrush 
 are five or six in number, of a bluish- 
 green color, speckled with a few small 
 black spots, chiefly at the large end. 
 
 The hollow of a nest is about two inches 
 and a half deep ; the diameter of fhe in- 
 side, at the top, four inches, and exactly 
 round ; its weight varies from under two 
 ounces to three and a halt The length 
 of a full-grown bird, from the point of 
 the bill to the end of the tail, is nine 
 iuches ; of which the bill is one, and the 
 tail three and a half. Allowing for tail, 
 bill, and head, which always lie out when 
 the female sits in her nest, the cavity is 
 just fitted to receive her body. The same 
 is observable of the nests of some other 
 birds ; especially such as build with sides, 
 and make deep cavities. The bird stands 
 within side, while at work, and models 
 her building to the dimensions of her body. 
 The young birds are usually taken at 
 twelve or fourteen days old, or sooner, in 
 mild weather. They should be kept warm 
 and clean, and fed every two hours with 
 raw meat, bread, and hemp-seed bruised ; 
 the meat cut small, and the bread a little 
 wetted, and then mixed together. The 
 nest should be kept as neat and clean as 
 possible, and, when become foul, the birds 
 should be taken out and put into clean 
 straw. When th^ are pretty well fea- 
 thered, put thetain a large cage with two 
 or three perches in it, and dry moss or 
 straw at the bottom. At full growth they 
 should be fed with fresh meat, boiled, 
 raw, or roasted, but not salted. Some 
 give them only bread and hemp-seed ; 
 
 but fresh meat, mixed With bread, is the 
 best food. Let them have fresh water 
 twice a week, to wash themselves, or they 
 will not thrive; if they are not kept clean 
 they are very subject to the cratnp : clean 
 lodgings are the best means to prevent it. 
 The thrush, at its native liberty, feeds 
 on insects and snails, and the berries of 
 white-thorn and misletoe.* 
 
 The Rise ahd Fall. 
 At a little select party in Edinburgh 
 of "bien bodies,'' there was an ancient 
 couple present, who had made a com- 
 petency in a small shop in town, and re- 
 tired from business, leaving their only son 
 as successor in the shop, with a stock free 
 from every incumbrance. But John, after 
 a few years, had failed in the world, and 
 his misfortunes became the theme of dis- 
 course : — 
 
 Mrs. A. : Dear me, Mrs. K., I woridor 
 how your Johnnie did sae ill, in the same 
 shop you did sae weel in ? 
 
 Mrs. K.: Hoot, woman, it's nae wonder 
 at a'. 
 
 Mrs. A. ; Weel, how did it happen ? 
 Mrs. K. : 111 tell you how it happened. 
 Ye mun ken, when Tam and me began 
 to merchandize, we took paritch, night and 
 morning, and kail to our dinner — when 
 things grew better, we took tea to our 
 breakfast. A-weel, woman, they aye 
 mended, and we sometimes coft a lamb- 
 leg for a Sunday dinner, and, before we 
 gae up, vf e sometimes coft a chuckle — we 
 were doing sae weel. Noo, ye maun 
 ken, w " n Johnnie began to merchandize, 
 he be^jaii at the chuckle first. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 4 3 
 7 57 
 
 lull/ 21. Sun rises . . 
 — sets . . . 
 Sunflower blows. 
 Early summer pears ripen. 
 
 UUl» 32. 
 
 Execution of an Order. 
 In July, 1823, a parish officer from the 
 neighbourhood of Middleton undertook 
 to convey a lunatic to the asylum at Lan- 
 caster, pursuant to an order sigtled by 
 two magistrates. As the afSicted man 
 was respectably connected, a gig was 
 hired for the purpose, and he was per- 
 suaded that he was going on an excursion 
 
 * Albiu. 
 
863 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. JULY 22. 
 
 864 
 
 of pleasure. In the course of the jour- 
 ney, however, something occurred to 
 arouse his saspicions, but he said nothing 
 on the subject, made no resistance, and 
 seemed to enjoy his jaunt. When they 
 arrived at Lancaster, it was too late in the 
 evening to proceed to the asylum, and 
 they took ud their quarters for the night 
 at an inn.- Very early jn the morning 
 the lunatic got up and searched tlie pockets 
 of the sleeping officer, where he found 
 the magistrates' order for his own deten- 
 tion. With that cunning which madmen 
 not unfrequently display, he made the 
 best of his way to the asylum, and told 
 one of the keepers that he had got a sad 
 mad fellow down at Lancaster, whom he 
 should bring up in the course of the day -^ 
 adding, " He's a very queer fellow, and 
 has got very odd ways ; for instance, 1 
 should not wonder if he was to say I was 
 the madman, and that he was bringing 
 me ; but you must take care of him, 
 and not believe a word he says." The 
 keeper of course promised compliance, 
 and the lunatic returned to the inn, 
 where he found the overseer still fast 
 asleep. He woke him, and they sat down 
 to breakfast together ; and he said, " You 
 are a very lazy fellow, to be lying all day. 
 I have had a good long walk this morn- 
 ing." " Indeed," said the overseer. " I 
 should like to have a walk myself, after 
 breakfast ; perhaps you will go with me." 
 The lunatic assented ; and after breakfast 
 they set out, the overseer leading the way, 
 intending to deliver his charge. When 
 they came within sight of the asylum, the 
 lunatic exclaimed, " What a fine house 
 that is !" " Yes," said the overseer. " I 
 should like to see the inside of it." " So 
 should 1," observed the other." " Well," 
 said the overseer, " I dare say they will 
 let us look through; liowever, I'll ask." 
 The overseer rang the bell, and the keeper, 
 whom the lunatic had previously seen, 
 made his appearance, with two or three 
 assistants. The overseer tlien began to 
 fumble in his pockets for the order, while 
 the lunatic produced gravely it to the 
 keeper, saying, " This is the man I spoke 
 to you about, you will take care of him ; 
 shave his head, and put a strait waistcoat 
 on him." The assistants immediately laid 
 hands on the overseer, who vocifer- 
 ated loudly that the other was the mad- 
 man, and' he the keeper; but this only 
 tended to confirm the story previously 
 told by the lunatic. The overseer was taken 
 away, and became so obstreporous that a 
 
 strait waistcoat was put upon him, and 
 his head was shaved secundum artem. 
 Meanwhile the lunatic walked deliberately 
 back to the inn, paid the reckoning, and 
 set out on his journey homeward. The 
 good people of his parish were, of 
 course, not a little surprised on finding 
 the wrong man return : they were afraid 
 that, in a fit of frenzy, he had murdered 
 the overseer ; and asked him, with great 
 trepidation, what he had done with his 
 companion. " Done with him," said the 
 madman, " why, I left him at Lancaster 
 asylum — mad !" This was not far from 
 the truth ; for the wits of the overseer had 
 been nearly ovei set by his unexpected de- 
 tention, and subsequent treatment. In- 
 quiry was forthwith made, and, it being 
 ascertained that the man was actually in 
 the asylum, a magistrate's order was pro- 
 cured for his liberation ; and he returned 
 home with a handkerchief tied round his 
 head, in lieu of the natural covering, 
 which the barber of the Lancaster asyiutn 
 had deprivisd him of.* 
 
 " I AM GOING YOUR WAY." 
 
 Paul Hifiernan, a man of learning and 
 ingenuity, " of the old school," was always 
 " going your way." To tiy how far Paul 
 would go " your way," a gentleman of 
 his acquaintance, after treating him with 
 a good supper at the Bedford coiTee-house, 
 took him by the hand, saying, " Good 
 night, Paul." " Stay," says the other, 
 " I am going your way." His friend 
 stepped onward, out of his own way, 
 with Paul, to Limebouse ; when, contriv- 
 ing to amuse Paul with the certain success 
 of his tragedy the "Heroine of the Cave " 
 (afterwards performed forReddish's bene- 
 fit with no success, he brought him back 
 to Carpenter's coffee-house, in Covent- 
 Garden, at three in the morning, where, 
 after drinking some coffee and punch, a 
 new departure was taken, with " Good 
 morning, Paul ; I am going to the Blue 
 boar, in Holborn." — " Well," says Hef- 
 fernan, " that's in my way ; " and, upon 
 leaving his friend at the gate, he took his 
 leave a second time, about five in the 
 morning, and afterwards walked leisurely 
 home to his lodging in College-street, 
 Westminster, next door to the hatter's, 
 where he died about 1780.f 
 
 * ManchestCT Guardian. 
 t Polyanthea, i. 175. 
 
866 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK—JULY 22. 
 
 866 
 
 "SHOW JAMIE"— AN EDINBURGH CHARACTER. 
 
 The following communication was ac- 
 companied by a <irawing from the me- 
 ritorious pencil of Mr. W. G^iete, of 
 £dinbuTgn, for the present enghiTing. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 J&MEs Bf.atson— for he, in common 
 with ills fellow-townsmen, has a surname. 
 Vol. 1—28. 
 
 although it be sunk altogether for the 
 popular cognomen of Show-Jamie — was 
 born in the Canongate, but in what y«ar 
 he knows not: and he isnotquiteconfident 
 as to the precise day or month, although he 
 feels more certainty in his own mind with 
 regard to them, than he does respecting the 
 year. This he told me the other day, when 
 2F 
 
867 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK:— JULY 22. 
 
 868 
 
 1 was asking him, with a view to present 
 you with some hints about him. Little as 
 he seems assured upon these particular 
 points, yet he is certain that he was 
 bred a tailor. He served iaithfully in that 
 peaceful vocation, until the threats of in- ' 
 vasion roused him from inglorious lethar- 
 gy, and he, in an hour of unaccountable 
 excitement, enlisted into the Glengarry 
 Fencibles : what tempted him, he, to this 
 hour, knows not. It is possible that he 
 expected to enjoy a life of comparative 
 idleness, — for labor is that lot of the poor 
 man which Jamie ever has held, and ever 
 will hold, in instinctive abhorrence. But, 
 if such was one motive, he was soon grie- 
 vously convinced of his error, for he 
 found the service absolute slavery : through 
 the day " he was worn out with labor at 
 the drill, and, during the night, he never 
 could sleep, for dreaming of the Serjeant at 
 the parade." — He had by that time lost 
 his father, but his mother was alive, and 
 she grieved much for Jamie's unlooked- 
 for choice of a soldier's life. She alone 
 was the link which held him in his new 
 profession ; and, notwithstanding the cat- 
 o'-nine-tails was guarantee enough that 
 he would not desert, yet he would have 
 ventured upon a great attempt at deliver- 
 ance, by secreting himself until his regi- 
 ment might decamp. He could not, 
 however, so long await the exchange of her 
 kindly affection with his own. Fatigue at 
 last began to wear away the little spirit he 
 ever had; and the struggle he essayed at 
 emancipation, was one worthy of his intel- 
 lect. A. trifling bounty was offered to any 
 young man who would exchange from the 
 Fencibles, into a corps of horse artillery, 
 which was then forming, and which was 
 to be available for service in any part of 
 the united kingdom. Into this corps, there- 
 fore, Jamie entered,— the bounty had its 
 allurements, and a grand persuader was 
 the horse, with the certainty that he would 
 have neither to scour musket or bayonet, 
 in this new section of the service. But, 
 alas 1 Jamie had again reckoned without 
 his hostj for he found that his labor was 
 more than doubled; moreover, he had 
 sword exercise, an amusement fitted 
 above all others to terrify him out of the 
 due exercise of all the thinking faculties 
 he possessed. Providentially for Jamie 
 and his native town, his sight, which was 
 never good, began to fell him, and, this 
 infirmity, coupled with his untowardness, 
 procured his discharge. He then com- 
 menced to carry about " a show," as it is 
 
 termed, — merely a box with a few pictures 
 into which his future associates were in- 
 vited to look, and marvel at the miracles of 
 the magnifying glass. For the last twenty- 
 five years he has, summer and winter, 
 been the gape and gaze of the young, 
 and the buttof the mischievous ; for, with 
 his change of profession, he seems to have 
 laid aside all pretensions to rank as a man, 
 and, weakening in intellect daily, he is 
 rapidly becoming too tame even to yield 
 to his aniioyers any pleasure from teaz- 
 ing him. He has a few beetles in small 
 cases, which he keeps in the leathern box 
 he is here drawn with ; and with these, in 
 very wet weather, he gropes on from door 
 to door, known and pitied by everybody. 
 His mother is still alive, and " poor 
 Jamie,"— than whom a more harmlebs 
 being never lived, — is her only stay. 
 
 A. G.J. 
 Edinburgh, April, 1831. 
 
 Old Vauxhall. 
 
 The author of « A Trip to Vauxhall, or 
 a General Satyr on the Times," London 
 1737, folio, describes his setting out from 
 Whitehall stairs with two ladies — 
 
 Lolling in state with one on cither side. 
 And gently falling with the wind and tide -, 
 Last night, the evening of a sultry day, 
 1 sail'd trinmphant on the liquid way, 
 To hear the fidlers of Spring Gardem play ; 
 To see the walks, orchestra, colonades. 
 The lamps and trees in mingled lights and 
 
 shades. 
 The scene so new, with pleasure and surprise. 
 Feasted awhile our ravish'd ears and eyes. 
 The motley croud we next with care survey 
 The young, the dd, the splenetic and gay ; 
 The fop emasculate, the ru^ed brave, 
 All jumbled here» as in the common grave. 
 
 The poem contains a satirical account 
 of the company, with particular allusions 
 to certain known individuals. There is 
 a frontispiece by. Sutton Nichols repre- 
 sehting Vauxhall Gardens and orchestra 
 at that time, with badged waiters carrying 
 bottles. 
 
 h. m^ 
 
 July 22. Twilight begins . . 2t 
 
 Sun rises . ... 4 5 
 
 — sets .... 7 55 
 
 Twilight ends . .11 39 
 
 Prostrate amaranth flowers 
 
869 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 28,24. 
 
 870 
 
 3JUI» 23. 
 
 Rev. W. Cole's MSS. 
 
 Amongst the manuscripts bequeathed 
 to the British Museum, there are several 
 volumes in the hand writing of the late 
 Rev. W. Cole, rector of Milton, Cam- 
 bridgeshire, who was a man of violent 
 opinions, and, though a minister of the 
 established church, strongly attached to 
 tlie Roman Catholic religion. He direct- 
 ed that these manuscripts should not be 
 opened to the public until thirty years 
 after his decease: the period expired in 
 1803, and they were found to be princi- 
 pally on antiquarian subjects, singularly 
 diversified. Often, on the same page, is a 
 record of an old abbey, a recipe to make 
 soup, a memorandum of the number of a 
 lottery ticket, an entry of the day on 
 which a servant entered on her place or 
 received her wages, or other heterogenous 
 matters, intermingled with sarcasms on 
 protestants, or on the opponents of minis- 
 ters. In volume thirty-three of this col- 
 lection, page 335, in a register de Vicaria 
 de Spalding, is the following important 
 memorandum ; 
 
 " This day I paid my maid-servant ' 
 her wages, and would not let her lodge in 
 my house, as she refused to stay with me 
 till michaelmas, though very inconvenient 
 to me, as I don't know where to provide 
 myself of one in her room : but ' Wilkes 
 and Liberty' have brought things to that 
 pass, that, ere long, we shall get no one 
 to serve us. The said July 23, 1772, 
 sent to the maid, as it might be difficult 
 for her to get a lodging in the village; 
 though she deserved it not." 
 
 There can scarcely be a moreamusinguse 
 of an idle hour, than dipping into Cole's 
 MSS. He was toad-eater to Horace 
 Walpole. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 July 23. Twilight begins . . 31 
 
 Sun rises .... 4 6 
 
 — sets .... 7 54 
 
 Twilight ends . . . 11 29 
 
 African marigold flowers. 
 
 Jargonell, cuisse madame, and Wind- 
 OT pears, ripen. 
 
 SiK, 
 
 3»ttll? 24. 
 
 Toot HiLts. 
 rro Mr. Hon*,] 
 
 Worcester, Marcu 11, J831. 
 
 The able manner in which you have 
 elucidated the antiquities and customs of 
 
 to araw your attention to what, though 
 intimately connected with them, you seem 
 hitherto to have neglected or overlooked, 
 namely, the " Tool Hilh," formerly con- 
 secrated to the worship of the Celtic deity 
 Teutates, many of which still remain, with 
 scarcely any alteration of their designated 
 names, scattered over various parts of the 
 country. I intend to describe two Toot- 
 hills, and to subjoin a list of places in 
 England, where mounds commemorative 
 of Teutates still remain, or where we may 
 conjecture from the derivation of the name 
 such mounds formerly existed j but per- 
 haps a few remarks on the origin of the 
 worship of Teutates in Britain may be 
 necessary. 
 
 Caesar, who is the oldest authority we 
 can refer to, observes in his commentaries, 
 that the youth of Gaul were sent into 
 Britain, as to a most ancient and hallowed 
 school, to be instructed in the Druidical 
 rites ; and it certainly seems most pro- 
 bable that these rites did not originate 
 with the barbarous islanders themselves, 
 but were communicated from some foreign 
 region, as it is indisputable the Phoeni- 
 cians traded with Britain for tin, from the 
 earliest ages. The Rev. W. L. Bowles, 
 in his very interesting work " Hermes 
 Britannicus,"* remarks, that " a question 
 arises whether the discipline of tlie Dru- 
 idical Celts in Britain could possibly be 
 brought by strangers of the ocean ; or, 
 whether they were preserved among the 
 people from their common ancestors in 
 the east; or, whether some Egyptians, by 
 sea or land, had not established them- 
 selves among the ruder nations, and thus 
 given an oriental and peculiar Egyptian 
 character to the druidical worship and rites 
 in this distant land." Mr. Bowles certainly 
 appears to have made out a case for the 
 latter opinion — but, waving this for a 
 moment, and recurring to Cssar, we find 
 that he observes, that Mercury was the 
 chief object of popular veneration among 
 the Britons, that there were " plurima 
 simulacra," many stones or images of this 
 god. Not indeed that the Roman .Mer- 
 cury was actually worshipped by that 
 name before Ceesar's arrival in Britain, 
 but stones being sacred to Mercury among 
 the Greeks and Romans, and Csesar per- 
 ceiving that artificial hills, surmounted by 
 a stone or " simulacrum" were partifcu- 
 larly venerated, he thence concluded that 
 Mercury was the god held in chief esteem. 
 
 * London. Bvo. 1828. J. R. Nicbolls and Son. 
 2 F 2 
 
871 
 
 HE YEAR BOOK^JULY 24. 
 
 C72 
 
 Britain, and especially the « Midsummer 
 Fires," and other pagan relics, prompts me 
 Mr. Payne read a paper before the 
 Royal Society of Literature, in 1829,' in 
 which he identifies the Celtic Teutates 
 with that beiiefpctor of mankind who, 
 from the invention of various useful arts, 
 was worshipped in Egypt and Phrcnicia, 
 under the name of Thoth, in Greece as 
 Hermes, and by the Latins as Mercury. 
 Mr. Payne accounts for the introduction 
 of this personage into Gaul, from the 
 mythological history of the son of Jupiter 
 and Maia, which states that, upon the 
 death of his father, he inherited Spain and 
 Gaul as well as Italy; and, among various 
 proofs of the identity which he attempts 
 to establish, he adduces the fact of the 
 similarity between the temples and monu- 
 ments erected in honour of Mercury by 
 the classical pagan nations, and the cairns 
 and cromlechs of Gaul and Britain. To 
 show the connection between the British 
 Tot or Teut, and the Egyptian Thoth, it 
 may be also remarked that Bruce says the 
 word Tot is Ethiopic, and means the dog- 
 star; now the Egyptians represented 
 Thoth with the head of a dog, and Mr. 
 Bowles remarks, that " the Druids cut 
 the sacred vervain at the rising of the Dog 
 star." Mr. Bowles considers the great 
 Druidlcal Temple at Abury, Wiltshire, to 
 have been dedicated to the worship of 
 Teutates, and Stonehenge to the sun, while 
 a neighbouring hill is still called Tan-hill, 
 as he thinks from Tanaris,* the Celtic 
 God of Thunder. "Thus," says Mr. 
 Mr. Bowles, " there is a visible connec- 
 tion between the scene and the temples, 
 while the sacred fires of the Bel-tine or 
 Tan, communicated with the Bel-tan, on 
 the heights above Stonehenge, dedicated 
 to the Lord of light and day." 
 
 There can be little doubt, at any rate, 
 that the Thoth of Egypt, deified in the 
 Dog-star, was transferred to the Phce- 
 nicians, who derived their astronomical 
 knowledge from Egypt, and who " held 
 their way to our distant shores on account 
 of commerce," thus perhaps leaving some 
 relic of their knowledge behind tliem ; 
 and indeed t|he Egyptian Thoth, the Pboe- 
 
 * A singular corroboratioa of this is that in 
 Cornwa'.l, the " Midsummer Fires" are called 
 Tan-Tat ! (see Polwhele) from which 1 infer 
 that these fires in other places called BeU Tan, 
 flamed from height to height on every mound 
 consecrated to Celtic deities. 
 
 nician Taautus or Taute, the Grecian 
 HerTies, the Koraan Mercury, and the 
 Teutates of the Celts (so called from the 
 Celtic Du Taith, Deus Tajutus) are 
 among the learned universally admitted to 
 be the same. Mercury was also, accord- 
 ing to Tacitus, the god chiefly adored in 
 Germany, to whom on stated days humap 
 victims were offered ; and the god Tuisto 
 (apparently the same styled Mercury by 
 the historian), who was born of the Earth, 
 and Mannus his son, are celebrated in 
 their ancient songs and ballads, as the 
 founders of the German race. 
 
 A stone was the first rude representation 
 of Tuisto, or Teut, and these dedicated 
 stones being placed on eminences natural 
 or artificial, most commonly by road sides, 
 were hence called Tvt-hiUs or Tewi-hills, 
 and in various parts of the kingdom are 
 so called at present. These hills would of 
 course still remain after the Druidical 
 rites were abrogated by the Romans; and, 
 as that people paid especial attention to 
 the genii loci of the countries they con- 
 quered, and, besides, considered these 
 Teut hills as dedicated to their own Mer- 
 cury, they would probably venerate them 
 equaMy with the conquered Briton?. We 
 have just observed from Tacitus,that Tuisto 
 was worshipped by the Germans; and 
 thus it is evident that these Teut-\ii\\i 
 would be regarded with veneratien by the 
 barbarous Saxon conquerors who invaded 
 Britain, and who have given us the name 
 Tuesday to the third day of the week, in 
 commemoration of the worship they paid 
 to Tuisto. Thus we need not be surprised 
 at the number of places in England 
 named from the worship of this deity. 
 "According to my idea," observes Mr. 
 Bowles, « Thoth, Taute, Toute, Tot, Tut, 
 Tad, Ted, Tet, are all derived from the 
 same Celtic root, and are, in names of 
 places in England, indicative of some 
 tumulus or conical hill, dedicated to the 
 great Celtic god, Taute, or Mercury." 
 The reviewer of Mr. Bowles's work, in 
 the Gentleman's Magazine for February, 
 1829, observes — " It is plain, from Livy, 
 that Mercury Exodios or Vialis.was called, 
 among the Celts, Mercury Teutates, and 
 both these tumuli were on the sides of 
 roads. Csesar proves the application ; for 
 he says of the Britons that they made 
 Mercury a guide over the hills and track- 
 ways. Hence the case concerning Toot- 
 hills is very satisfactorily made out." 
 
 Mr. Bowles observes, of his own know- 
 ledge, that many bills on the coast of Dor- 
 
87% 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 84. 
 
 874 
 
 setshirc are still called Teuts ; and also 
 mentions a lofty conical mound with a 
 vast stone on its summit near Wells, now 
 called Cleeve Tout. In Shaw's Stafford- 
 shire, it is said, that " Tutbury probably 
 derives its name from some statue or 
 altar, erected on the castle-hill in the time 
 of the Saxons, to the Gaulish god Tot, or 
 Thoth, Mercury." Tothill Fields, Lon- 
 don, is derived from the same source, 
 though the hill has been destroyed, but it 
 is mentioned thus by Norden, the topo- 
 grapher of Westminster in the reign of 
 Elizabeth — " Tootehill-street, lying on the 
 west part of this cytie, taketh name of a 
 hill near it, which is called Toote-hilf, in 
 the great feyld near the street." So the 
 hill was existing in Norden's time ; and 
 in Rocque's map, 1746, a hill is shown in 
 Tothill-fields, just at a bend in that an- 
 cient causeway, the Horseferry-road. On 
 the east side of Worcester is a Toot-hill 
 of Considerable elevation, which com- 
 mands a grand view over the country ; 
 close adjacent to it is another hill called 
 Helbury-hill (deriving its name probably 
 from Belenus) ; and, till within the 
 last fifteen years both these hills were 
 covered with a thick wood, which bore 
 the general appellation of Helbury Wood. 
 Both hills still remain uncultivated, 
 with nothing but gorse upon them. To 
 direct the superstition of the common 
 people another way, this Tot-hill seems 
 afterwards to have been dedicated to the 
 Virgin Mary ; for at its southern base is a 
 small public-hou3e, known now, and as 
 far as memory can go back, as the " Vir- 
 gin's Tavern." An adjacent hamlet takes 
 its name, Trots-hill, from this eminence, 
 but old maps have it Toot-hill There is 
 another remarkable Toot-hill, which" bears 
 the name of the Mithe Toot, near Tewkes- 
 bury in Gloucestershire, on the summit of 
 a. red marly bank, impending sixty feet 
 above the swelling Severn. The red bank 
 here is natural, but a tumulus-like crest 
 has been heaped upon it, and " the Toot" 
 is still its familiar appellation. What is 
 singular respecting it is, that it is still 
 green sward, and has ever remained so f 
 
 * This agrees with Sir Walter Scott, who in 
 his " Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft," 
 observes — ** In many parishes of Scotland, 
 there was suffered to exist a certain portion of 
 land called the ' Gademan's Croft/ which 
 was never ploughed or cultivated, but suffered 
 to remain waste, like the Temenos of a pagan 
 
 and though surrounded, except towardf 
 the Scivern, by enclosed fielas and an 
 orchard, a public footpath now exists 
 from the town of Tewkesbury up to 
 this Toot-hill, and for no other purpose 
 than as a [path of access to the "Toot." 
 Two or three years ago the turnpike-road, 
 near this Toot-hill, was widened, and the 
 foot-path that led along the road (and 
 thence through a field up to the hill) was 
 taken into the road, thus leaving no access 
 to the public, for the future, to this ancient 
 monument of superstition; but the in- 
 habitants of Tewkesbury raised such an 
 outcry againit this violation of the rights 
 of Teutates, that, to appease them, a new 
 foot-path with stiles,&c., was made through 
 an orchard from the turnpike-road, lead- 
 ing directly to the Toot-hill, where now 
 and for ever any person has a right to go,, 
 and enjoy the beauties of the rich land- 
 scape that presents itself from this emi- 
 nence. 
 
 I have collected the following names of 
 places in England, where either Toot-hills 
 have been, or now exist, or else the name 
 appears to have been derived from some 
 connection with the worship of the Celtic 
 deity. Toot, Tot, Thoth, or Teut, the Teu- 
 tates of Lncan ; and it may be curious for 
 persons who reside in the vicinity of any 
 of the places menttonad, to enquire into 
 any existing relic that may yet remain of 
 this ancient British superstition. 
 
 Hamborough-Teute, Dorset. 
 
 Tote-faill, near Hartington, Northumberland. 
 
 Tatenhill, near Tutbury, Staffordshire. 
 
 Tettenhall, near Wolverhampton, do. 
 
 Tottenhall, north of Worcester. 
 
 Tpdenham, west of do. 
 
 Tewks-hill, near Clebury, Shropshire. 
 
 Towbury-hill, near Twining, Gloucestershire. 
 
 Tottenbani, Middlesex. 
 
 Great Totham, near Witham, Essex. 
 
 Totness, Devon. 
 
 Toddle-hill, Northumberland. 
 
 temple. Though it was not expressly avowed, 
 no one doabted that the Goodman's croft was 
 set apart for some evil being." Further he 
 observes, " Within our inemoiy, many mch 
 places, sanctified to barrenness by some fa- 
 vorite popular superstition, existed both in 
 Wales and Ireland, as well as in Scotland ; 
 but the high price of agricultural produce, 
 during the late war, renders it doubtful if a 
 veneration for grey-bearded superstition has 
 suffered any one of them to remain undese- 
 crated. For the same reason the mount* called 
 Sith Bhraaith were respected." 
 
875 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 24. 
 
 876 
 
 U'od Law, Nortbumberlapd, wfaiiAi, says the 
 
 '- Gazetteei^ *'is a sepiilchral monument com- 
 posed o£ three vast stones/' but more pro- 
 bably in honor of Teutates. 
 
 Toot-hall, near Baldock, Herts. 
 
 Toot-hill, four miles from Epping. ..^sex. 
 
 Toot-hill, 3 miles from Romsey, Hampshire. 
 
 Tooting, Surrey, 5 m. S. W. from London. 
 
 Tot-hill, near Stowmarket, Suffolk. 
 
 Tote-hill, near Ellesmere, Shropshire. 
 
 Tot-hill, near Alford, Lincolnshire, 
 
 Tot-hill, J mile N.E. fVom Plymouth, Devon. 
 
 Tut-hill, 5 miles from Sherborne, Dorset. 
 
 Tcittenhill,Norfolk,6m.from]VIarket,Sownham. 
 
 Totley, Derbyshire. 
 
 Titterstoue Glee-hill, Salop. 
 
 Tolton-hill, n. Alderminster, Worcestershire. 
 
 Mount Todden, St. Mary's, in the Scilly Isles. 
 
 Tetchill^ near EUesmere, Salop. 
 
 tntyford, do. 
 
 Telbuty, Glouc'estershire, 
 
 Tedsmoor, do. 
 
 Tedheth-hills, Montgomeryshire, 
 
 Taflcasttl:, Yorkshire. 
 
 Tad'ow, Cambridgeshire. 
 
 Tadington, Herefordshire 
 
 Taddington, Derbyshire. 
 
 Todraarden, near Halifax, Yorkshire. 
 
 Todmerdon, Lancashire, 
 
 St. Tuidy, Cornwall. 
 
 Tutnall, near Tardybig, Warwiokhsire 
 
 Tuttington, Norfolk, near Aylsbam. 
 
 Tutyford, 5 miles from Oswestry, Salop. 
 
 Tothed, a river in Cardiganshire. 
 
 Totinan's Row, Totmonslow Hundred, near 
 ' Cheadle, StaETordshire. 
 
 Toton, 6 miles S.W, of ^Nottingham 
 
 Tottenham Park, Wiltshire. 
 
 Totteridge, near High Wycombe, Bucks, 
 
 Totteridg'e, near Chipping Barnet, Herts. 
 
 Tottertoh, 3 m. from Bishop's Castle, Salop. 
 
 Xottington, 3 miles from Bury, Lancashire, 
 
 Totton, 4 miles from Southampton. 
 
 Toutlcy Common, Berks. 
 
 Toot-Baldon^ Oxfordshire, 5 m, from Oxford. 
 
 Tew (Great and Little) Oxfordshire. 
 
 Tudhoe, Durham. 
 
 Tuddenhalm, Suffolk. 
 
 Sout-hill, Bedfordshire. 
 
 Sout-hill, Cornwall. 
 
 Bodenhill, near Tenbury, Worcestershire. • 
 
 Dodderhill, near Droitwich, do. 
 
 Doddington Wood, Salop, "a perpendicular 
 height of 122 feet." 
 
 Dodbrook, Devonshire. 
 
 Doddington, — ^There are twelve places of ths 
 name in Cambridgeshire, Gloucestershire, 
 Huntingdonshire, Kent, Lincoln, Northum- 
 berland, Salop, Somerset, and Northampton- 
 shire. 
 Dodley-hill, Bucks. 
 Duddoe, near iBerwick-upon-Tweed. 
 Duddoe-hill, Northumberland. 
 Duddon, Chpshire. 
 Dudley hill, Yoritshilre. 
 
 Dodderhall, Bucks. 
 
 Dodenhall, Warwickshire. — Many othen 
 
 might be adduced if space permitted. 
 
 In numerous instances the worship a 
 Belenus and Teut was united on these 
 Toot-hills, which accounts for Helbury- 
 hill being close to our Toot-hill at Wor- 
 cester; and Mr. Bowles mentions a well 
 in honor of Belenus, or the Sun, at 
 Tottenham, Middlesex, and also at Sul- 
 grave, Northamptonshire, where he says 
 is the sacred well and the consecrated 
 mound. But, besides these Toot-hills, 
 Mr, Toland informs us, in his curious 
 " History of the Druids,"'—" On the tops 
 of mountains and other eminences in 
 Ireland, in WaleS) in Scotland, in the 
 Scottish Islands, and in the Isle of Man, 
 where things have been least disordered 
 or displaced by the frequency of inha- 
 bitants, or want of better ground for cul- 
 tivation, there are great heaps of stones, 
 like the Mebccriai. heaps of the Greeks," 
 These heaps he proceeds to inform us 
 were called Cams, and consecrated to the 
 worship of Beal, or the Sun, where vari- 
 ous " devotional rounds were performed 
 in times Of heathenism, and which are 
 yet continued in many places of the 
 Scottish Highlands." It was from these 
 Cams, and the Toot-hills, and Belenian 
 eminences, that the grand sacred Fires 
 of the Bel-tme flamed thrice a year, at 
 three of the great festivals of ine Druids, 
 in honor of Beal, or the Sun ; viz,, on 
 the eve of May-day, Midsummer-eve, and 
 the eve of the 1st of November. The fol- 
 lowing extracts from Toland, whom I 
 think you have not quoted, will place 
 this in a clear light, and conclude my, 
 perhaps, too tedious communication. 
 
 " On May-eve the Druids made pro- 
 digious fires on those Cams, which being 
 every one, as we said, in sight of some 
 other, could not but afford a glorious 
 show over a whole nation. These fires 
 were in honor of Beal, or Beatan, la- 
 tinized by the Roman authors into Be- 
 lenus, by which name the Gauls and their 
 colonies understood the Sun : and, there- 
 fore, to this hour the first day of May is 
 by the Ab-original Irish called La-Beal- 
 tine, or the day of Beten's fire. 1 re- 
 member one of those Cams on Fawn- 
 hill, within some miles of Londonderry, 
 known by no other name b>Tt that of 
 Bealtine, facing another such Cam on the 
 top of Inch-hill," 
 
 " May-day is likewise called La Beal- 
 tine b" the Highlatiders of Scotland, who 
 
877 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK,-JULY 24. 
 
 878 
 
 are no contemptible part of the Celtic 
 ofTspring. So it is in the Isle- of Man : 
 and in Armoric a priest is still called 
 Belec, or the servant of Bel, and priest- 
 hood Belegieth. Two such fires as we 
 h^ve mentioned were kindled by one 
 another on May-eve in every village of 
 the nation, as well throughout all Gaul 
 as in Britain, Ireland, apd the adjoining 
 lesser isUnda, between which fir^ the 
 men and the beasts to be sacrificed were 
 to pass; from whence came the proverb 
 between Bel's two fires, meaning one in a 
 great strait, not knowing how to extricate 
 himself. One of the fires was on the 
 Carn, another on the ground. On the 
 eve of the first da^ of November (Samb- 
 bhuin) there were also such fi^es kindled, 
 accompanied, as they constantly were, 
 with sacrifices and feasting. These No- 
 vanber fires were in Ireland called Tine 
 tlttch'd-gha, from tladi'd-gha (fire-ground), 
 a place hence so called in Meath, where 
 the Arch-druid of the realm had his fire 
 on the said eve. — On the aforesaid eve 
 all the people of the country, out of a 
 religious persuasion instilled into them by 
 the Druids, extinguished their fires as 
 entirely as the Jews are wont to sweep 
 their houses the night before the feast of 
 unleaveu bread. Then every master of a 
 family was religiously (Aliged, to take a 
 portion of the consecrated fire home, and 
 to kindle the fire anew in his house, 
 which for the ensuing year was to be 
 lucky and prosperous. He was to pay. 
 However, for.his future happiness, whether 
 the event proved answerable or not; and, 
 though his house should be afterwards 
 burnt, yet he must deem it the punish- 
 ment of some new siu, or ascribe it to 
 any thing, rather than to want of virtue 
 in the consecration of the fire, or of vali- 
 dity in the benediction of the Druid. 
 — But, if any man had not cleared with 
 the Druids for the last year's dues, he 
 was neither to have a spark of this holy 
 fire from tfie Cams, nor durst any of his 
 neighbours let him take the benefit of 
 theirs, under pain of excommunication; 
 which, as managed by the Druids, was 
 worse than death. If he would brew, 
 therefore, or bake, or roast, or boil, or 
 warm himself and fiimily; in a word, if 
 he would live the winter out, the Druids 
 dues must be paid by the last of October, 
 wherefore I cannot but admire the address 
 of the Druids, in fixing this ceremony of 
 . rekindling family fires to the beginning of 
 November, rather than May or Midsum- 
 
 mer, when there was an equal oppor> 
 tunity for it. 
 
 " As to this fire-worship, which, by the 
 way, prevailed over all the world, the 
 Celtic nations kindled other fires on Mi4- 
 summer-eve, which are still continued by 
 the Boman Catholics of Ireland ; making 
 them in all their grounds, and carrying 
 flaming brands about their corn-fields. 
 This they do likewise all over France, 
 and in some of the Scottish Isles. These 
 Midsummer fires and sacrifices were to 
 obtain a blessing on the fruits of the 
 earth, now becoming ready for gathering; 
 as those of the first of May, that they 
 might prosperously grow : and those of 
 the last of October were a thanksgiving 
 for finishing their harvest. But in all of 
 them regard was also had to the several de- 
 grees of increase and decrease in the heat 
 of the Sun." 
 
 " To return to our Cam fires, it was 
 customary for the lord of the place, or 
 his son, or some other person of distinc- 
 tion, to take the entrails of the sacrificed 
 animal in his hands, and, walking bare 
 foot over the coals thrice, after the fiames 
 had ceased, to carry them strait to the 
 Druid, who waited in a whole skin at 
 the altar. If the noblemen escaped harm- 
 less, it was reckoned a good omen, and wel- 
 comed with loud acclamations ; but if he 
 received any hurt, it was deemed unlucky 
 both to the community and himself. Thus 
 I have seen the people running and leap- 
 ing through the St. John's fires in Ireland, 
 and not only proud of passing unsinged, 
 but, as if it were some kind of lustration, 
 thinking themselves in a special manner 
 blest by this ceremony, of whose original 
 nevertheless they were wholly ignorant in 
 their imperfect imitation oS it." 
 
 That these rites, sacred to Apollo or the 
 Sun, wero observed even in Italy, the 
 following quotation from Dryden's VirgiL 
 shows ; — 
 
 " O patron of Soracte's high abodet, 
 Phffibus^ the raling pow'r among the gods ! 
 Whom first we serve, whole woods of unctuous 
 
 pine 
 Burn on thy HEAP, and to thy gloiy shine : 
 By thee protected, with our naked soles 
 Thro' flames unsing'd we pass, and tread the 
 
 kindl'd coals." 
 
 Toland remarks, that " we do not read 
 indeed in our Irish books what preserva- 
 tive against fire was used by those who 
 ran barefoot over the burning coals of the 
 Cams ; and, to be sure, they would have 
 the conmon people piously believe tltfy 
 
«t 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY.' 25. 
 
 880 
 
 used none. Yet that they really did, no 
 less than the famous fire-eater whom I 
 lately saw making so great a figure in 
 London, men of penetration and un- 
 corrupted judgments will never question. 
 But we are not merely left to our judg- 
 ments, for the fact is sufficiently attested 
 by that prodigy of knowledge, and per- 
 petual opposer of superstition, Marcus 
 Varro, who, as Servius on the above cited 
 passage of Virgil afiirms, described the 
 Very ointment of which the Hirpins 
 made use, besmearing their Jeet with it, 
 when they walked through the fire." 
 I remain, &c., 
 
 Edwin Lees. 
 
 
 
 h. 
 
 m. 
 
 July 24. 
 
 Twilight begins . . 
 
 
 
 39 
 
 
 Sun rises . . . . 
 
 4 
 
 7 
 
 
 — sets . . . . 
 
 7 
 
 53 
 
 
 Twilipht ends . . . 
 
 11 
 
 21 
 
 Melun 
 
 cresses bear seeds. 
 
 
 
 Strawberries decline, except 
 
 the wood 
 
 strawberry, which bears all the 
 
 summer. 
 
 3JUI» 25. 
 
 Roman Remains near -Eastcheap. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 City, June 10, 1831. 
 
 Sir, — Claiming the privilege of a " Con- 
 stant Reader," I venture to intrude upon 
 your notice a few remarks relative to the 
 relics of antiquity said to have been dis- 
 covered on the city side of the Thames, 
 during the progress of the excavations for 
 the great sewer, in the neighbourhood of 
 the New London Bridge. I believe I 
 may state, without exaggeration, that up- 
 wards of half a peck of Roman coins 
 have been sold by the workmen, to per- 
 sons who have been assured that they 
 were dug up on this interesting spot. 
 I Now, Sir, you may be assured that, in 
 all, not more than a dozen Roman coins 
 have been found on this side of the water, 
 and those which were discovered were so 
 much corroded that, with the exception of 
 two, the portraits and legends could 
 scarcely be distinguished. I am also well 
 convinced that none have been found here 
 posterior to the time Nerva. The follow- 
 ing is a brief list of the principal relics 
 which have been turned up during the 
 last six months :— 
 
 On the site of Crooked-lane, about 
 ten yards south-east of the spot on which 
 the parsonage house stood, a quantity of 
 Roman pavement of the rudest description, 
 
 About seven yards south of the east 
 end of St. Michael's church, a large brass 
 coin of Nerva (sestertius), very much cor- 
 roded. 
 
 Under the east end of the church, two 
 coins in sound brass; one of Nero, the 
 other of Vespasian, and both in tolerable 
 preservation. 
 
 On the site of the houses, just pulled 
 down, onthe north side of Eastcheap, two 
 large brass coins, much corroded ; one of 
 these bore the head of Domitiani but the 
 legend was obliterated; the impression of 
 the other was totally destroyed. 
 
 On the south side of Eastcheap, a small 
 Roman lamp of earthenware, a copper 
 ring of rude workmanship, and a dish of 
 gray earth. The two latter are in my 
 possession. I have also two small lachry- 
 matories of glass, which were dug up on 
 the site of Crooked-lane. There was a 
 vase discovered on the following day, and 
 numerous fragments of Roman pottery 
 and glass, especially of the fine Samian 
 ware, but only two or three specimens of 
 the latter have been found entire. 
 
 I am induced to trouble you with this, 
 because I am aware that gross impositions 
 have been practised upon many whose 
 brains bear no proportion to the depth of 
 their pockets. One gentleman, last week 
 (a member of a learned society too !) pur- 
 chased a lid of a grape jar from a scoun- 
 drel who assured him that he had dug it 
 up with other Roman pottery. This gen- 
 tleman returned with the precious relic 
 on the following day, but could not iden- 
 tify the fellow of whom he had bought it. 
 One more instance and I have done ; a 
 few months since a gentleman actually gave 
 two guineas for a halfpenny of Williahi 
 III., to a laborer employed in excavating. 
 The thing may appear incredible, and 
 requires explanation : the date of the coin 
 (the date !) was, I believe, 1696, but the 
 top of the 6 had been worn away, so 
 that the figures made 1096. As a con- 
 firmation of what I have said respecting 
 the state of the coins found on the city 
 side of the water, I enclose a specimen 
 of one which I saw dug up, though even 
 this is in a more perfect state than the 
 greater part of them. 
 
 I am. Sir, &c., 
 A. 
 
 [The coin which accompanied this commu- 
 nication in a Vespasian, inscritied on the re- 
 verse " AOGDSTI." It is very much corroded, 
 especially at the edge, which, in great part, is 
 reduced to the thinness of writing paper.] 
 
niE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 25.' 
 
 8B-2 
 
 K- ,*:! ;.;) 
 
 « NEW POTATOES !" 
 
 If this were a review, large extracts 
 might be taken from the very amusing 
 '^Legends and Stories of Ireland, by 
 Samuel Lover, R. H. A., with etcliings 
 by the Author, 1831 ;" but the Year Book, 
 abiding by its purpose, and in fairness to 
 Mr. Lover's merry-making little volume,' 
 ventures only upon copying one of his 
 six etchings, and the article belonging to 
 it, as a specimen of the appearance and 
 habiU of a large class of charactersj of 
 both sexes, in the Irish metropolis. — " I 
 promise," says Mr. .Lover, " and give all 
 fastidious persons fair warning, that if a 
 picture from low life be not according to 
 their taste, they can leave it unread, rather 
 than blame me for too much fidelity in 
 my outline. So here goes at a scena, as 
 the Italians say,:" — And here follows Mr. 
 Llover's " Kena," preceded, a? the reader 
 
 sees, by the engraving of the principal 
 performer— one of many that may be seen 
 and heard in public, at this season of the 
 vei>r, in Dublin. — 
 
 " My New PiTTAYATriES !'" 
 [Enter Katty, with a gray cloak, a dirty cap. 
 and a black eye \ a sieve of potatoes on her 
 head, and a " thrifle o' sper'ts" in it. Kat- 
 ty meanders down Pa^ck-street.] 
 
 Katty. — "My new Fittm/ateei ! — My- 
 a-new Pittayatees ! — My new" — 
 
 (Meeting a friend.) 
 Sally, darlin', is that you? 
 - SaUy. Throth its myself; and whatV 
 the matther wid you, Katty? 
 
 Kat. 'Deed ray heart's hruk ■ cryin' 
 
 " JVew pittayatees" cryin' afther that 
 
 vagabone. 
 
 Sil. U it Mik<> ? 
 
883 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 25. 
 
 884 
 
 Kat. Throth its himself indeed. 
 
 Sal. And vrhat is it he done ? 
 
 Kat. Och ! he ruined me with his 
 
 " ^eio pittayc^tee^' — —with his goins-an 
 — the owld thing, my dear — 
 
 Sal. Throwin' up his little finger, I 
 suppose ?* 
 
 Kat. Yis, my darlint: he kem home 
 th' other night, blazin' blind dhrunk, 
 
 cryin' out " New pittoy-a-teet !" 
 
 Toarin' and bawlin', that you'd think he'd 
 rise the roof a£f o' the house. 
 
 " Bad look attind you ; bad cess to 
 you, you pot-wallopin' varmint," says he, 
 (maynin' me, it you plaze) ; " wait till I 
 ketch you, you sthrap, and it's I '11 give 
 
 you your fill iv" ' New pittca/atees !' 
 
 " your fill iv a lickin', if ever you got it," 
 says he. 
 
 So with that, I knew the villian was 
 mulvathered ,"f let alone the heavy fiit o' 
 the miscrayint an the stairs, that a child 
 
 might know he was done for " My 
 
 new pittayatees .'" Throth he was done 
 
 to a turn, like a mutton kidney. 
 
 Sal. Musha ! God hdp you, Katty. 
 
 Kat. Oh, wait tillyoiu hear the ind o' 
 
 my " ]Ve«? pittayatees J" o' my 
 
 throubles, and it's then you'll open your 
 eyes " My tiew pittayatees .'" 
 
 Sal. Oh, bud I pity you. 
 
 Kat. Oh wait — wait, my jewel — wait 
 
 till you hear what became o' " My 
 
 new pittayatees .'" ^wait till I tell you 
 
 the ind iv it. Where did I lave aff ? Oh 
 aye, at the stairs. - - ^ 
 
 Well, as he was comin' up stairs, 
 (knowin' how it 'id be,) I thought it best 
 
 to take care o' my " New pittayatees .'" 
 
 to take care o' myself ; so with that, 
 
 I put the bowlt on the door, betune me 
 and danger, and kcp' listenin' at the key- 
 hole; and sure enough, what should I 
 
 hear, but " New pittayatees!" 
 
 but the vagabone gropin'' his way round 
 the cruked turn in the stair, and tumblin' 
 afther, into the hole in the flure an the 
 landin' ; and whin he come to himself, he 
 gev a thunderin' thump at the door, 
 
 "Who's there?" says I: says he 
 
 " New pittayatees J" " let me in," says 
 
 he, " you vag'abone," (swarein' by what I 
 would'nt mintion,) " or by this and that, 
 I'll massacray you," says he, " within an 
 inch o'— i — " New pittayatees !" with- 
 in an inch o' your life," says he. 
 
 " Mikee, darlint,'' says I, sootherin' 
 him — 
 
 Getting drunk. 
 
 t Intoxicated. 
 
 Sal. Why would you call sitch a 'tar- 
 nal vagabone, darlint? 
 
 Kat. My jew'l, did'ot I tell you I 
 
 thought it best to soother him with a 
 
 " New pittaydteef with a tindher 
 
 word : so says I, " Mikee, you villain, 
 you're disguised," says I, " you're dis- 
 guised, dear," 
 
 " You lie," says he, " you impudent 
 sthrap, I'm not disguised; but, if I'm 
 disguised itself," says he, " I'll make you 
 know the differ," says he. 
 
 Oh ! I thought the life id lave me, when 
 I heerd hiiB say the word ; and with that 
 I put my hand an " My new pittaya- 
 tees!" an the latch o' the door, to 
 
 purvint it from slippin' ; and he ups and 
 be gives a wicked kick at the door, and 
 says he, " If you don't let me in this 
 minit," says he, " I'll be the death o' your 
 
 " New pittayatees .'" o' yourself 
 
 and your dirty breed," says he. Think 
 o' that, SaUy, dear, t' abuse my relations. 
 
 Sal. Oh, the ruffin. 
 
 Kat. Dirty breed, indeed ! By my 
 sowkins, they're as good as his any day 
 in the year, and was never behoulden to 
 
 " New pittayatees !" to go abeg- 
 
 gin' to the mendicity for their dirty—— 
 
 " New pittayatees J" their dirty wash- 
 
 in'so'pDts, and sarvants' lavins, and dogs' 
 bones, all as one as that cnick'd disciple of 
 his mother's cousin's sislber, the ould 
 dhrunken asperseand, as she is. 
 
 Sal. No, in troth, Katty dear. 
 
 Kat. Well, where was I? Oh, aye, I 
 
 left off at " New pittayatees .'" 1 
 
 left off at my dirty breed. Well, at the 
 word " dirty breed," I knew full well the 
 bad dhrop was up in him, and faith it's 
 soon and suddint he made me sinsible av 
 
 it, for the first word he said was 
 
 " New pittayatees .'" the first word he 
 
 said was to put his shouldher to the door, 
 and in he bursted the door, fallin' down 
 
 in the middle o' the flure, cryin' out 
 
 " New pittayatees !" cryin' out, "bad 
 
 luck attind you," says ht ; " how dar you 
 refuse to lit me into my own house, you 
 sthrap," says he, " agin the law o' the 
 land," says he, scramblin' up on his pins 
 agin, as well as he could ; and, as he was 
 
 risin', says 1 « New pittaytees !" 
 
 says I to him (screeching out loud, that 
 the neighbours in the flure below might 
 hear me), " Mikee, my darlint," says I, 
 
 " Keep the pace, you vagabone," says 
 he ; and with that, he hits me a lick av a 
 
 " New pittayatee .'" a lick av a 
 
 stick he had in his hand, and down I foil 
 
885 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 25. 
 
 886 
 
 (and small blame to me), down I fell an 
 
 the flare, oryin' " New pittm/atees !" 
 
 — — cryin' out " Muither ! murther !" 
 
 Sal. Oh, the hangia'-bone villian 1 
 
 Kat. Oh, that's not all ! As I was 
 risin', my jew'l, be was goin' toisthrek me 
 
 agin ; and with that, I cried out 
 
 " New pittayatees!" 1 cried out, " Fair 
 
 play, Mikee," says I ; " don't sthrek a man 
 down ;" but he wouldn't listen to rayson, 
 and was goin' to hit me agin, whin I put 
 up the child that was in my arms betune 
 me and harm. " Look at your babby, 
 Mikee," says I. " How do I know tiiat, 
 you flag-hoppin' jade," says he. (Think 
 o'that, Sally, j«w'l— misdouhtin' my var- 
 tue, and I an honest woman, as I am. 
 God help me !) 
 
 Sal. Oh! bud you're to be pitied, 
 Katty, dear. 
 
 Kat. Well, puttin' up the child betune 
 me and harm, as he was risin' his hand — 
 " Oh !" says I, •' Mikee, darlint, don't 
 sthrek the babby;" but, my dear, before 
 the word was out o' my mouth, he sthruk 
 the babby. (I thought the life id lave 
 me.) And, ir coorse, the poor babby, 
 
 that never spuk a word, began to cry 
 
 " New pittai/atees !" began to cry, 
 
 and roar, and bawl, and no wondher. 
 
 Sal. Oh, the haythen, to sthrek the 
 child. 
 
 Kat. Andy my jeWrel, the neighbours 
 in the flvre below, hearin' the skrimmage, 
 kem runnin' up the stairs, cryin' out- 
 
 New pittayateet i 
 
 cryra out, 
 
 " Watch, watc^! Mikee M'Evoy," says 
 th«y, "would you murther your wife, you 
 vi)lian?" "What's that to jou?" says 
 hie; "isn't she my own?" says he, "and 
 if I plase to make her feel the weight o' 
 
 my^ — "NewpittayOteet !" -the weight 
 
 o' my fist, what's that to you ?" says he ; 
 " its none o' your business any how, so 
 keep your tongue in your jaw, and your 
 toe in your pump, and 'twill be betther 
 
 for your " New pittayatees!" 
 
 'twill be betther for your health, I'm 
 thinkin'," says be ; and with that he look- 
 ed cruked at thim, and squared up to one 
 o' thim — (a poor definceless craythur, a 
 tarflor.) 
 
 " Would you fight your match," says 
 the poor innocent man. 
 
 "Lave my sight," says Mick, " or, by 
 Jingo, I'll put a stitch in your side, my 
 jolly tailor,'' says he. 
 
 -" Yiv put a Stitch in your wig already," 
 says the tailor, " and that '11 do for the 
 present writinV 
 
 And with that, Mikee was ^oin' to lit 
 
 him "with a " New pittayatee .'" a 
 
 lifi-hander ; but he was cotch owld iv, 
 before he could let go his blow ; and who 
 
 should stand up fominst him, but 
 
 " My new pittayatees /" but the tailor's 
 
 wife ; (and, by my sowl, it's she thaf s the 
 sthrapper, and more's the pity she's thrown 
 away upon one o' the sort;) and says she, 
 " let me at him," says she, " it's I that's 
 used to give a man a lickin' every day in 
 the week ; you're bowld on the head now, 
 you vagabone," says she ; " but if I had 
 you alone," says she, " no matther if I 
 
 wouldn't take the consait out o' your 
 
 " New pittayatees .'" out o' your brag- 
 gin' heart ;" and that's the way she wint 
 on ballyraggin' him; and, by gor, they 
 all tuk patthern after her, and abused him, 
 my dear, to that degree, that, I vow to 
 the Lord, the very dogs in the sthreet 
 wouldn't lick his blood. 
 
 Sal. Oh, my blessin' on them. 
 
 Kat. And with that, one and all, they 
 
 began to cry " New pittayatees .'" 
 
 they began to cry him down ; and, at 
 last, they all swore out, " Hell's bells 
 attind your berrin'," says they, " you 
 vagabone," as they just tuk him up by the 
 scuff o' the neck, and threwn him down 
 the stairs: every step he'd take, you'd 
 think he'd brake his neck (Glory be to 
 God !), and so I got rid o' the ruffin ; and 
 then they left me, cryia' " New pit- 
 tayatees .'"o ^ryin' afther the vagabone ; 
 
 though the angels knows well he wasn't 
 desarvin' o' one precious dhrop that fell 
 from my two good-lookin' eyes — and, 
 oh ! bat the condition he left me in. 
 
 Sal, Lord look down an you. 
 
 Kat. And a purty sight it id be, if you 
 could see how I was lyin' in the middle 
 
 o' the flure cryin' " My new pitt<^a- 
 
 tees!" cryin' and roarin', and the 
 
 poor child, with his eye knocked out, in 
 
 the corner, cryin' " New pittayatees !" 
 
 and, indeed, every one in the place was 
 
 cryin' — " New pittayatees! was 
 
 cryin' murther. 
 
 Sal. And no wondher, Katty dear. 
 
 Kat. Oh bud that's not all. If you 
 seen the condition the place was in afther 
 it; it was turned upside down like a 
 beggar's breeches. Throth I'd rather be 
 at a bull-bait than at it, enough to make 
 an honest woman cry " New pittaya- 
 tees .'" to see the daycent room rack'd 
 
 and ruin'd, and my cap tore aff my head 
 into totthers, throth you might riddle bull- 
 dogs through it; and bad luck to the 
 
«87 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 888 
 
 hap'oTth he left me but a few- — " New 
 
 pittayatees !" a few coppers; for the 
 
 morodiQ' thief spint all his " New 
 
 pittayatees !" all his wages o' the whole 
 
 week in raakin' a baste iv himself ; and 
 God knows but that comes aisy to him ; 
 and divil a thing I had to put inside my 
 face, nor a dhrop to dhrink, barrin' a few 
 
 : " New pittayatees .'" a few grains 
 
 o' tay, and the ind iv a quarther o' sugar, 
 and ray eye as big as your fist, and as 
 black as the pot (savin your presence), 
 and a beautiful dish iv " New pittay- 
 atees.'" dish iv delf, that 1 bought 
 
 only last Week in Timple bar, bruk in 
 three halves, in the middle o' the ruction, 
 and the rint o' the room not ped, — and I 
 
 dipindin' only an " New pittayatees!" 
 
 : an cryin' a sieve-full o' pratees, or 
 
 screechin' a lock o' savoys, or the like. 
 
 But I'll not brake your heart any more, 
 Sally dear ;— God's good, and never opens 
 one door, but he shuts another; — and 
 that's the way iv it;— an' strinthins th« 
 
 wake with " New pittayatees!" 
 
 with his purtection ; and may the widdy 
 and the orphin's blessin' be an his name, 
 i pray! — And my thrust is in divine 
 providence, that was always good to me, 
 and sure I don't despair ; but not a night 
 that I kneel down to say my prayers, that 
 
 I don't pray for " New pittayatees .'" 
 
 for all manner o' bad luck to attind 
 that vagabone, Mikee M'Evoy. My curse 
 light an him this blessid minit ; and 
 [A voice at a distance calls, " Potatoes !"'\ 
 
 Kat. Who calls ? — (Perceives her cus- 
 tomer.) — Here ma'am. Good-bye, Sally, 
 darlint — good-bye. " New pittay-a- 
 tees!" 
 
 {Exit Katty by the Cross Poddle.] 
 
 July 25. 
 
 h. m. 
 Twilight begins . . 47 
 Sun rises ....49 
 ' — sets .... 7 52 
 
 Twilight ends . . . 11 13 
 Snapdragon, or toadflax, numerous 
 cultivated sorts, blowing in gardens 
 throughout July, and the next two months. 
 
 SJUlp 26. 
 
 London Register Office. 
 In the infancy of newspapers, the 26th 
 of July, 1656, the « Perfect Picture of 
 Sicte Affairs" published the following 
 
 Advertisement. 
 " There is an Office for generall accom- 
 modation of all people, newly erected 
 and kept at the house of Edward Tooley, 
 Gentleman, Scituate in Basinghall-street 
 neer Blackwell-hall, London. There are 
 several registers there kept, where such 
 persons may enter their names, and desire, 
 that shall at any time have occasion in 
 any of the particulars following, viz. 
 Such as have a desire to Mortgage or sell 
 any Land or Houses, or to let to farm any 
 Land by Lease or yearly Rent in any 
 part of England, or such as desire to be 
 boarded by the year or otherwise, or to 
 take lodgings in, or Country Houses neer 
 the City of London. Or such as shall at 
 any time want able and fit SoUciters to 
 follow any businesse, and likewise such 
 as shall want either men Servants, Ap- 
 prentisses. Clerks, or others, or Maid Ser- 
 vants, or Nurses for Children. There 
 are likewise registers kept to enter the 
 names and places of aboad of all such 
 as shall desire to buy Land or houses, 
 or to let out money upon Mortgage, or 
 to take to farm any Land, or to take 
 Countrey Houses about the City, or Lodg- 
 ings in the City, or to take any to board ; 
 and likewise for all Servants that shall 
 any time want a Service, and make their 
 desires known at the said Office. By 
 which means people may easily come to 
 the knowledge one of the other, and their 
 Several necessities andoccasionsbe speedily 
 supplyed. — And likewise all Ministers' 
 Widdows, and others, that have Studies 
 of Books to sell at second hand, may at 
 the said Office give in a Catalogue of 
 their Books, and such as want any Books 
 scarce to be come by, may upon their 
 repair to the said Office view the said 
 Catalogues, and very probably know 
 where to be supplyed." 
 
 Court Games and Diversions. 
 Temp, Charles IL 
 [Fop the Year Book.] 
 
 In 1660 we find Pepys saying, "After 
 supper my lord sent for me, intending to 
 play at cards with him, but I not knowing 
 cribbage we fell into discourse." Then, 
 " after my lord had done playing at m'ne- 
 pins." Afterwards " to the Mitre Tavern, 
 here some of us fell to handycapp, a sport 
 that I never knew before." Next year, 
 " played with our wives at bowles." 
 
889 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JUL^X 27. 
 
 890 
 
 Again : " I saw otter-htmting with the 
 king." Then : « To St. James's Park, 
 where I saw the Duke of York playing 
 at peletnele, the first time that ever I saw 
 the sport." In 1662 "to WhitehaU 
 garden, where lords and ladies are now at 
 bowles." In January of the same year, 
 Evelyn says, " his majesty as usual opened 
 the revelU of the night by throwing the 
 dice himself in the privy chamber. The 
 ladies also played deep. I came away 
 when the Duke of Ormond had won 
 £1000, and left them still at passage, 
 cards, Sec. &c., at other tables." He next 
 notices " a grand masque at Lincoln's 
 Inn." And, " December 1, saw the 
 strange and wonderful dexterity of the 
 sliders on the new canal in St. James's 
 Park, performed before their majesties by 
 divers gentlemen with scheets after the 
 manner of the Hollanders." In the same 
 month Pepys makes a similar observation : 
 « Over the park, where I first in my life, 
 it being a great frost, did see people with 
 their skeates sliding, which is a very 
 pretty art." In the ensuing May, Pepys 
 went " to nine-pins." In December he 
 "saw the king playing at tennis," and 
 went "to Shoe Lane to see a cock- 
 fighting." In January following, Pepys 
 notes his going " to St. James's Park 
 seeing people play aXpell mell (pall mall) 
 — where it pleased mt to hear a gallant 
 swear at one of his companions for suf- 
 fering his man (a spruce blade) to be so 
 saucy as to strike a ball while his master 
 was playing on the mall." In June we 
 find this entry — " With my wife to Hack- 
 ney, played at shuffieboard, eat cream and 
 good cherries ;" and in July " my lady 
 Wright, and all of iis, to billiards." In 
 March, 1668, Evelyn "found the Duke 
 and Duchess of York, Lady Castlemaine, 
 and other great ladies, playing at I love 
 my love with an A." On the 16th of June, 
 1670, Evelyn went "to the bear garden, 
 where was cock-fighting, with a dog- 
 fighting, beare and ball-baiting ; — it 
 being a famous day for butcherly sports, 
 or rather barbarous cruelties." Evelyn 
 says, again, in October, 1671, " we went 
 hunting and hawking," and " in the after- 
 noon to cards and dice." In 1672 we 
 find Evelyn "after dinner at Leicester- 
 house with Lady Sunderland, where was 
 Richardson the famous fire-eaier shewing 
 his feats." 
 
 J. S. 
 
 Morley, neiir Leeda. 
 
 July 26. Twilight begins 
 Sun rises . . 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends . 
 Holyhock flowers. 
 Perennial sun-flower flowers. 
 Flies numerous and troublesome. 
 
 h, m. 
 56 
 4 10 
 7 50 
 11 4 
 
 gfUlfi 27. 
 
 27th July, 1747, died the rev. Nicholas 
 Tindal, a translator and continuator of 
 Rapin's History of England. He became 
 a Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford, and 
 was reduced to pecuniary inconvenience ; 
 but by clerical preferment he was at dif- 
 ferent times rector of Alverstoke, Hants ; 
 vicar of Great Waltham, in Essex ; chap- 
 lain in the bay of Revel, on board the 
 Torbay ; assistant chaplain to the factory 
 at Lisbon ; rectory of Colboume, in the 
 Isle of Wight ; and at length chaplain of 
 Greenwich Hospital. His literary labors 
 were numerous, and chiefly carried on in 
 conjunction with the rev. Philip Morant. 
 Their diligence was great ; but Mo- 
 rant, a native of Guernsey or Jersey, 
 scarcely knew French or English gram- 
 matically, and wrote a compound of both. 
 Tindal published Morant's translation of 
 De Beausobre and L'Enfant's Notes of 
 St. Matthew's Gospel, and commenced 
 the History of Essex, which he afterwards 
 resigned to Morant, probably because he 
 exchanged his preferment there; while 
 Morant obtained St. Mary's, Colchester, 
 and Aldham, both in that county. They 
 afterwards joined in that vast concern, tlie 
 translation of Rapin's History of Eng- 
 land, with a continuation ; and the work 
 sold so well, that the publishers, the 
 Knaptons, made them a present of 
 £200. Tindal was engaged in several 
 other works. He died at a very advanced 
 age at Greenwich hospital, where he was 
 buried in the new cemetery.* 
 
 " Black's the White of my Eye." 
 
 It is common with vulgar women, while 
 quarrelling, for one to exclaim to the other, 
 " Yon cannot say black's the white of my 
 eye!" meaning that nobody can justly 
 speak ill of her. 
 
 Mr. Brand has no doubt that this ex- 
 pression originated in the popular super- 
 
 • Noble 
 
891 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 28. 
 
 892 
 
 stition concerning an evil eye, tbat is, an 
 enchanting or bewitching eye. In con- 
 firmation of this tie cites the following 
 passage from Scot's " Discovery of Witch- 
 craft," p. 291. "Many writers agree 
 with Virgil and Theocritus in the effect 
 of bewitching eyes, affirming that in 
 Scythia there are women, called Bithise, 
 having two balls, or rather Blacks, in the 
 apples of their eyes. These, (forsooth,) 
 with their angry looks, do bewitch and 
 hurt." Mr. Brand adds an anecdote, 
 " Going once to visit the remains of 
 Brinkbume Abbey, in Northumberland, 
 I found a reputed witch in a lonely cot- 
 tage by the side of a wood, where the pa- 
 rish had placed her to save expenses, and 
 keep her out of the way. On enquiry at 
 a neighbouring farm-house, I was told, 
 though I was a long while before I could 
 elicit any thing from the inhabitants in it 
 concerning her, that every body was afraid 
 of her cat, and that she was herself thought 
 to have an ' evil eye,' and that it was ac- 
 counted dangerous to meet her in a morn- 
 ing ' iZac/c-fasting.' " 
 
 July 27. 
 
 Twilight begins . 
 
 . 1 
 
 m. 
 3 
 
 
 Sun rises ... 
 
 . 4 
 
 11 
 
 
 — sets ... 
 
 . 7 
 
 49 
 
 
 Twilight ends . . 
 
 . 10 
 
 57 
 
 Garder 
 
 1 Chrysanthemums flower. 
 
 
 Purple 
 
 willow-herb flowers. 
 
 
 
 Uulp 28. 
 
 Oliver Cromwell. 
 28th July, 1655. — In the appendix to 
 Mr. Scatcherd's " History of Morley, near 
 Leeds," he presents the two following 
 remarkable papers, in illustration of his 
 view of Cromwell's real character. 
 " To HIS Highsess, the Lord Pro- 
 tector of the Commonwealth of Eng- 
 land, Scotland, and Ireland. 
 " The humble Petition of Mar- 
 gery, the wife of William Bea- 
 ch am, mariner, 
 " Sheweth, 
 
 " That your Petitioner's husband 
 hath been active and faithful in the wars 
 of this Commonwealth, both by sea and 
 land, and hath undergone many hazards 
 by imprisonment and fights, to the en- 
 dangering his life, and at last lost the use 
 of his right arm, and is utterly disabled 
 from future service, as doth appear from 
 the certificate annexed ; and yet he hath 
 no more than forty shillings from Chatham 
 by the year. 
 
 '• That your petitioner hAving only one 
 soc. who is tractable to learn, and not 
 having wherewith to bring him up, by 
 reason of their present low state occa- 
 sioned by the public service aforesaidj 
 " Humbly proyeth — That your High- 
 ness would vouchsafe to present 
 her said son Randolph Beacham, 
 to be a scholar in Sutton's Hos- 
 pital, called the Charter-house." 
 (Indorsed.) 
 "OLIVER P. 
 
 " We refer this Petition and Certificate to 
 tlie CommissioaerS for Sutton's Hospital, July 
 28, 1655." 
 
 With the above Petition, Cromwell 
 sent to his secretary the following 
 
 Letter. 
 
 " You received from me, this 28th 
 instant, a Petition of Margery Beacham, 
 desiring the admission of her son into the 
 Charter-house. I know the man, .who 
 was employed one day in an important 
 secret service, which he did effectually to 
 our great benefit and the Commonwealth's, 
 The Petition is a brief relation of a fact 
 without any flattery. I have wrote und^r 
 it a common leference to the Commis- 
 sioners, but I mean a great deal more — 
 that it shall be done without their debate 
 or consultation of the matter; and so do 
 you privataly hint to 
 
 " I have not the particular shining 
 bauble, ot feather in my cap for crowds to 
 gaze at, or kneel to ; but I have power 
 aiid lesolution to make the Nations trem- 
 ble. To be short, I know how to deny 
 Petitions ; and, whatever I think proper 
 for outward form to refer to any officer or 
 office, I expect that such my compliance 
 with custom shall be also looked upon as 
 an indication of my will and pleasure to 
 have the thing done. See, therefore, that 
 the boy is admitted. 
 
 « Thy true friend, 
 
 OLIVER P." 
 
 Upon the "feather in my cap," Mr. 
 Scatcherd adds, from Burton's Diary, ii. 
 383, that, in Cromwell's answer to the 
 address from the army, touching the ac- 
 ceptance of the kingly office, he told them 
 " that, for his part, he loved the title — 'a 
 feather in a hat' — as little as they did:" 
 and, from Ludlow's Memoirs, it. 586, 
 that " Cromwell said, it was but ' afeather 
 in a man's cap,' and therefore he wondered 
 
893 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 3i. 
 
 894 
 
 that men would not please the children, 
 and pencit them to enjoy the rattle." * 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 28. Twilight begins . 
 
 . 1 9 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 . 4 13 
 
 sets . . 
 
 . r 47 
 
 Twilight ends . . 
 
 . 10 51 
 
 ountain-ash flowers. 
 
 
 SJttlfi 29. 
 
 29th July, 1822. — ^The cordwainers of 
 Newcastle celebrated the feast of St. 
 Crispin, by holding a coronation of their 
 patron saint, and afterwards walking in 
 procession. The coronation took place in 
 the court of the Freemen's Hospital, at 
 the Westgate, at 11' o'clock, and soon 
 after twelve the procession moved forward 
 through the principal streets of that town 
 and Gateshead, and finally halted at the 
 sign of the Chancellor's Head, in New- 
 gate-street, where the members of the 
 trade partook of a dinner. There 
 had not been a similar exhibition at New- 
 castle since the year 1789. f 
 
 h. m. 
 
 JulyZQ. Twilight begins . . 1 14 
 
 Sun rises .... 4 14 
 
 sets .... 7 46 
 
 Twilight ends . . . 10 46 
 
 Roses and pinks go out of flower. 
 
 miv 30- 
 
 On the 30th of July, 1588, Sir William 
 Stewart was slain at Edinburgh, by the 
 earl of Bothwell, who was the most famed 
 disturber of the public peace in those 
 times. The quarrel had arisen on a for- 
 mer occasion, on account of some de- 
 spiteful language used by Sir, William, 
 when the fiery earl vowed the destruction 
 of his enemy in words too shocking to be 
 repeated. He met with Sir William by 
 chance in Blackfi:iars' Wynd, and avow- 
 ing revenge drew his sword ; Sir William 
 standing upon his defence with his back 
 to the wall, Bothwell thrust his raTjier 
 
 • Scatcheid's History of Morley, 833 ; — in 
 which vork are many original particalais re- 
 specting Cromwell's officers, and his engage- 
 ments in the north. 
 
 t Sykes's Local Records. 
 
 into his back and out forwards, and killed 
 him. Ten.years afterwards one Robert 
 Cathcart, who had been with the earl oi 
 Bothwell on this occasion, though it does 
 not appesr that he took an active hand in 
 the murder, was slain in revenge by Wil- 
 liam Stewart, son of the deceased, while 
 standing inoffensively at the wall in the 
 head of Peebles Wynd, near the Tron. • 
 
 h. m. 
 
 July 30. Twilight begins . . 1 17 
 
 Sun rises . . . , 4 16 
 
 — sets .... 7 44 
 
 Twilight ends . . . 10 43 
 
 White mullein, and most of this species 
 
 in full flower. 
 
 3JUl» 31. 
 
 Eton Electiob Saturday. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Thi<i aquatic ceremony at Eton occurs, 
 at the latest, on the Saturday before the 
 last Monday in July ; and ends what is 
 called election week, during which boys 
 are elected as " king's scholars" into Eton 
 College, and king's scholars are chosen as 
 students for King's College, Cambridge. 
 The Monday which regulates it is Speech 
 and Breaking up Day at Eton; the 
 speeches not very numerously attended, 
 as there is not much room for company, 
 and they are with scarcely any exception 
 in the Latin langus^e, a tongue not very 
 intelligible, especially when spoken ; since 
 most of the company who chiefly desire 
 to visit them, are the parents and friends 
 of the students, and a mixed audience. 
 
 The ceremony which is intended as a 
 rejoicing for the holidays is identically 
 the same as that described on the 4th of 
 June; instead however of G. R., it is 
 itow W. R. at election, that is, the initials 
 then put up are those of the ruling mo- 
 narch. 
 
 PiLGARLIC. 
 
 Mag, 1831. 
 
 Mathematics. 
 A Challenge to all England. 
 If any man can resolve the folloviring 
 problem, let him send his answer (postage 
 
 Said) to me, and I will inform the public. 
 F. B. I will not have an interview with 
 
 any one. 
 Problim.' 
 
 -To divide any given number 
 
 • Chambers's Traditions of Edinburgh, i, I'H, 
 
895 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 31. 
 
 896 
 
 (say 21) into ten different numbers, as 
 follow : — 
 
 The two first numbers are to be sucli, 
 that, if you square the sum of the greater 
 and lesser, it will equal the sum of the 
 squares of each, with twice the product 
 of the two first. The next three num- 
 bers are to be such, that, if you multiply 
 the sum of the greater and lesser numbers 
 by the next greater number, and to this 
 product add the square of the lesser num- 
 ber, it will equal the square of the 
 greater number. The next two numbers 
 are to be such, that, if to the square of 
 their sum, yoii add the square of the lesser 
 number, it will equal the sum of the two 
 multiplied by the lesser; to the double of 
 which product you must add the square 
 of the greater ; also, they are to be two 
 such numbers; that if their product be 
 added to the sum of their squares, it shall 
 make a square number. The three last 
 numbers are to be such, that, if to the 
 square of the sum of the two greater 
 numbers you add the square of the lesser 
 Dumber, it will double the sum of the 
 squares of the greater numbers; moreT 
 over, if you square the sum of the third 
 and ninth numbers, and also add the sum 
 of the squares of the 5th and 8th num- 
 bers, the sum of the squares of the whole 
 shall be a square number ; but if you 
 cube the fourth, fifth, and eighth numbers, 
 the sum of their cubes shall be a .cube 
 number-— required the ten numbers. 
 
 G. F. A. B. 
 
 3, NorthaInpton-stI^et, Clerkeiiwell, 
 Tuesday, 7th Dec, 1830. 
 
 The preceding nfitice has been in shops, 
 publicly situated, for more than a year 
 and a half, and still remains without an 
 answer. It is inserted here as contain- 
 ing an exercise for the ingenious in 
 figures, and to further the desire of G. F. 
 A. B. for a solution. — Jidy 1831. 
 
 h. m. 
 July 31. Twilight begins . . 1 20 
 
 Sun rises 4 17 
 
 sets .... 7 43 
 Twilight ends . . - 10 40 
 Forster's hawkweed flowers. 
 Uragon-flies common about waters. 
 
 Babies in the Eves. 
 
 Lovers looking into each others eyes, 
 and seeing reflections of their own faces 
 in the:pupils, are said to see, "babies in 
 the eyes.". . 
 
 In the " History of Philocles and Dori- 
 clea, two . Lancashire lovers, 1640," Ca- 
 millus wooing his mistress, tells her, " We 
 will ga to the dawnes, and slubber up a 
 sillibub ; and I will look babies in your 
 eyes." Herrick, in an address to virgins 
 says — 
 
 Be ye lockt up like to these. 
 Or the rich Hesperides ; 
 Or those babies in your eyes. 
 In their ohrystal nunneries ; 
 Notwithstanding, love will win. 
 Or else force a passage, in. 
 
 ; The same poet says, of Susanna South- 
 well : — 
 
 Clear are her eyes. 
 Like purest skies, 
 
 . ^Discovering from thence 
 'A-baby there, 
 ' ' That turns each sphere 
 ' Like an intelligence. 
 
 Reflections — Written iji a Bo'ok or 
 
 Miscellaneous Articles. 
 
 How like the map that marks mytvaried way 
 
 Through life, these pages seem ! 
 A speckled piece^ — a mix'd display 
 Of sadness, dulness, passion j. pain, andplav ; 
 One heap of sound — one variegated dream. 
 
 How many a passion difficult ; and there 
 
 Loud flourishes that leave, 
 On all who hear their notes, the mere 
 Remembrance of their noise ; and now 
 
 appear 
 Movements and times to teach me how to grieve. 
 
 Here love's enchanting strains, whose stops 
 and harSf 
 
 And melting cadences. 
 Bring long lost echoes to my ears 
 Of sounds, which oft have hung upon my 
 tears 
 And weigh*d them down — pure drops of ' 
 .ecstacies. 
 
 Like these mix'd pages I can read my Ijfp, 
 
 In fancy hear its echoes play — • 
 Its hurried chords — its passion's strife — 
 Those sweet deceptive flights with which 
 'twas rife. 
 
 Transient as sound, but matk'd on memory 
 
8or 
 
 THE YEAU BOOK.— AlUUSr. 
 
 093 
 
 AUGUST. 
 
 Vol. I.— 29, 
 
 The fields are all alive with sultry noise 
 Of labor's sounds, and insects' bnsy joys ; 
 The reapers o'er their glittering sickles stoop, 
 Startling full oft the partridge coveys up ; 
 Some o'er the rustling scythe go bending on ; 
 And shockers follow where their toils have gon^ 
 Heaping the swaths that rustle in the sun 
 
 Clare's Slifplierd's Calendar. 
 2 G 
 
699 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST. 
 
 900 
 
 A description of the glories of this 
 month^the forerunner of bounteous au- 
 tumn — would be a volume of splendid 
 beauties': it is, for the most part, ex- 
 ecuted -by the " British Naturalist;" but 
 before recurring to its pages, it may 
 be proper to extract a few impressive sen- 
 tences from an article in Blackwood's 
 Magazine for July, 1831 : — " Our moral 
 being owes deep obligations to all who 
 assist us to study nature .aright; for, be- 
 lieve us, it is high and rare knowledge to 
 know, and to have, the full and true use 
 of our eyes. Millions go to the grave in 
 old age without ^ver having learned it ; 
 they were just beginning perhaps to ac- 
 ijuire it, when they sighed to think that 
 ' they who look out of the windows were 
 darkened ; ' and that, while they had been 
 instructed how to look, sad shadows had 
 fSUen on {he whole face of nature f and 
 that the time for those intuitions was 
 gone for ever. But the science of seeing 
 has novt found favor in our eyes ; and 
 ' blessings are with them and eternal 
 praise,' who can discover, discern, and 
 ■describe the least as the greatest of na- 
 ture's works ; who can see as distinctly the 
 iinger <d. God in the little humming-bird 
 murmuring round a rose-bush, as in that 
 of '.the star of Jove, so beautiful and 
 Jarge,' shining sole in heaven — Take up 
 now almost any book you may, or any 
 branch of natural history, and instead of 
 the endless dry details of imaginary sys- 
 tems and classifications, in which the lu- 
 -dicrous littleness of man's vain ingenuity 
 used to be set up as a sort of symbolical 
 scheme of revelation of the subliracva- 
 rieties of the inferior — as wf choose to 
 call it — creation of God, you find high 
 attempts in a humble spirit rather to 
 illustrate tendencies, and uses, and har- 
 monies, and order, and design. — Take up, 
 we say, what book you will, and such is 
 its spirit. There, for example, are those 
 two unpretending but enlightened vo- 
 lumes, the British Naturalist, by Mr. 
 Mudie, which, we need not add, we re- 
 commend to all students." — 
 
 Resorting, then, to the " enlightened 
 volume — t\ieBritish Naturalist — " for one 
 or two striking peouliarities of high sum- 
 tmer, a paragraph on a phenomenon of 
 heat is first extracted ; and then another on 
 lie " cool sound of gushing waters" — 
 • Mirage. 
 
 As the heat of the day increases, the 
 land wind, which during the night is 
 steady near the shore, when the weather 
 
 is serene and settled subsides to a calm ; 
 the surface of the water in the offing be- 
 comes as smooth as glass, and the vessels 
 " loom out," as if they were lifted into 
 t'ne air ; masts and sails that were not be- 
 fore visible come in sight, without ap- 
 proaching any nearer in distance; and 
 some of the air-suspended vessels throw 
 their whole inverted reflections upon tlie 
 water, as if two ships, the counterparts of 
 each other, were suspended keel to keel, 
 or supported on the top of the masts. 
 Sometimes, also, a ship which is in reality 
 wholly hidden by the convexity of the 
 sea, will appear in the air, in an inverted 
 position; sometimes a second ship will 
 be formed immediately over the first, but 
 always reversed with respect to it ; and 
 these will sometimes be in contact, some- 
 times at some distance from each other, 
 and sometimes the lower ship that has 
 the keel uppermost will seem as if only a 
 part of her masts and sails were above 
 the horizon. In particular states of the 
 atmosphere, coasts and castles, and even 
 considerable portions of scenery, which 
 are without the range of the sea horizon, 
 will appear inverted in the air ; and, 
 under peculiar circumstances, those images 
 may be found vertically as well as hori- 
 zontally. — All these, though to the unre- 
 flecting they appear prodigies, are modi- 
 fications of that very simple cause by 
 which the moon shines, or one sees one's 
 face in a mirror; and they 'bre indications 
 that the air where they take place is very 
 much loaded by vapor, so much so, that, 
 .though not so collected into masses as to 
 be visible in a state of haze or fog, it is 
 probably as abundant in quantity within 
 in equal space, and thus forms an in- 
 visible mirror, from which the images are 
 reflected. The same thing in principle 
 happens every morning and evening: the 
 refraction of the atmosphere (and refrac- 
 tion is but a minor kind of reflection) 
 brings the sun before it actually comes to- . 
 the horizon, retains it after it is actually 
 below, and occasions the twilight which 
 both precedes and follows the actual pre- 
 sence of the sun. Those refractive powers 
 are always the greater the more com- 
 pletely that the atmosphere is loaded 
 with moisture, and the more free that it is 
 from agitation by the winds, the action of 
 which prevents the formation of the 
 image, in the same manner that a lake 
 does not repeat the scenery on its banks 
 when the breeze rufBes its surface, or that 
 one cannot see the reflection of one's fa«!e 
 
•901 
 
 Thp. year book.— august. 
 
 902 
 
 in a piece of black broai'.-clotli or velvet, 
 in the same way as in a smoothly var- 
 nished panel, or a piece of polished 
 marble. — The formation of these curious 
 images does not take place when the pro- 
 cess of evaporation is the most rapid, be- 
 cause the ascent of the particles of water 
 in a state of vapor at such times pre- 
 vents the formation of the image, by pro- 
 ducing a certain tremulous motion in the 
 air, which has much the same etiect as 
 vrind. Evaporation always occasions an 
 indistinctness even in direct vision ; and 
 on those fine summer days when there is 
 a flickering play along the tops of the 
 different elevations, as if there were a 
 spirit walking the earth, of which the mo- 
 tion could be seen but not the form, the 
 outlines of objects are much worse de- 
 fined, and small and distant ones are 
 much less distinctly seen, than when the 
 air ceases to take up moisture. Thus 
 vision becomes a sort of weather glass ; 
 and if, in the course of fine summer 
 weather, distant objects, and the distant 
 horizon, become more than usually dis- 
 tinct, if that does not obviously depend 
 upon some local cause, it is one of the 
 most unerring signs of rain.* 
 
 Cascades. 
 
 ^The summer day has its scenes of 
 
 pleasure and profit in the sultry hour; for 
 it is then that both man and the animals 
 find refreshment in the grove, by the 
 murmuring stream, or the sounding cas- 
 cade. The latter especially, as there a 
 hot day has all the effect of a shower 
 upon the surrounding vegetation. The 
 water, if tlie fall has much altitude, falls 
 in drops and pencils, all sides of which 
 coifie in contact with the air, which eva- 
 porates a very considerable portion of 
 their volume ; and, even though the alti- 
 tude be not so great as to occasion a 
 cloud of vapor which can fall vertically 
 upon the yegetatipn in a perpetual 
 shower, the air, which descends and con- 
 denses over the falling water, hurries 
 towards the warmer su^ce around in a 
 perceptible breeze, blowing outward in all 
 directions, and refreshing the vegetation 
 for a space proportioned to the height of 
 the fall and the quantity of water. A 
 wind may be always felt blowing out of 
 the chasm or cauldron into which a 
 stream precipitates itself; but, though that 
 wind be constant, it produces a very dif- 
 
 * Biitish Naturalist, ii. 281. 
 
 ferent appearance on vegetation from ihat 
 produced by the generality of permanent 
 winds. The trees and shrubs bend from 
 these, and are dwarfed and stunted by 
 them ; but they extend their twigs, and 
 are fresher in their leaves on the side next 
 the waterfall. In such places their dura- 
 tion is also increased ; and a tree which 
 has the advantage of this constant water- 
 ing upon the leaves is much less de- 
 pendent upoii the roots, and_ therefore will 
 continue to show vigorous' leaves after 
 the trunk is much more hollowed and 
 consumed by age. Those places that are 
 most favorable to vqo^ation are also 
 most favorable to animal life, though they 
 may not be most healthy for man and 
 those animals that resemble man the 
 most in their structure and economy. 
 This holds true with regard to the vicinity 
 of Cascades, which, except to a few jjfe- 
 culiar species, are the places in which to 
 seek the animals as well as the plants of 
 an alpine region. There are no places in 
 this country where waterfalls do not 
 chronicle the lapse of a very considerable 
 number of years ; and sometimes the ra- 
 vine that they have worn extends miles in 
 length ; nay, there are many ^stances 
 where the action of the stream can be 
 traced for several miles, quite through a 
 ridge, .so that the cascade which had been 
 gradually increasing in height for the one 
 half of its course, and diminishing for the 
 other, has now worked down to the lowest 
 part of the lake from which it had iu 
 origin. 
 
 Thus, wherever there is a cascade, we 
 may be sure that it is an ancient thing, 
 and that the plants and the animals have 
 had time to accommodate themselves to 
 it; and, consequently, that where at- 
 tempts have not been made to alter it by 
 art, it is a faithful index to nature, at the 
 same time that it is a collector. There 
 are many places where, amid the dark de- 
 solation of a surface showing nothing but 
 heath, and where there is.no sign of life, 
 but the melancholy chirp of one little 
 bird, a cascade with its dell, its dtipping 
 rocks, and its caverned banks, will contain 
 a rich cabinet of botany and zoology, 
 where a stranger would never think of 
 looking for them. 
 
 In so far as animals are concerned, 
 there are also some peculiar advantages in 
 the vicinity of a cascade, especi^^y if it 
 be upon a grand scale. There is a power 
 in the ear of animals, as well as in that of 
 man, to accommodate itself to a pernia- 
 
 2 G a 
 
903 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST. 
 
 904 
 
 nent sound. Sailors can converse to- 
 gether amid the roaring of the wind and 
 waves, and so can the people in a manu- 
 factory, the booming, rattling, and thump- 
 ing of which are enough to make a 
 stranger deaf. But still the noise must 
 have some effect, and even they who have 
 been accustomed to it the longest cannot 
 possibly hear so well as if it were not 
 there, and the difficulty must be greater 
 in the case of a strange sound than of one 
 with which they are familiar. There are 
 some British inhabitants of the wood that 
 we have never been able to come so near, 
 and watch so long, as among the nigged 
 trees by the side of a waterfall, to which 
 we had escaped from the intense heat of 
 the sun upon the hill above. There is 
 then nothing of the music of the birds, 
 because that is drowned in the thunder 
 of the falling flood ; but that and the de- 
 lightful freshness, and the fragrance of the 
 birches, of which there is usually a consi- 
 derable mixture among the other trees 
 around a highland waterfall, the more 
 aged ones sweeping and waving their long 
 dependent twigs in the stream, make 
 ample recompense.* 
 
 istent and twin birth with reason, is 
 among the earliest of her offspring ; and 
 that from these conjoined, and under their 
 countenance, the human affections are 
 gradually formed and opened out. 
 
 Wordsworth, 
 
 l"he minds of very young children me- 
 ditate feelingly upon death and immorta- 
 lity, and those inquiries, which we all know 
 they are perpetually making concerning 
 Ihe whence, do necessarily include cor- 
 respondent habits of interrogation con- 
 cerning the whither. Origin and ten- 
 dency are notions inseparably co-relative. 
 Never did a child stand by the side of a 
 running stream, pondering within himself 
 what power was the feeder of the perpe- 
 tual current, from what never- wearied 
 sources the body of water was supplied, 
 but he must have been inevitably pro- 
 pelled to follow this question by another : 
 "towards what abyss is it in progress? 
 what receptacle can contain the mighty 
 influx?'' And the spirit of the answer 
 Must have been, though the word might 
 be sea or ocean, accompanied perhaps 
 with an image gathered from a map, or 
 from the real object in nature — these 
 niight hare been the letter, but the spirit 
 of the answer must have been as inevit- 
 ably — a receptacle without bounds or di- 
 mensions — nothing less than infinity. We 
 tmay, then, be justified in asserting that 
 he sense of immortality, if not a co-ex- 
 
 • Bra d. 
 
 Verses by Lore Byron. 
 Written at Seventeen. 
 
 I would I were a careless child. 
 
 Still dwelling in my Highland cave. 
 Or roaming through the dusky vild. 
 
 Or hounding o'er the dark blue wave : 
 The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride 
 
 Accords not with the freebom soul. 
 Which loves the mountain's craggy side. 
 
 And seeks the rocks where billows roll. 
 
 Fortune ! take back these cultured lands. 
 
 Take back this name of splendid sound ! 
 I hate the touch of servile hands, 
 
 I hate the slaves that cringe around : 
 Place me among the rocks I love. 
 
 Which sound to ocean's wildest roar, 
 I ask but this — again to rove 
 
 Through scenes my youth hath known be- 
 fore. 
 
 Few are my years, and yet I feel 
 
 The world was ne'er designed for me ; 
 Ah ! why do dark'ning shades conceal 
 
 The hour when man nrast cease to be ? 
 Once I beheld a splendid dream, 
 
 A visionary scene of bliss ; 
 Truth ! — wherefore did thy hated beam 
 
 Awake me to a world like this 1 
 
 I loved — ^but those I loved are gone : 
 
 Had friends — my early friends are 0ed : 
 How cheerless feels the heart alone, 
 
 When all its former hopes are dead ! 
 Though gay companions, o'er the bowl. 
 
 Dispel awhile the sense of ill. 
 Though pleasure stirs the maddening soul. 
 
 The heart — the heart is lonely still. 
 
 How dull ! to hear the voice of those 
 
 Whom rank or chance, whom wealth or 
 power. 
 Have made, though neither friends nor foes. 
 
 Associates of the festive hour ; 
 Give me again a faithful few. 
 
 In years and feelings still the same. 
 And I will fly the midnight crew. 
 
 Where boisterous joy is but a name. 
 
 And woman ! lovely woman, thon ! 
 
 My hope, my comforter, my all ! 
 How cold must be thy bosom now. 
 
 When e'en thy smiles begin to pall. 
 Without a sigh would [ resign 
 
 This busy scene of splendid woe. 
 To make that calm contentment mine 
 
 Which virtue knows, or seems to know. 
 
905 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST J. 
 
 906 
 
 Fain would I fly the haunts of men, 
 
 1 seek to shun^ not hate mankind ^ 
 My breast requires che sullen glen, 
 
 "Whose gloom may suit a darkened mind. 
 Oh ! that to me the wings were given 
 
 Which bear the turtle to her nest ! 
 Then would I cleave the vault of Heaven, 
 
 To flee away, and be at rest. 
 
 Alimentaky Calendar. 
 
 The oyster season commences on the 
 fifth of August, yrhen there is a large 
 supply from Feversham, Whitstable, and 
 other nurseries in Kent: but those who 
 would eat oysters in perfection must wait 
 the approach of cold weather. It is 
 stated, as remarkable, that these, and all 
 shellfish, are best at the full of the moon. 
 
 River-salmon is a leading dish during 
 this month : the salmon-trout is a season- 
 able delicacy, and, with eels, roach, and 
 dace, are the fresh- water fish principally 
 in request. London is mostly supplied 
 with trout from the Wandle, and other 
 mill-streams and rivulets in Surrey and 
 Sussex. Turbot, whiting, skate, soles, 
 and flounders, as well as lobsters, crabs, 
 and cray-fish, are still in great plenty. 
 
 Leverets now come to table, and roast- 
 ing pigs occasionally obtain a distin- 
 guished place there. As French beans 
 are at maturity during this and the fol- 
 lowing month, there is no apparent dimi- 
 nution in the consumption of bacon and 
 ham. Fruits for the dessert are now ia 
 great abundance and variety. 
 
 Broccoli, at the beginning, and again 
 at the end of the month, fot early and 
 later spring use. 
 
 Cabbage ; Savoys, for use in November 
 and December. 
 
 Brussels sprouts, and Borecole, at the 
 commencement, and again towards the 
 end of the month. 
 
 Celery, into trenches for blanching, 
 once or twice : and water it. 
 
 Endive, a fiiU crop in the second, and 
 again in the fourth week. 
 
 Cut 
 
 All sorts of sweet herbs, and aromatic 
 and bitter plants for drying: — choose a 
 dry time, when they approach to fiill 
 blossom. 
 
 Gather 
 Seed-capsules, or podii, as they ripen 
 and dry them in an airy situation. 
 Cut down 
 Artichoke stems, as the fruit is taken ; 
 remove suckers from the plants, if it be 
 desirable to have very large heads. 
 Earth up. 
 In dry weather, celery plants in the 
 trenches; and repeat the earthing two or 
 three times during the month. 
 Uestroy 
 Weeds every where : remove litter, and 
 preserve neatness and order. 
 
 Vegetable Garden Directory. 
 Sow 
 
 Winter-spinach; the prickly seeded, 
 in the first and second week. 
 
 Cabbage-seed ; early York, sugar loaf, 
 Fulham, for the main summer supply, 
 between the sixth and twelfth of the 
 month. 
 
 Onions, to come in about the end of 
 March, not later than the second week. 
 
 Radish, for autumnal use,, two or three 
 times in the monlh. 
 
 Lettuce ; the white cos,brown Bath, or 
 Capuchin, for late autumnal supply, or 
 to be transplanted next month to stand 
 the winter : — sow some early. 
 
 Cauliflower; between the 20th day, 
 and the close. 
 
 Phnt 
 
 Lavender, rue, rosemary, sage, hyssop, 
 ^lad marjoium in slips. 
 
 ^ugu0t 1. 
 
 August may be considered the first of 
 the sporting months. The legal shooting 
 of red game, or grouse, commences on 
 the 12th, and of black game, or heath- 
 fowl, on the 20th, and botfi continue 
 until the 20th of December; but, as 
 these birds chiefly frequent the moorlands 
 in Scotland and the north of England, 
 they seldom arrive as presents in London 
 until the cold weather admits of their 
 transmission to so great a distance, in a 
 state fit for the table. 
 
 1. Daybreaks 
 Sun rises , 
 — sets 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 1 23 
 4 18 
 7 42 
 10 37 
 
 Thorn-apple in full flower 
 
 Berries of the mountainash fully ripenra. 
 
907 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 2, 3. 
 
 908 
 
 ^ugu0t 2. 
 
 On the 2nd of August, 1711, was born, 
 in Dean-street, Soho, Mr. Charles Rogers. 
 He was sent to a private school near the 
 mews, where he made no progress;, but, 
 being placed in the custom-house, he rose 
 to become the principal of his department. 
 He employed his leisure hours in culti- 
 vating his mind ; and, acquiring a taste for 
 literature, he formed valuable collections 
 of prints and drawings, became acquaint- 
 ed with persons who indulged in similar 
 pursuits, and was elected a fellow of the 
 Antiquarian and Royal Societies. He 
 planned and executed " A Collection of 
 Prints in imitation of drawings," with 
 lives of their authors by himself. The 
 plates were engraved by Bartolozzi, Ry- 
 land, Basire, and other eminent artists, 
 from the originals, in the collections of 
 the king, the duke of Marlborough, earl 
 of Bute, earl Cholmondeley, earl Spencer, 
 lord Campbell, sir J. Reynolds, and his 
 own., The expense of this spirited un- 
 dertaking was not reimbursed to him, on 
 account of the high price of the work, 
 and, not long before his death, he had, an 
 intention of publishing the remaining 
 copies in twelve numbers, at one guinea 
 each number, but ill-health prevented 
 him, and it was not issued in that form. 
 
 In 1782 Mr. Rogers produced an ano- 
 nymous translation of Dante's Inferno, in 
 which he aimed at giving the sense of his 
 author with fidelity. He wrote some 
 antiquarian papers in the " Archaeologia," 
 and a letter to Mr. Astle, on the early 
 engravings on wood used in the printing 
 of block books, before moveable types 
 v/ere generally adopted. He was never 
 married, but lived a domestic and quiet 
 life with some near relations. On twelfth 
 day, 1783, he was run over in Fleet-street, 
 by a butcher's boy on horseback. From 
 this period his health declined, and on 
 the second of January, 1784, he died, 
 and was buried in St. Lawrence Pount- 
 ney burying-ground. * 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 August 2. Day breaks 
 
 . 1 27 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 4 20 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 7 40 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 10 33 
 
 Tiger lily in full flower. 
 
 
 Young starlings, of the year's 
 
 ! brood, fly 
 
 in large flocks. 
 
 
 Gontleman's Magazine, 
 
 ^U0U!»t 3. 
 
 On the 3d of August, 1721, died Grin- 
 lin Gibbon, an eminent sculptor, and 
 carver in ivory and wood, who was dis- 
 covered in privacy at Deptford, and raised 
 to celebrity by John Evelyn. 1670-1. 
 Jan. 18. "This day," says Evelyn, " I firsi 
 acquainted his majesty with that incom- 
 parable young man. Gibbon, whom I had 
 lately met with in an obscure place by 
 mere accident, as I was walking near a 
 poor solitary thatched house in a field in 
 our parish, near Says Court. Looking in 
 at the window I perceived him carving 
 that large cartoon, or crucifix of Tintoret, 
 a copy of which I had myself brought 
 fro n Venice — I asked if I might enter ; 
 he opened the door civilly to me, and I 
 saw him about such a work as for the 
 curiosity of handling, drawing, and stu- 
 dious exactness, I never had before seen 
 in all my travels. I questioned him why 
 he worked in such an obscure and lone- 
 some place ; he told me it was that he 
 might apply himself to his profession 
 without interruption ; and wondered not 
 a little how I had found him out. I 
 asked him if he was unwilling to be made 
 known to some great men, for that I be- 
 lieved it might turn to his profit; he an- 
 swered he was yet but a beginner, but 
 would not be sorry to sell off that piece ; 
 on demanding the price, he said £100 
 In good earnest the very frame was worth 
 the money, there being nothing in nature 
 so tender and delicate as the flowers and 
 festoons about it, and yet the work was 
 very strong; in the piece was more than 
 100 figures of men, &c. I found he was 
 likewise musical, and very civil, sober, 
 and discreet in his discourse. There was 
 only an old woman in the house. So 
 desiring leave to visit him sometimes I 
 went away. Of this young artist, together 
 with my manner of finding him out, t 
 acquainted the king, and begged that he 
 would give me leave to bring him and 
 bis work to Whitehall, for that I would 
 adventure my reputation with his majesty 
 that he had never seen any thing approach 
 it, and that he would be exceedingly 
 pleased and employ him. The king said 
 that he would himself go and see him. 
 This was the first notice his majesty ever 
 had of Mr! Gibbon." Evelyn introduced 
 Gibbon and his carving to Charles II,, 
 who " no sooner cast his eyes on the 
 work but he was astonished at the curi- 
 osity of it; and having considered it a 
 
909 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 3 
 
 910 
 
 long lime, and discoursed with Mr. Gib- 
 bon, commanded it should be carried to 
 the queen's side to show her, where he 
 and the queen looked on and admired it 
 again, the queen believing he would have 
 bought it, being a crucifix ; but, when his 
 majesty was gone, a French pedling 
 woman, one Mad. de Boord, who used 
 to bring juttinats and fans and baubles 
 out of France, began to find fault with 
 several things in the work, which she 
 understood no inore than an ass or a 
 monkey, and this incomparable artist had 
 his labor only for his pains, and he was 
 fain to send it down to his cottage again ; 
 he not long after sold it for £80, without 
 the frame, to Sir George Viner." Evelyn 
 pushed Gibbon's interest at court and 
 recommended him to Sir Christopher 
 Wren, and May, the architect. The king 
 gave him a place at the board of works, 
 and employed him to ornament the palaces 
 particularly at Windsor. The following 
 is a literal copy of a letter from Gibbon 
 to Evelyn : — 
 " Honred 
 
 "Sir, I wold beg the faver wen you see 
 SirJoseflfWilliams[Williamson]again you 
 wold be pleasd to speack to him that hee 
 wold got roe to carve his Ladis sons hons 
 my Lord Kildare, for I onderstand it will 
 [be] very considerabell, ar If you haeu 
 Acquantans with my Lord to speack to 
 him his sealf, and I shall for Ev're be 
 obliaged to you, I wold speack to Sir 
 Josef my sealf but I know it would do 
 better from you. 
 
 Sir, youre Most umbell 
 Sarvant, 
 
 G. Gibbon." 
 
 London, 23d March, 1682. 
 
 Gibbon's best sculpture may be seen 
 in the monument of Noel, Viscount Cam- 
 den, in Exton Church, Kutlandshire ; and 
 in the statue of James II., behind the 
 Banqueting-house, Whitehall, which is a 
 work of uncommon merit. His perform- 
 ances were often so very fine, in marble 
 as well as ivory, that they required to be 
 defended by a glass-case. He excelled in 
 the carving of wood, and executed most 
 of the work within the choir of St. Paul's 
 Cathedral. Many of his flower pieces, 
 in private collections, are light almost as 
 fancy, and shake to the rattling of passing 
 carriages. Walpole terms Gibbon " an 
 original genius, a citizen of nature." He 
 adds, " There is no instance before him 
 of a man who gaVe to wood the loose and 
 airy lightness of flowers, and chained to- 
 
 gether the various productions of the ele- 
 ments with the free disorder natural to 
 each species. It is uncertain whether he 
 was born in Holland or in England." 
 
 In like manner Vandyck discovered 
 William Dobson, the painter, and ob- 
 tained for him the patronage of Charles 
 I. Dobson came of a decayed family 
 at St. Albans. He was born in St. 
 Andrew's Holborn in 1610, and put 
 apprentice to Sir Robert Peake, a court 
 painter in the reign of James I., under 
 whom, and Francis Cleyn, and by copy- 
 ing some pictures of Vandyck, he im- 
 proved so much that one of his paintings 
 being exposed in a shop window of Snow 
 Hill, Vandyck passing by was struck 
 with it, and inquiring for the artist found 
 Dobson at work in a mean garret. He 
 took him from thence and recommended 
 him to the king, who on Vandyck's death 
 appointed him his serjeant-painter. Dob- 
 son attended the king to Oxford, where 
 Charles, Prince Rupert, and several of 
 the nobility sat to him. His pictures are 
 very faithful transcripts of nature, and 
 are thought the best imitations of Van- 
 dyck. He painted history as well as 
 portrait. His pictures in the latter de.- 
 partroent rise above that denomination : 
 they usually contain more than a single 
 figure. Walpole describes many of his 
 pieces. One of the woman taken in 
 adultery contained portraits of persons 
 then living, among whom was Cowley 
 the poet. Another represented Prince 
 Rupert, Colonel John Russel, and Mr. 
 William Murray, drinking and dipping 
 their favor-ribands in wine. At Blen- 
 heim is a family, by some said to be that 
 of Francis Carter, an architect and 
 scholar of Inigo Jones; by others, of 
 Lilly the astrologer, whom Vertue thought 
 it resembled, but Lilly had no family; 
 the man holds a pair compasses. Wal- 
 pole says, " I have seen nothing prefer- 
 able to this ; there is the utmost truth in 
 it." Dobson addicted himself to plea- 
 sure, and, not having had time to enrich 
 himself, became involved in debt, and was 
 thrown into prison, from whence he 
 was delivered by Mr. Vaughan of ths 
 Exchequer, whose picture he drew, an 1 
 thought it the best of his portraits. He 
 died soon after, at the age of thirt;y-siz, 
 and was buried at St. Martin's, October 
 28, 1646. 
 
911 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 4 
 
 913 
 
 Dobson was the; first artist who required 
 persons who sat for portraits, to pay half 
 the price of the picture down. He de- 
 vised the practice when overwhelmed with 
 business at Oxford. 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 iigust 3. Day breaks 
 
 . 1 31 
 
 Suri rises . . 
 
 . 4 22 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 7 38 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 10 29 
 
 Winter clierry flowers. 
 
 
 Ilollyhoclis fully blown. 
 
 
 ^ugu0t 4. 
 
 August 4, 1 787, died, aged 78, major 
 general .Tohn Sailer, ' lieutenant-colonel 
 of the first regiment of foot. He was 
 originally a private in the guards, and 
 taken from the ranks by the duke of Cum- 
 berland, who caused him to be made a 
 Serjeant, and soon after was so pleased 
 with his voice, and manner of giving the 
 word of command, that he presented him 
 wiih a commission iti the same regiment. 
 This promotion gave great offence to the 
 other officers, who refused Salter their 
 "countenance. Thus circumstanced, he 
 wailed upon the royal duke, and stated 
 the awkwardness of his situation. " Well, 
 well," said the duke, " meet me to-mor- 
 row on the parade." The duke came 
 earlier than usual, and, going up to the 
 color-stand, saluted lord Ligoiiier and the 
 officers of the regiment, who were all in 
 conversation together; but, directing his 
 eye around, as if by accident, he noticed 
 poor Salter alone. " What,'' said his 
 highness, " has that officer done, that he 
 is drummed out of your councils ?" and, 
 going up to him, took him by the arm, 
 and walked up and down the parade with 
 him, in the presence of the battalions and 
 their officers. Lord Ligonier, at this time 
 accosting the duke,' intreated his hio-h- 
 riGss's company to dinner; — "With all 
 my heart," said the duke, " and, remem- 
 ber, Salter comes with me." His lordship, 
 bowing, said, " I hope so." After this 
 ordeal Salter was well received, and by 
 his merit raised himself to the rank he 
 held at his death. 
 
 company in the Staffordshire militia, 
 formerly of the line. He was one of the 
 few. who escaped unwounded at the battle 
 of Bunker's-hill. The following anec- 
 dote reflects much honor on . the parties 
 interested. As the regiments at Water- 
 down camp were marching off the parade 
 to the field of exercise. Gen. Eraser, the 
 commander-in-chief, called out " Step 
 but old Serjeant." Sarjant, who was 
 uncommonly tall, being apprehensive that 
 by so doing he should throw the battalion 
 men into disorder, thoBfh the grenadiers 
 might keep up with him, pretended not 
 to hear the command. The general re- 
 peated it, with a menace, that if he did 
 not step on he would order the men to 
 tread upon his heels. Sarjant, however, 
 i'ather chose to hazard consequences . to 
 himself than the least disgrace to his. re- 
 giment, and the general, imagining 'hi$ 
 command would be obeyed, directed his 
 attention elsewhere ; Sarjant was so mor- 
 tified by this public rebuke' that chagrin 
 strongly marked his countenance. Hjs 
 captain mentioned the matter to lord 
 Paget, the colonel of the regiment, who, 
 with the rest of his officers invited the gert^ 
 eral to dinner, and gave such a charactej 
 of Sarjant as induced a reparation as 
 public as the reproof. On the day when 
 the camp broke up, the regiments being 
 all drawn up, the general called out, 
 " Serjeant Sarjant;" and, when Sarjant 
 came up to him, took 5 silver-mounted 
 sabre from his belt, and said, "You will 
 accept of this and wear it for my sak^ 
 as a token of the great opinion 1 enter- 
 tain of you as a soldier, and a non-com- 
 missioned officer ;" and, turning to Lord 
 Paget, the general added, " This sabre is 
 not agreeable to the Staffordsliirc uniform ; 
 and therefore I beg your lordship will 
 give the old gentlciian leave to wear it 
 whenever he' pleases." ' Ilis lordship 
 assented ; and as a further rnark of esteem, 
 when he quitted the command of th^ 
 regiihent soon after, he directed Sarjant 
 to draw upon him annually for twenty 
 guineas.* 
 
 Amotuek Serjeant. 
 
 In the year 1788, died at Lichfield, aged 
 sixty, serjeRnt Sarjant, of tlie grenadier 
 
 h. m. 
 
 August 4. Day breaks . . 1 35 
 
 Sun rises . . . 4 24 
 
 — sets ... 7 36 
 
 Twilight ends . . 10 iS 
 
 Tansy flowers. 
 
 Gent!.' MagE«ir)e. 
 
913 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 4. 
 
 914 
 
 AN EFFIGY 
 N Camberwell Church, 
 SunitEr. 
 - " sheatbcd in steel. 
 
 " With belted aword ; and spur on 
 heel." 
 
 The south aisle in Camberwell 
 Church was tlie burial place of the 
 §cotts, a family of some considerar- 
 tion in the parish, two or three cen- 
 turies ago. 
 
 The "man in arms" here figured 
 represents Edward Scott, who died 
 29th September, 1537. InGough's 
 " Sepulchral Monuments" (vol. ii. 
 p. 38©,) is an engraving from a 
 brass plate formerly in the north 
 transept of Hordle Church, Hamp- 
 shire, which is a perfect fac-simile 
 of this monument. Mr. Warner 
 supposes it to represent a Sir Regi- 
 nald de Clerk, who perished in one 
 of the bloody battles fought "be- 
 tween the rival houses of York and 
 Lancaster. This idea, he thinks, 
 derives some support from the ap- 
 pendages of the figure itself, the 
 head reclining on what he conceives 
 to represent a " saddle," and the 
 feet being armed with spurs. This 
 "saddle," which is exactly similar 
 to the supporter on which the head 
 of Edward Scott is pillowed, Mr. 
 Gough takes to be " nothing more" 
 than a helmet, which placed under 
 the head of sepulchral efligies is 
 . commonly, though incorrectly, sup- 
 " posed to indicate knighthood, and 
 no inferior rank. 
 
 Mills, in his history of Chivalry, 
 represents that doughty Knight, 
 Don Rodrigo Trojas, as lying on 
 his shield, with his helmet for a pilr- 
 low. Sir John Montacute Knight 
 says, in his last testament, — " I will 
 that a plain tomb be made for me 
 with the image of a Knight thereon, 
 and the arm? of Montacute, having 
 a helmet under the head." RichaiM 
 Lord Poynlngs (1387) wills, that 
 a stone of marble be provided with 
 an escutcheon of his arms, and a 
 lielmet under his head,. 
 
 The yeomen in Branksome hall 
 I " lay down to rest. 
 With corslet laced, ^ 
 Pillowed on buckler cold and hard." 
 
915 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 5, 6. 
 
 16 
 
 ^U0U0t 5. 
 
 GiPSEY FUNEKAL. 
 
 On the 5th of August, 1830, died an 
 individual of whom the " Oxford Journal" 
 gives the annexed account : — 
 
 The mortal remains of an aged female, 
 belonging to this singular race of people, 
 were on Thursday last consigned to the 
 earth in Highworth church-yard, attended 
 by a great concourse of spectators, at- 
 itiacted to the spot by the novelty of the 
 spectacle. The interment was conducted 
 with the greatest decorum, the interest of 
 the scene being heightened, instead of 
 damped, by the incessant rain, which fell in 
 torrents on the venerable uncovered locks 
 of the husband. He acted as chief mourner 
 on the occasion, and, with his numerous 
 offspring forming the procession was by 
 'the pitiless storm assailed, unmoved.' 
 They appeared fully impressed with the 
 awful solemnity of the last duty they were 
 about to perform for one who had been a 
 wife and a mother for nearly threescore 
 years and ten. When living, she was a 
 •perfect " Meg Merrilies" in appearance, 
 and it is even said that she was the identi- 
 cal person whom Walter Scott had in view 
 when he wrote that inimitable character 
 in Guy Mannering. Be this as it may, 
 for considerably more than half a century 
 she exercised her oracular powers in pro- 
 pounding the " good or bad fortune" of 
 all the fair-going damsels of the country 
 round. She had inspired many a love- 
 lorn maid, not merely with hope, but with 
 a " dead certainty" that the joys of Hymen 
 should be hers in less than one fleeting 
 year; and theDelphic oracle never imparted 
 half the satisfaction to its anxious en- 
 quirers that our aged sybil invariably did to 
 hers. True it is, however, that her powers 
 of divining good fortune in some measure 
 depended on the generosity of her appli- 
 cants ; and while, for a shilling, or less, 
 some poor maidens were constrained to 
 put up with the promise merely of " a 
 gentleman with a one-horse shay," — the 
 boon of half a crown would purchase a 
 " lord with a coach and six." Often at 
 " fair time" she was seen to retire with 
 some expecting lass to a remote corner of 
 Highworth church-yard, when, like a 
 second Cassandra, " big with the mys- 
 teries of fate," she would unfold her 
 anxious enquirer's future destiny ; her 
 predictions might not '' always" come 
 true to the exact letter, still while there 
 
 was life there was hope, and who would 
 not purchase a ye^r of such hopes for the 
 trifling sum of half a crown? — besides, 
 even in this case, the verifieations of her 
 predictions were only in unison with thosp 
 of our great High Priest of Astrologers, 
 Francis Moore, who wonderfully contrives 
 that every thing shall come to pass " the 
 Jay before, or the day after." Xt should 
 have been stated before, that she made 
 her mortal exit in a lane in the vicinity of 
 Highworth, and that, in the coflin with 
 her remains, were enclosed a knife and 
 fork, and plate ; and five tapers (not wax 
 we presume) were placed on the lid, and 
 kept constantly burning till her removal 
 for interment ; after which ceremony, the 
 whole of her wardrobe was burnt, and 
 her donkey and dog were slaughtered by 
 her nearest relatives, in conformity to a 
 superstitious custom remaining among 
 her tribe, derived, perhaps, from the east, 
 where, on the demise of a person of dis- 
 tinction, the whole of their appendages 
 both living , and dead, are destroyed, in 
 order that the defunct may have the 
 beneflt of their services in the next world. 
 It is said that a memorial is to be erected 
 to her memory with the following siniple 
 epitaph : — 
 
 " Being dead yet speaketh." 
 Beneath lies one — they say could tell 
 By the magic of her spell. 
 By the most unerring signs. 
 By the hand's mysterious signs, 
 What our earthly lot should be^ , 
 What our future destiny. 
 But the dust that lies below 
 Speaks more truly, for e'en now. 
 It bids the proud, ere life is past;^ 
 Contemplate their lot at last. 
 When this world's gaudy vision's gone,. 
 When high and low shall be as one. 
 When rich and poor, and vile and just. 
 Shall mingle in one common dust. 
 
 E. T. Dyke. 
 
 
 h. m.. 
 
 ugust 5. Day breaks 
 
 . 1 38 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 4 25 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 7 35. 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 10 22 
 
 Lady's seal bears berries. 
 
 
 ^U8U0t 6. 
 
 The Season, 
 The summer has so many charac- 
 teristics, in the atmosphere, on the earth, 
 and in the waters, and their changes are 
 so many with change of place, and their 
 
m 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 7. 
 
 918 
 
 succession so rapid witli the lapse of 
 time, that no words can convey any thing 
 like an adequate idea of them; and 
 therefore all that can be attempted is to 
 excite, in those who " have eyes but see 
 not," a desire to look around them at 
 that which is produced without the art 
 and labor of man, and they will find a 
 resource, which while, by the spring and 
 impulse it gives to the mind, it makes the 
 business and the duty of life go smoothly 
 on, is a citadel amid misfortune, an inhe- 
 ritance which none of the contingencies 
 of life can impair, — an enjoyment which 
 is, as it were, intermediate between that 
 of the world of possession, and that 
 brighter world of hope to which it is so 
 delightful to look forward.* 
 
 Summer ahd the Poet. 
 Poet. 
 
 Oh ! golden, golden summer. 
 
 What is it thou hast done ? 
 Thou hast chased each vernal Toamer 
 
 With thy fiercely burning sun. 
 
 Glad was the cuckoo's hail ; 
 
 Where may we hear it now ? 
 Thou hast driven the nightingale 
 From the waving hawthorn bough. 
 
 Thou hast shrunk the mighty river •, 
 Thou hast made the small brook Hee 
 
 And the light gales faintly quivei 
 In the dark and shadowy tree. 
 
 Spring waked her tribes to bloom. 
 
 And on the green sward dance. 
 Thou hast smitten them to the tomb. 
 
 With thy consuming glance. 
 And now autumn cometh on. 
 
 Singing 'midst shocks of cum. 
 Thou hastenest to be gone. 
 
 As if joy might not be borne. 
 
 Summer. 
 
 And dost thou of me complain. 
 Thou, who, with dreamy eyes. 
 
 In the forest's moss hast lain, 
 Praising my silvery skies 1 
 
 Thou, who didst deem divine 
 
 The shrill cicada's tune. 
 When the odors of the pine 
 
 Gushed through the woods at noon ^ 
 
 I have run my fervid race ; 
 
 I have wrought my task once more ; 
 I have fiU'd each fruitful place 
 
 With a plenty that runs o'er. 
 
 ♦ British Naturalist, ii. 383. 
 
 There is treasure for the garner ; 
 
 There is honey with the bee ; 
 And, oh ! thou thankless scorner. 
 
 There's a parting boon for thee . 
 
 Soon as, in misty sadness. 
 Sere Autumn yields his reign. 
 
 Winter, with stormy madness. 
 Shall chase thee from the plain. 
 
 Then shall these scenes Elysian 
 Bright in thy spirit burn ; 
 
 And each summer*thought and vision 
 Be thine till 1 return. 
 
 Howitt. 
 
 August 6. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Day breaks . . 1 42 
 
 Sun rises ... 4 27 
 
 — sets ... 7 33 
 
 Twilight ends . .10 18 
 
 Meadow saffron begins, or is about, to 
 
 flower. 
 
 Flowering rush of the marshes in its 
 fullest flower. 
 
 aU0U0t 7. 
 
 Lambeth Palace Garden. 
 
 In 1817, the Caledonian Horticultural 
 Society having appointed a deputation 
 to survey and report the state of horti- 
 cultures in the Low Countries, the gentle- 
 men appointed to the tour arrived in 
 London in August, and, preparatory to 
 their departure for Flanders, they visited 
 Covent Garden green and fruit market, 
 in order to compare the quantity and 
 quality of horticultural productions with 
 those they might witness in the foreign 
 cities they were about to visit. 
 
 August 7, the Scottish tourists went 
 early in the morning to the garden at 
 Lambeth palace, in order, chiefly, to see 
 two ancient fig-trees, said to have been 
 planted by cardinal Pole, about 1 558, or 
 nearly 360 years ago. They were found 
 to have been greatly injured by the severe 
 winter of 1813-14, and the principal 
 stems had in consequence been cut over 
 near to the ground. The stems, where 
 cut, were as thick as a man's thigh. On 
 one of the trees a large old branch still 
 remained, and extended to a considerable 
 distance along the wall. The whole 
 breadth of this tree was then about thirty 
 feet: the branches had risen forty feet 
 high, having been trained against the pa- 
 lace wall which was marked with nails 
 
919 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 8. 
 
 930 
 
 and shreds to that height. The tree, 
 therefore, had covered a space of 900 
 square feet ; and bid fair soon to equal 
 its former self. The fruit is of the kind 
 called the white-fig ; but there was none 
 upon the tree when the tourists saw it. 
 They remarked that fruit seemed to have 
 failed very generally in that year. 
 
 Lambeth palace garden usually pro- 
 duces abundant crops of very fine pears, 
 apples, plums, and peaches ; but, on ac- 
 count of the unfavorable state of the 
 season previously, scarcely a specimen 
 of any of these fruits was to be seen. 
 They observed on the lawn in front of 
 the palace some fine trees, of kinds not 
 usual in Britain, and which in Scotland 
 are common in the form only of shrubs. 
 The Carolina sumach-tree (rhus elegans), 
 the scarlet oak (quercus coccinea), the 
 three-thorned acacia (gleditschia triacan- 
 thos), may be mentioned ; and likewise 
 two excellent specimens of catalpa syrin- 
 gifolia, each about twenty feet high, 
 which, in favorable seasons, seldom failed 
 to produce large panicles of flowers. A 
 very lofty American plane-tree (plantanus 
 occidentalis) attracted the particular no- 
 tice of the visitors. Its shape was highly 
 symmetrical; the lower branches then 
 extended not less than 48 feet in diameter, 
 or 144 feet in circumference, and, pro- 
 jecting very considerably beyond those 
 immediately above, they literally sweep 
 the grass; while the upper mass of 
 branches and foliage rose, bell-shaped, 
 to the height of about eighty feet. At 
 three feet from the ground the trunk 
 measured nearly eight feet in circumfer- 
 ence. Some of the first-mentioned trees 
 were of considerable age: this plane-tree, 
 however, was then said to be little more 
 than twenty years old, although it seemed 
 double that age. It was in perfect vigor, 
 and seemed to have completely escaped 
 the effects of the winter, 1813-14, already 
 alluded to, which proved fatal to many of 
 the finest specimens of the occidental 
 plane, both in England and Scotland. 
 " We admired," say the tourists, " the 
 taste displayed in preserving an ancient 
 walnut-tree" (juglaris regia), although 
 one half of it was dead : for, as the bare 
 spray of the walnut-tree speedily blackens 
 with decay, a good contrast is formed 
 with the light green foliage df the living 
 part ; and the whole seemed to us to 
 accord well with the venerable anticuity 
 of the archiepiscopal palace." 
 
 My Lady in a Garden. 
 
 Within this garden here. 
 This happy garden once, while 1 was happy. 
 And wanted not a free access unto it ;- 
 
 r, without control, alone might spend, 
 With sweet Aitemia, in these fragrant walks. 
 The days' short-seeming hours ; and ravished 
 
 hear 
 Her sweet discourses of the lily's whiteness. 
 The blushing rose, blue mantled violet. 
 Pale daffodil, and purple hyacinth ; 
 With all the various sweets and painted gloriei 
 Of Nature's wardrobe ; which were all eclips'd 
 By her diviner beauty. 
 
 Thos. May, 1617. 
 
 August 7. 
 
 b. m. 
 1 46 
 4 2» 
 7 31 
 
 10 14 
 
 Day breaks 
 
 Sun rises 
 — sets . . 
 
 Twilight ends 
 French marigold flowers. 
 Amaranths of various sorts in flower^ 
 Early peaches ripe. 
 Apricots ripe in abundance. 
 
 ^U0U0t 8. 
 
 August 8, 1817, the Caledonian Horti- 
 cultural Society tourists, on their way t© 
 Dover, observed — " The grand and massy 
 ruins of Rochester Castle presented us 
 with a botanical rarity, during a very 
 hurried visit which we paid to it; in 
 several places the mouldering walls are- 
 covered with single red carnations (dian- 
 thus caryophyllus), which were now in 
 flower. We should have been apt ta 
 consider these as accidental wanderers 
 from some neighbouring garden ; but sir 
 James Edward Smith, in his Flora Bri^ 
 tannica, has not scrupled to describe the 
 plant as indigenous to England, and (n, 
 mention this castle as a principal habitat." 
 
 They spent the afternoon at Canterbury, 
 greatly pleased with the cleanliness of the 
 streets, with the beauty of the terracei 
 walks on the ramparts, and with the fine 
 avenues of lime-trees below; but not a 
 little disappointed to find workmen en- 
 gaged in razing to the ground a keep, or 
 stronghold, of Norman architecture, with, 
 walls ten feet thick. " This, we think, 
 might have beeii spared, both as an orna- 
 ment and as indicating the antiquity of 
 the place. After having surveyed the 
 famed cathedral, and made a pilgrimage 
 to the shrine of Becket, we visited the 
 ruins of the abbey of St. Augustine, said 
 to have been the earliest Christian esta- 
 
921 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 9. 
 
 922 
 
 blishment in England, In the neighbour- 
 hood of this abbey, we understood, were 
 still to be seen some remains of monkish 
 gardens. We accordingly found a mul- 
 berry-tree, two vines, and three or four 
 walnut-trees, all of them possessing the 
 marks of great age. The mulbeny-tree 
 is of the common black species (morus 
 nigra). The tree has a venerable aspect. 
 It had once been both lofty and spreading ; 
 but had been blown down, and has lain 
 on its side for the last century op more. 
 One old man in Canterbury remembers 
 it in its present recumbent posture for 
 above seventy years past, and declares 
 that he know^ no change on it. By per- 
 mission of the lessee of the garden we 
 particularly examined it. The remains 
 of the original trunk, now lying horizon- 
 tally on the ground, measured in length 
 twenty-one feet and a half; and in cir- 
 cumference, at four feet from the root, 
 five feet eight inches. Two large branches 
 have risen perpendicularly, and now per- 
 form the office of stem, forming a new 
 tree with a double head. The first of 
 these subsidiary trunks^ which springs off 
 at the distance of thirteen feet from the 
 origijtil root, measures in height six feet, 
 before it forks; and it is three feet in 
 circumference. The other new stem 
 comes off nearly at the upper extremity 
 of the old trunk, and rises seven feet and 
 a half before dividing ; like the former, 
 it is about three feet in circumference. 
 Both of these form handsome heads, and, 
 taken together, cover a space of thirty 
 feet by twenty-four. On examination we 
 perceived that a certain continuous por- 
 tion of the bark was fresh all the way 
 from the original root ; and, by removing 
 a little of the earth, we likewise ascer- 
 tained that many new roots, though of 
 smaller size, had been sent off from the 
 base of the two branches which had 
 formed themselves into stems and heads. 
 The fruit of this aged tree is excellent ; 
 indeed, it is commonly said that the fruit 
 of the oldest mulberry-trees is the best. 
 In 1815 the berries, sold at two shillings 
 a pottle, yielded no less than six guineas. 
 We were told that they are commonly 
 bought up for desserts, by the ' gentle- 
 men of the cathedral,' who, like their 
 predecessors, are probably no bad judges 
 of such matters.' 
 
 Dr. Andrews, Dean of Canterbury, 
 disliked the nicety which a few of mi 
 
 wealthy parishioners displayed when ap- 
 plied to for their assistance in aid of pri- 
 vate charityi " I am sorry," said he, 
 " that my own means do not enable me 
 to do that which my heart dictates. I had 
 rather be deceived in ten instances than 
 lose the opportunity of making one heart 
 glad — the possession of wealth ought to 
 stimulate the feelings of charity." 
 
 He that says well and doth well is 
 commendable; but I like him better 
 that doth well and saith nothing. — Bp. 
 Hall. 
 
 h. m. 
 August 8. Day breaks . . 1 50 
 Sun rises ... 4 30 
 — sets ... 7 30 
 Twilight ends . . 10 10 
 Devil's-bit in flower. 
 Filberts, in early years, fit to gather. 
 Leaves of lime-trees, and some of the 
 elms, change color, and turning yellow. 
 
 ^ugu0t 9. 
 
 August 9, 1744, died John Brydges, 
 the " great " duke of Chandos. He ex- 
 pended £200,000 in building the princely 
 seat of Canons, in Middlesex, where he 
 lived with a splendor to which no other 
 subject had ever aspired. It was errone- 
 ously supposed that his means were not ad- 
 equate to the maintenance of the establish- 
 ment; but the bills of the tradesmen were 
 regularly discharged until the duke's de- 
 nease, when he was buried at Stanraore- 
 Parva, or Whitchurch, the parish inwhich 
 Canons is situated. Theie is a magnifi- 
 cent monument to his memory, in a cha- 
 Sel paved with marble over the vault : 
 is " effigies " are represented as large as 
 life, in a Roman dress, between his two 
 first wives. The earlier part of the duke's 
 manhood was spent in reflection and ob- 
 servation ; his middle age in business, ho- 
 norable to himself, and serviceable to his 
 country ; and his advanced years in " pa- 
 tience, resigiiation, and piety." His libe- 
 rality was equalled only by his generous 
 forgiveness of injuries. Pope disgraced 
 his muse by unjust and sarcastic wit 
 levelled at the duke, and the poet meanly 
 disclaimed, and Hogarth punished it by re- 
 presenting the bard of Twickenham on a 
 scaffold white-washing Burlington-house, 
 
0-23 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— AUGUST 10. 
 
 9v' 
 
 and bespattering the duke of Chandos' 
 carriage as it passed. Yet Pope's verse 
 respecting the short-lived magnificence of 
 Canons was prophetic : — 
 Another age shall see the golden ear 
 Embrown the slope, and nod on the parterre: 
 Deep harvests bury all his pride has planned. 
 And laughing Ceres reassume the land. 
 The stately mansion was sold, piecemeal, 
 by auction, in 1747, and it became the 
 rage of that day to buy something at 
 Canons ; hardly an attendant at the sale 
 went away empty-handed, so numerous 
 and so various were the lots. 
 The duke of Chandos liberally patronized 
 learning and merit. A clergyman, much 
 esteemed by the duke, was one day view- 
 ing the library at Canons. His grace 
 said, " Please, sir, to fix upon any book 
 you like, and it shall be yours." The 
 gentleman chose one, politely, of no 
 great price ; afterwards, on turning over 
 the volume, he found a bank bill of con- 
 siderable value between the leaves. 
 Greatly surprised, he returned it with the 
 book. The duke received the bill, but 
 gave in exchange one of double the value, 
 saying, " Accept that, sir, for your ho- 
 nesty."* 
 
 Few particulars are known of this 
 munificent peer, and fewer respecting 
 the edifice of Canons. Its site is now in 
 arable, with the exception of a compara- 
 tively small stone edifice, since erected. 
 The church of Whitch\irch, almost set in 
 solitude, was fitted up by the duke — it is a 
 gem of which Londoners have no concep- 
 tion. They should make holiday to see it. 
 A stroll from thence to Stanmore church, 
 then to Harrow on the Hill, and back 
 through meadows and green lanes, by the 
 way of Willsden, is a delightful summer 
 walk. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 August d. Day breaks . . 1 53 
 
 Sun rises ... 4 32 
 
 — sets . . . 7 28 
 
 Twilight ends . . 10 7 
 
 Lesser persicary flowers. 
 
 ^U0U0t 10. 
 
 August 10, 1786, the Rev. William 
 Bickerstaffe, minister of Ayleston, in 
 Leicestershire, addressed a letter from 
 Leicester, to the lord-chancellor Thurlow, 
 in which he says — " At fifty-eight years 
 of age, permit a poor curate, unsupported 
 
 • Noble. 
 
 by private property, to detain your at- 
 tention a few moments. From 1750 I 
 have been usher at the Free Grammar 
 School I here, with an appointment of 
 £19 16s. a year ; seven years curate qt 
 St. Mary's, my native parish, in this 
 borough ; then six years curate at St. 
 Martin's with All Saints', lately bestowed 
 by your lordship on Mr. Gregory of this 
 place ; and now an opportunity occurs to 
 your lordship, to give me an occasion to 
 pray for my benefactor, and those that are 
 dear to him, during my life : 'tis this, a 
 dispensation is expected every day, by 
 the head-master of the school where I 
 serve, the Rev. Mr. Pigot, vicar ^/Great 
 Wigston, in this county, to cqnneMn fresh 
 acquisition in Lincolnshire with *; and )ie 
 urges your lordship's petitioner to-try for 
 the living of St. Nicholas here, which he 
 must relinquish. It is simply £35 a year; 
 but, as this corporation grants an annual 
 aid to each living in Leicester of £10 
 a year, St. Nicholas, joined to my school, 
 might render me comfortable for life, and 
 prevent the uncertainty of a curacy, and. 
 the hard necessity, at my time of life, of 
 being harassed, in all weathers, by a dis- 
 »ant cure." In a letter to a friend on the 
 same subject, he urges interference on 
 his behalf, " The living is yet undisposed 
 of: the lord chancellor is, or lately was, 
 at Buxton, and I remain uninformed of 
 any thing further : there is no room to 
 expect a smile of favor till the gout is 
 more civil. It seems like a chancery 
 suit. The present chancellor is said to 
 be a leisurely gentleman in these matters. 
 He keeps livings in suspense. This may 
 be designed to accumulate an aid, to pay 
 for the seals and induction. Swift says, 
 'Lord treasurer, for once be quick.' Should 
 you tell the lord chancellor, ' It would 
 suit him, and that I say it,' it might cost 
 me the loss of his slow favors. At my 
 age, I could tell him, with strict pro- 
 priety, ' Bis dat, qui cito.' " 
 
 Mightier interests prevailed, and Mr. 
 Bickerstaffe remained till his death, in 
 1789, without preferment. The du- 
 ties of his functions he discharged assidu 
 ously ; and, being possessed of much me- 
 dical knowledge, he employed it in 
 comforting the afflicted, as he did the 
 small surplus of his little income in al- 
 leviating distress. He gave two guineas a 
 year out of his pittance towards a Sunday 
 school, which he labored to establish in 
 his parish. Ilis industry and humility 
 are apparent from a passage in one of his 
 
925 
 
 niE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 11. 
 
 926 
 
 letters : — " As my absence from Ayleston 
 on the common week days makes it an 
 indispensable duty to spend my time, as 
 much as possible, on a Sunday, among tlie 
 parishioners, and assist them in private as 
 well as in public, I think the method I have 
 adopted very convenient for that purpose. 
 1 bring with me bread and butter, and, 
 with lialf a pint of friend Chamberlain's 
 beer, lake an expeditious refreshment be- 
 fore the family dines, and then go out 
 among the cottagers. I might dine, if I 
 chose it, every Sabbath-day, at Mr. Cham- 
 berlain's cost; but that would frustrate 
 my designs." 
 
 We are apt to forget goodness — the 
 goodness ^vhich vaunteth not itself, and 
 wliich is not seen in our blind hurries 
 to commemorate what is called greatness. 
 Is there a greater character in society 
 than " a good parish priest ? " 
 
 b. m. 
 
 Aiigiisl 10. Day breaks ... 1 57 
 
 Sun rises . . . 4 34 
 
 — sets . . . , 7 26 
 
 Twilight ends . .10 3 
 
 Sun-flower flowers abundantly. 
 
 ausu0t 11. 
 
 The Village Chdrch. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Time, the universal destroyer, is ne- 
 vertheless the universal beautifier. It 
 confers the ripeness of manhood, before 
 it brings on the chilly winter of age, and 
 it sheds the mellow tranquillity and the 
 repose of centuries on the lofty tower, 
 which, ere long, it will level in the dust. 
 Like ihe cannibal who fattens, before he 
 feasts upon, his victim ; time only scatters 
 beauty that it may have the malignant 
 pleasure of trampling upon it — the grati- 
 fication of destruction is enhanced by the 
 beauty of the object destroyed. 
 
 Were reality to be reversed, and could 
 modern times boast of architects superior 
 to those of the past ages, — the pile of to- 
 day, though unequalled in every .point in 
 which human ingenuity could be exerted, 
 would still be unable to cope with its 
 more aged brother, in impressing the 
 mind of the beholder with that train of 
 deep and retrospective thought into 
 which- we are naturally led by" gazing on 
 some hoary ruin, sanctified by time, and 
 pregnant with recollections of romance 
 
 and chivalry. The newly erected church 
 has an appearance of freshness which 
 seems to insinuate the novelty of the re- 
 ligion it is dedicated to promote. The 
 venerable tower of a village church 
 speaks in a far different language. The 
 stillness of age is upon it. The green 
 youth of the ivy is forcibly contrasted 
 with the gray old age of the mouldering 
 stone. lie who died yesterday, reposes 
 by the side of him who died centuries 
 before. The past and the present are 
 strangely fnterwoven. On viewing the 
 newly erected house of God, we cer- 
 tainly may rejoice in the structure, as a 
 proof of the spreading influence of the 
 Holy Gospel, and a consequent increase 
 of civilization. But the shrine, hallowed 
 by age, stands like an ancient landmark 
 to tell us that despite, the wrath of man, 
 the deluded fanatic, or the attacks of in- 
 fidelity,our religion hassurvived the shock, 
 and claims our affection for the perils 
 which it has surmounted. 
 
 The appendages of the old village 
 church add greatly to the beautiful ideas 
 with which it is invested. The bell, that 
 early offspring of music, is indispensable 
 in almost every stage of life. We can 
 tell by its gay and lively pealing that 
 hands, and, we hope, hearts have been 
 united. Its slow murmur utters a tale 
 not to be mistaken — a warning differing 
 from the former, inasmuch as the event 
 which the latter proclaims must in- 
 evitably overtake us all. In the feeling 
 words of Southey, it is " a music hal- 
 lowed by all circumstances — whic'n, ac- 
 cording equally with social exultation and 
 with solitary pensiveness, though it falls 
 upon many an unheeding ear, never fails 
 to fmd some hearts which it exhilarates, 
 some which it softens." Buonapai:te, 
 walking upon the terrace at Malmaison, 
 heard the evening bells of Ruel. His am- 
 bitious thoughts assumed a tinge of mo- 
 mentary sadness, and a recollection of 
 less troubled and more innocent days 
 rushed across his mind, — " If such is their 
 effect upon me, .what must it be with 
 others." — Did not his conscience say to 
 him, if such is their efl^ect upon you, so 
 deeply stained with crime, so deaf to 
 every voice, human and divine, how be- 
 neficial must the effect be when these 
 sounds fall upon an ear that has never 
 been closed to the voice of mercy and 
 peace ? — Such thoughts might have flitted 
 across his brain for a moment, but they 
 were too pure there to fix their resting- 
 
9.J7 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.- AUGUST 11. 
 
 928 
 
 place. It is an instrument breathing a 
 rude music, but, in spite of civilization, it 
 loses not a single charm. The camel and 
 the ass refuse to proceed when their bell 
 is removed and the tinkling ceases, and 
 many of us could with difficulty bring our- 
 selves to believe we were going to church, 
 were we not invited by the sacred and 
 accustomed summons. We live in days 
 when it no longer reminds us of slavery. 
 No curfew quenches the cheerful blaze in 
 the hearth, or robs a winter evening of its 
 social happiness. The half-merry, half- 
 melancholy peals that swell the evening 
 breeze glide gently over the tranquillised 
 senses, and leave us, like Garrick between 
 Tragedy and Comedy, doubting whethtr 
 we will yield to sadness, or resign our- 
 selves to mirth. 
 
 Another feature of the old village 
 church is the venerable-looking sun-dial, 
 a stone in which indeed there is a sermon, 
 or at least a i>ubject for one, viz. some 
 Scripture text rudely carved. The in- 
 animate index of revolving time, it looks 
 with apathy and indifference upon all 
 around it, and, though wanting the tone of 
 the bell to give utterance to its speechless 
 admonition, the silent shadow that it 
 casts expresses alanguage,avisible rhetoric, 
 that the poorest peasant can understand. 
 It is true it will not go ten, degrees back- 
 wards for us ; but if properly applied it 
 may enable us by its warning to live a 
 life, though short in days, yet long in 
 deeds of goodness and Christian charity. 
 And can we forget the favorite old seat at 
 the porch. Here the rustic pilgrim, before 
 he enters the house of God, rests his toil- 
 strung limbs. Here the villagers congregate 
 in a knot and discuss the politics of the 
 village — the last wedding, or the freshest 
 grave, are main themes of discourse. Here 
 the ancient dames, with their prayer-books 
 neatly folded in their glazed hand kerchief, 
 and attired in their scarfs, refreshed by a 
 week's repose, canvass the merits of the 
 parson's wife, or reprobate the vanity 
 which induces some Cicely, or Phoebe, to 
 deck her perishable body in such an un- 
 profitable gaudiness. Alas! did not they, 
 in their spring time, love to bask in the 
 sun, and to heighten their charms by a 
 gay riband, or an envy-exciting lace ? 
 Observation will find an ample field to 
 roam over in the church porch ; and the 
 benevolent Christian will rejoice in con- 
 templating the unpolished throng, ap- 
 proaching the altar of God, with their 
 countenances clad in the smiles of Sab- 
 
 bath peace. lie will reflect on the sweet 
 repose of that everlasting Sabbath when 
 we shall rest from our labors in the pre- 
 sence of our Heavenly Father. 
 
 Opposite the church, and in a sheltered 
 corner, stands the vicarage house, such a 
 one as Hooker would have loved ; where 
 he could eat his bread in peace and pri- 
 vacy. Who can read Goldsmith's beau- 
 tiful lines on the village curate, and not 
 admire the simplicity of truth, and the 
 vivid purity of the Character he draws ? 
 How different is his description of the 
 priest frotn that in PoUok's Course of 
 Time, where the author labors, toils, and 
 pants, and leaves us in pain, not in peace. 
 And sucb a pastor here resides, active as 
 Gilpin, learned as Hooker, and poor in 
 spirit as Herbert, He is not a dumb dog' 
 that does not bark. He is the physician of 
 his flock, spiritual and bodily — a coun- 
 sellor to the foolish — a reprove^ of the 
 wicked — an encourager of the lowly and 
 meek-hearted — a father to the fathierless— 
 a husband to the widow — the prop of the 
 aged, and the guide of the young. He 
 meddles but little in matters of state, but 
 when he does he supports his king, and 
 proves himself a zealous defender of the 
 church. "Our minister lives sermons — 
 he is even as hospitable as his estate will 
 permit, and makes every alms two by his 
 cheerful giving it. He loveth to live in a 
 well repaired house, that he may serve 
 God therein more cheerfully, and lying 
 on his death-bed he bequeaths to each of 
 his parishioners his precepts and ex- 
 amples for a legacy, and they in requital 
 erect every one a monument for him in 
 their hearts." These are the words of the 
 estimable Fuller, and in these has he 
 written his own character. Many villages 
 in England have such a pastor — would 
 that every one had ! Let a blind guide 
 depart, and be succeeded- by a faithful 
 minister. The change will fully prove 
 that the bulk of mankind is well inclined 
 to follow righteousness when, it is incul- 
 cated by one who practises what he 
 preaches, 
 
 J. K. 
 
 Smith Stoneham, neivr Sozithampion, 
 April, 1831. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Aiigmt \1. Day breaks ,. . 2 ft 
 
 Sun rises ... 4 35 
 
 — sets . . . 7 2') 
 
 Twilight ends . 10» 
 
 Golden sparwort flowers. 
 
 Meteors common at this season. 
 
929 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-AUGUST U. ' 
 
 930 
 
 BAYNARDS, SUIIREY. 
 
 [For the Year Book.') 
 
 It was a calm evening, in spring when 
 I first saw Baynards. 
 
 I had been house-hunting in Surrey 
 for some days, and having heard that 
 this old mansion was to be let, I was 
 induced by my antiqiiarian propensities 
 to seek it out, and to make all due en- 
 quiries concerning it. " You will never 
 like it," said one friend ; " It is down 
 in the clays." Now, in order to make 
 my reader comprehend the due weight 
 of this oppi;obrium, I must inform him 
 that the fortunate inhabitants of the dry 
 -sand-district actually regard the dwellers 
 in the clay as beings of an inferior order, 
 and " down iii the clays" is to a Surrey 
 man the climax of all human misery. 
 " But are the, roads good?" I enquirecl. 
 
 Vol. I.— 30. 
 
 " Why— yes. Of late years tney have 
 been rendered excellent ; though I have 
 heard that in former times eight- horses 
 could not drag a carriage through them. 
 One thing I must say for. them ; which 
 is, that they are not so dusty in dry wea- 
 ther as the roads on our lighter soil.'.' " I 
 will not be daunted, then ;" I exclaimed. 
 " But "—objected another, friend — " the 
 house was built in the reign of Elizabeth, 
 and is destitute of modern comforts. 
 There are no grates in the wide large 
 fire-places, and the windows are all case- 
 ments." " So much the better," cried I, 
 " I will forego a few luxuries for the 
 sake of living in a real old house." At 
 this confession some shrugged, some 
 hemmed, some lifted their eye-brows, 
 and my friends seemed about to give uj> 
 2 H ■ 
 
931 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 11 
 
 032 
 
 the argument in despair, when a single 
 lady of a ceitain age timidly faltered forth 
 — " There are no neighbours." " And no 
 scandal, miss Mousetrap" — ^I retorted — 
 " For my part, I hate what is called a 
 good neighbourhood.'' The good com- 
 pany were now silenced by amazement, 
 and, seeing that they would not waste 
 any further reasoning upon a madman, I 
 ordered my gig, and set out in search of 
 Baynards. 
 
 Passing through the greater part of the 
 picturesque town of Guildford, I turned 
 to the left, and, leaving the high road to 
 Portsmouth, proeeeded, under chalky 
 hills, broken into pits, the steep sides of 
 which almost presented the appearance of 
 lofty cliffs, glittering in beautiful contrast 
 to the blue sky seen through" their ab- 
 rupt chasms. On my right hand the 
 silver stream of the river Wey laved the 
 base of that singular and abrupt hill on 
 the summit of which stands the ruined 
 chapel of St. Catherine, and before me 
 spread the darkening woods of an exten- 
 sive park. No fairer combination of 
 natural objects can meet the eye of a 
 traveller. Continuing to wind amongst 
 woods, hills, and pastures, and having 
 passed through the lovely village of Wo- 
 nersh, I at length emerged through a 
 rocky sandy- way into quite a different 
 style of country — different, yet not 
 without its own peculiar beauty. It con- 
 sisted of small hills or rather knolls of 
 ground interposed between flat spreading 
 commons, on the verge of which ancient 
 and picturesque cottages generally ap- 
 peared, half sunk in trees. Some of these 
 commons contracted themselves into the 
 real village-gi'een with all its accompani- 
 ments, as described by the poet ; 
 
 The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool. 
 The playful children just let loose from school. 
 The watch-dog's voice thatbay'd the whis- 
 pering wind. 
 And the luud laugh that spoke the vacant 
 mind. 
 
 On one side the richly wooded hill of 
 Hascombe, on the other the heathy 
 eminences of Ewhurst and Leith, formed 
 a tine background ; though these ranges, 
 retreating from each other more and more 
 as I advanced, made it evident that the 
 country was opening out into the wider 
 champaign. I was sorry for this, for I 
 love hills, and, by the time I had reached 
 the not very inviting village of Cranley, 
 I had almost begun to say, — " After all, 
 
 my friends were right. This country will 
 never do for me." My rising disgust was 
 much encreased by the pretensions to 
 suburban elegance which are displayed at 
 the further end of the village, where a 
 white square column, surmounted by a 
 pine-apple, performs the part of a direc- 
 tion-post, flanked by a little square house, 
 with a row of stiff fir-trees in frgnt, and 
 where a yew-tree as bare and as tall as a 
 May-pole displays a scanty top, cut inlo 
 the semblance of some indescribable bird. 
 However, on leaving the village, the road 
 once more turns in the direction of the 
 hills, and becomes strikingly beautiftil 
 from the rich oak woods which rise ou 
 either hand, so as to form a continued 
 avenue of more than two miles in length, 
 leaching, as if in fact it were part of the 
 property, to the very lodge-gate of Bay. 
 nards. The ground also is more varied, 
 after the village is passed, rising into 
 wood-crowned eminences, topped by an- 
 cient farms ; while a noble shfeet of water, 
 that forms a i-eservoir for the Surrey and 
 Sussex canal, enriches the view, and leads<' 
 the eye along its bending course, to the 
 blue summits of distant Hindhead. 
 
 I had now mounted a pretty steep 
 hill, when through a vista in the woods 
 I caught the first, the most striking' view 
 of the old mansion of Baynards. All in 
 front lay in deep shade, except when the 
 lighter branches twinkled to a wandering 
 sunbeam; beyond these, the grey and 
 lordly dwelling steeply rising from a 
 grassy knoll, with all its pointed gables, 
 and stone mullioned windows, and' tall 
 clustered chimnies, seemed to slumber in 
 the mellow western light. My first 
 thought was, — " How grand — hoW' beau- 
 tiful 1" My second, — " Is it "possible 
 that I shall ever live in so lovely a place ?" 
 As yet unadmonished by the real uriro- 
 mantic evils of a house in bad repair, I 
 had long made a real old mansion the 
 Utopia of my imagination; and here was 
 a house not only ancient, but beautiful, 
 nota mere husk of antiquity, but full of 
 antique and lofty associations. 
 
 I had ascertained a little of the history 
 of Baynards when I began to think of it 
 as a residence, and, as I gazed at its gray 
 walls, the names of Sidney, More, and 
 Evelyn rose to my recollecffdn. To an 
 ancestor of Sir Philip Sidney of Perishurst 
 the first grant of the Baynards estate had 
 been made in the reign of Henry VI. ; 
 the present mansion had been tuilt by a 
 descendant of Sir Thomas More, and had 
 
«33 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST it. 
 
 934 
 
 ftflerwards heen ocenpied by a brother of 
 the author of Sylva. In rathei an exnlted 
 mood, then, I turned up the approach 
 towards the house;— rbut, alas, I looked 
 in vain for any vestige of the noble avenue 
 of oaks which Mr. Richard Evelyn, in a 
 letter to his celebrated brother, John, 
 dated the first of October, 1663, thus 
 .describes. "The oken walke to my 
 house was planted about sixty years since. 
 tt extends in length about seventy rods 
 (at sixteen feet and a half), and hath fifty 
 trees of a side. The walke is in breadth 
 t,hree rodde and a half, and the trees 
 planted about twenty-four foote as under. 
 >liey cover the whole walke like an ar- 
 bour, and spread seven rodde and a 
 quarter. There is, by estimation, three 
 quarters of a load of timber in each tree, 
 and in their loppes three cords of wood, 
 one with another. Their bodies are but 
 ^ort, being topped when they were 
 planted. For their heads few excelling 
 them, maoy of them being planted by 
 themselves in the parke, and not beii^ 
 hindered by others, spread 5 rodde a 
 niece."* These had disappeared, and 
 the absence of all large timber on the 
 estate pgoved that the property had loi^ 
 passed out of noble into needy hands. 
 
 The house itself, though apparently as 
 perfect in all its substantial parts as the 
 day it was built, bespoke a century of 
 neglect. The fine old porch was blocked 
 up by a shabby plantation, and bad been 
 (as I afterwards discovered), converted 
 into a larder. After looking for some 
 time in vain for an entrance, I came into 
 a small court, to which the latest impres- 
 sion of footsteps conducted me, and arr 
 rived at a large door, on each side of which 
 a bundle of furze was stuck upright on a 
 pole, to serve the purposes of a mat, as 
 the well-worn and mud-besmeared con- 
 dition of each fully indicated. The door, 
 which fitted into a deep and very' flat- 
 tened arch of stone, was of massive oak, 
 studded with enormous octagon-headed 
 nails, against one of which a piece of 
 iron tpetibrmed the part of a rapper. By 
 aid oif this I brought out a respectable 
 looking woman, who admitted me into a 
 spacious and lofty kitchen, supplied with 
 a wide open arched chimney, which was 
 .in itself an ^artniont and with many a 
 
 * From a MS. at Wofiaa, kiHSlf sent me 
 by Mr. Bray, who continued Man^uig's His- 
 tory of Surrey. 
 
 smoke-stained rafter, and dim :'«cess, de- 
 corated xvith ghostly flitclies. Having 
 intimated that I was come to see the 
 house, I was conducted over it by the 
 good woman, whose husband farmed 
 tlie surrounding land, ^nd, contrary to 
 my expectations, found the apartments 
 much larger and loftier than is usual in 
 old mansions, and tlie plan of the whole 
 building much more regular than I should 
 have supposed, A large hall in the 
 centre, decorated with a carved oak screen, 
 divided the offices from two spacious 
 sitting-rooms ; over the hall an immense 
 apartment separaited two sets of lofty 
 bed-rooms ; and a gallery of a hundred 
 feet in length ran dong the top of thr. 
 house, opening on either hand int > 
 smaller dormitories. In this gallery, my 
 guide informed me, an annual cricket 
 match used to be played by the men U 
 Rudgwick against the men of Cranley,- ■ 
 two neighbouring villages. I can scarce 
 ly imagine a more inconvenient spot fiji 
 such an exploit. A ghost also was saia 
 to walk here (of course such a place 
 could not be wiUiout one), in the form of 
 an old lady carrying her own head in a 
 basket. The grand stair-case was pecu- 
 liar. It occupied a large and projecting 
 gable, was of immense width and solidity, 
 and kept turning about a square buttress, 
 from the veiy bottom to the top of the 
 house. All the doors and fire-places were 
 of the low flattened areh peculiar to the 
 Tudor period, and the windows, of great 
 size and height, v^re most of them di- 
 vided into two horizontal ranges, by a 
 cross bar of stone, and again into numer- 
 ous compartments, by upright stone mul- 
 lions. .Such views of the surrounding 
 country as could be obtained through 
 their dingy casements were beautiful in 
 the extreme, although, on one side of the 
 house^ a farm yard, a dirty pond, sundry 
 barns, .and a wheat st^dc, with a cock 
 flappmg his wings on .the top of it, did 
 not compose a veiy charming foreground. 
 I was disappointed in finding the rooms 
 so entirely destitute of ornament. There 
 was none of the rich carved work which 
 usually decorates an old mansion, and I 
 could Only account for the absence of it 
 by supposing that, as the house became 
 deserted by its nobler inmates, the orna- 
 mental parts were by degrees removed to 
 other places — a conjecture which was 
 strengthened by the woman's informing 
 me thai, within her time, the Onslovr 
 family (who possessed B&ynards) had 
 
935 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST ll.': 
 
 936 
 
 removed some very fine stained glass 
 from the hall windows to the church of 
 Clandon, near which village they have a 
 splendid old country seat. 
 
 The apartment at Baynards which 
 made the most impression upon me was 
 the great room over the hall. There was 
 a savage obscurity and vastness about it, 
 that was extremely striking. Besides a 
 deep oriel window, there was an archway 
 in the thickness of the wall leading to a 
 kind of oratory. The old oak floor was 
 in a most picturesque state of disrepair, 
 and as uneven as the waves of the sea. 
 The dim light, admitted through the only 
 window which had not been blocked up, 
 served to swell the proportions of the 
 room to an indefinite extent, and three 
 gigantic iron-studded doors, mocking at 
 the puny entrances of modern times, 
 conducted the imagination beyond the 
 bounds of vision. " Aye, Sir," said the 
 woman, seeing me pause, and look cu- 
 riously around me, " this be a big room 
 sure enough, and very convenient for the 
 purpose to which a tenant put it some 
 years ago." '■'What purpose? " I hastily 
 asked, half-expecting, half-hoping, to 
 hear some tale of terror. " Why, Sir, 
 he dried his malt here to defraud the go- 
 vernment — and ever since there have been 
 such a power of rats.'' — " Oh what a fall 
 was there, my countrymen j" muttered I. 
 " Yes, Sir," said the woman, supposing 
 me much interested in the intelligence; 
 " it was indeed a very shocking thing, for: 
 he was found out, and obliged'to fly, and 
 died soon after, some say of a broken 
 eart — ^but that may, or may not be, you 
 now." « Well, well, after all" thought I, 
 "something of a story of rustic horror 
 might be made out of this. Give but the 
 man a high-minded wife, and a beautiful 
 daughter, after the fashion of modern 
 ' tale-concocters.' " — "And when did these 
 events take place ? " I enquired. " Thirty 
 years gone last Lammas," replied my in- 
 formant ; " I was but a girl then, but I 
 remember the time by the token that 
 yonder great meadow down there, which 
 we call the forty acres, was then first 
 drained. Before that, it had always been 
 as fine a piece of water as ever you could 
 see, with plenty of fish, and with boats 
 and swans. You may yet see the old 
 
 pond-head — that high bank with the trees 
 upon it." " Shade of Evelyn ! "—thought 
 I — " here has been spoliation with a ven- 
 geance ! Not a vestige left of that beau- 
 tiful natural mirror, which must have 
 reflected the landscape so happily in that 
 peculiar spot. Why, now that I know 
 there was once water there, the whole 
 park looks like an eyeless face ! Doubt- 
 less on that ample pool many a lordand 
 lady gay , has launched forth in gilded 
 barge, startling the echoes with music 
 and light laughter. How changed !"— But 
 I will spare my reader any more of my 
 lamentations on the subject. Few may 
 feel as I do with regard to even useful 
 changes, and- what are called improve- 
 ments. Neither shall I say whether, dis- 
 gusted by these alterations, and by the neg- 
 lected state of the house, I gave up all 
 thoughts of dwelling in it, .or whether I 
 made a fool of myself, and laid out a 
 power of money in restoring it to its an- 
 cient splendor. I will however finish 
 the day with my reader, and conduct him 
 safe out of the dreary house. 
 
 The sun was very low when I got into 
 my gig, yet his beams still lingered upon 
 the old gray edifice, as I turned to give it 
 a parting look of the warmest admiration, 
 for distance, veiled all the ravages of time 
 and neglect, and gave it an appearance of 
 even lordly grandeur. • I mounted the 
 hill on the summit of which stands the 
 beautiful village of Rudgwick with ils 
 ancient church, and scattered embosomed 
 farms, and just before the descent on the 
 opposite side I checked the rein to gaze 
 upon the glorious scene below. The sun, 
 which had once set to me in the vale, was 
 just resting his orange-colored orb upon 
 the blue ridge of Black Down — the name 
 given to the southern extremity of Hind- 
 head. Long shadows, and golden lines 
 of light, were falling . over the richest 
 landscape, diversified in the distance by 
 the dark fir-woods of PetwortIi,and the 
 bold forms of the Sussex downs. I waited 
 till the last glimpse of the sun's rim had 
 sparkled from behind the hill, and then, 
 proceeding, sunk down into a sort • of 
 quiet patriarchal country, the ncollecj 
 tion of which, and of my sensations, on 
 beholding it, inspired me at a future time 
 with the following poesy :— 
 
 Though not from crowded streets I hither came, 
 Methought 'twas long since I had round me seen 
 Such true repose; though not oppress'd with grief 
 More -than time brings to all, I deeply felt 
 
937 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— ALTrUST 11, 
 
 938 
 
 'Twas a heart-healing land. The countiy there 
 Seemed God's own country, for the use of man 
 Intended, and by man's abuse unstained : — 
 Woods for his hearth and pastures for his board. 
 And yet the landscape in its simple wealth 
 Had something of a lordly aspect too^ 
 fine old English look. 
 
 From the Two Mamions, a Poem, 
 
 Will the reader pardon me, if I also give him a description in verse of the singing 
 of the nightingales in that part of the world ? Such things will not do in prose. 
 
 Ne'er heard I such a band of nightingales 
 
 As hailed the rising of the vernal Moon; 
 
 Not one poor pensive solitary bird, 
 
 With interrupted strain, but thousands sang — 
 
 Yea, tens of thousands — an unceasing song. 
 
 All notes were heard at once, of every kind. 
 
 At every distance, from the nearest oak 
 
 To the horizon's verge, till heaven's whole cope 
 
 Was but a dome to one resounding choir. 
 
 All notes were heard at once — the quick sharp, beat, 
 
 The double thrill, the liquid gurgling shake, 
 
 And that one lowest richest tone of all, 
 
 Its under murmur of delicious sound 
 
 Perpetual kept, to harmonize the whole. 
 
 The Twe lUanaiom. 
 
 death they were all cut down and de- 
 stroyed by the persons who continued to 
 detain the just possession of this estate 
 from those to whom in honour and con- 
 science it belonged. Since which, how- 
 ever, he speaks of it as at length disposed 
 of, and expresses himself glad that it had 
 fallen into the hands of its then possessor. 
 The aforesaid Richard Evelyn died at 
 Epsom, March 1669 (see inscription in 
 Epsopi church) leaving one only daughter 
 and heir, Ann, wife of Wm. Montague 
 Esquire, son of the Lord Chief Baron 
 of the Exchequer of that name, of whose 
 heirs it was purchased by Richard, first 
 Lord of Onslow, from whom it descended, 
 with the other family estates^ to George, 
 Earl Onslow." 
 
 I have only to add that since it was in 
 the possession of the Onslow family, it 
 has thrice changed its owners. 
 May 27, 1831. 
 
 I will now take my leave of my reader, 
 — whom I fear I have detained too long — 
 with an extract from Manning's folio 
 History of Surrey, containing the most 
 authentic historical account of Baynards : 
 
 " Baynards is an estate in Cranley pa- 
 rish and Ewhurst, about a mile distant on 
 the south-cast from Vacherie, in Cranley. 
 In the 25th of Henry Vlth. William 
 Sydney Esquire had leave to impark 
 800 acres of land in Ewhurst, Cranele, and 
 Buggewick, within his Maner of Bay- 
 nards. He was living here in 12 Henry 
 yi, and dying 8th Octr., 28 Hen.VI., 
 Ao. 1449, was buried at Cranley. It 
 was afterwards the estate of Sir Regi- 
 nald Bray, who gave it to his Nephew 
 . Edmund, by whom it was sold to his 
 brother Sir Edward. Sir Ed: the younger, 
 resided here during the life time of his 
 father, and even as late as the year 
 1577, about which time it was purchased 
 by Sir. George More of Loseby, who 
 built a mansion and dwelt here. The next 
 possessor was Richard Evelyn Esquire 
 of Wuodcote, in Epsom, younger brother 
 of John author of the Sylva who, speak- 
 ing of the okes planted here by his 
 brother, says that he lived to see them so 
 finely thriven, though in a barren soil and 
 cold clay, as to contain, one with ano- 
 ther, 3 qrs. of a load qf timber in a 
 tree. — He adds that afttr his brother's 
 
 Hydon Hill. 
 
 This conical hill, in Surrey, to the 
 south of Godalming, and in the vicinage 
 of Baynards, overlooks the wolds of Sur- 
 rey and Sussex. It is the subject of a 
 poem containing these passages descrip- 
 tive of the country — - — 
 
 Now on the summit rapt I stand. 
 
 The centre p{ tlie circling l»nd. 
 
939 
 
 THE' YEAR BOuK —AUGUST 11, 
 
 940 
 
 ' See, arouuQ, above, below, 
 'What beauties blaze, what colors glow f 
 Blcnding> intersecting, meeting, 
 Or in Icngthen'd file retieatiiig ; 
 Slop'd, or, with abrupt abyas, 
 Scoop'd'into chalky precipice; 
 Smooth, or variously embossed. 
 Bare, or with many a hedge-row crossM, 
 Innumcrous rise the hills around. 
 And shut the landscape's farthest bound. 
 Swells, o'er all^ the coping sky. 
 How grand, how vast a canopy ! 
 Above of deep cerulean hue. 
 Low it bends to palest blue. 
 And, on the horizon bright. 
 Melts away in liquid white. 
 Where clouds, of downy texture, spread. 
 Pillows meet for angeVs head. 
 
 Now the restless eye may rove 
 From mead to mead, from grove to grove J 
 Now the village church it views 
 Nested in its ancient yews ; 
 Fields with com; or pasttire, green. 
 And stripes of barren heath between ; 
 Villas, farms ; and, glimmering cool. 
 The glassy pond, orrnshy pool. 
 Softly blue the distance fades. 
 In aerial lights and shades. 
 All, that a painter's eye can charm. 
 All, that a poet's heart lan warm, 
 'Die sool, at one excursive glance. 
 Seizes antid the wide exparse. — 
 
 Where the vale appears to rise 
 And mingle with the meetisg skiuu, 
 Back'd by the chalk-pit's snowy hue, 
 Guildford's turrets meet the view. 
 Above impends the castle hoar. 
 Where Tradition's babbling lore 
 Tells, that a Saxon king did keep 
 The rightful heir in dungeon d'cep. 
 On a rock, above the plain. 
 Rises Catherine's rtiiiiM fane ; 
 And, where yonder bold hill swells. 
 From out its deep-entangled dells, 
 Martha boasts her house of prayer ; 
 Sister saints the maidens were, 
 AVho, a time-worn legend says, 
 Themselves the hallow'd walls did raise. 
 And a wondrous hammer, stilly 
 Tost, as they toil'd, from hill to hill. 
 Far away, pale Hindhead frowns, 
 With level ridge of sun-burnt downs ; 
 With pointed summit, steep and high. 
 Towers iir-cinctnr'd Crooksbury, 
 Gazing there, the minil recals 
 Wavcrley's old abbey-walls. 
 Or sees file Oak's rude btanchcs wave 
 O'er Ltid's wild stream, and wizard cave. 
 Below, like one vast wavy nicad. 
 The wooded (tlaius of Sussex spread , 
 Is't Fancy's cheat, or can the eye. 
 Beyond, a gleam of sea descry ?_ 
 Now 1 turn, where Hascombe vaunts. 
 Its bceclien bowers, and Dryad haunts ; 
 Now, where, on Ewhurst's breezy Biound, 
 
 Turn the tall windmill's broad vans round. 
 And the distant tower of Lcith 
 Looks o'er th« subject land beneath. 
 
 Nearer as the eye returns. 
 Fresh beauties, raptur'd, it discerns. 
 Like the green, and sunny ocean. 
 Waving with a gentle motion. 
 The billowing barley, o'er the vale. 
 Varies with the varying gale. 
 While, in never-ending race. 
 Light and shade each; other chase, 
 O'er its undulating face. 
 See, where two hills embracing meet. 
 And form a dingle at their feet, 
 Screen'd by elms and poplars tall, 
 A cottage rears its humble wall- 
 Now the steep my steps descend, 
 Now to the grassy dell I wend. 
 How chitng'd the prospect ! Naught is seen 
 Save azure sky, and biU-^ide green. 
 Where spreads the fiock Avhose tinkling bell 
 Suits the lonely echoes well ; 
 And the valley jocund rings. 
 While the blithe turf-cutter sings — 
 
 Oh, ye delicious solitudes. 
 Of peace the only true abodes. 
 Still charm ray fancy, for to me 
 Nature is true luxury i 
 More fair to me yon bells of heath. 
 Than glowing Indfa's gaudiest wreath ; 
 More sweet the breeze,that sweeps the broom. 
 Than all Arabia's soft perfume ; 
 Moro brig-ht the dew-drop on its stems. 
 Than rich Golconda's radiant gems. 
 Then, since Nature, without cost. 
 Gives all, that wealth herself can boast. 
 Let me true to Nature prove. 
 Talk with her, in glade And grove j 
 By the babbling brook ; and still 
 Wo6 hci charms on Hydon Hill.* 
 
 A RuBAL Description. 
 
 " At tlie doore of the house you meet 
 with a walTie with fine avenues, in figure 
 like a starre; the oakes that compose it 
 make one, vfith exlasie, admire the height 
 of their tops, raising one's eyes from the 
 root to the column ; then, precipitating 
 them down againe, one doubts whether 
 the earth beares them, and whether or no 
 they carry not the earth at their roots : 
 you would think that their proud heads 
 are forced to bend under the weight of 
 the heavenly globes, which burden they, 
 with groaning, support; their armes 
 stretcht towards heaven, embracing it, 
 seem to beg of the stars their iniiuences 
 altogether pure, and to receive them before 
 
 * The Weaver's Boy, and other Poems, by 
 Chauncy H. Townshend, 1826, p. 42, &c„ 
 
941 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST il. 
 
 042 
 
 they have at all lost of their innocence in 
 the bed of the elements. There, on every 
 side, the flowei's, having had no other 
 gardener but nature, sent a sharp breath, 
 that quickens and satisfies the smell. 
 The svreet innocence of a rose on the 
 eglantine, and the glorious azure of a 
 violet under the sweet briars, leaving us 
 not the libertie of choice, make us judge 
 that they are both one fairer than the 
 other. The spring there composes all the 
 seasons; there no venomous plant buds, 
 but her breath soon betrays her safety ; 
 there the broolces relate their travels to the 
 pebbles; there a thousand feather'd voyces 
 make the forresfring with the sweet mu- 
 sic of their songs; and the sprightful 
 assembling of these melodious throats is 
 so general, that every leaf in the wood 
 seems to have taken the shape and the 
 tongue of a nightingale ; sometimes you 
 shall hear them tickle a consort ; another 
 while they'le drag, and make their music 
 languish ; by and by they passionate an 
 elegie, by interrupted sobbs; and then, 
 again, soften the violence of their voyces, 
 more tenderly to execute pitty ; and, at 
 last, raise their harmony ; and, what with 
 their crotchets and warbling, send forth 
 their lives and their voyces together! 
 Echo is so delighted with it, that she 
 seems to repeat their aires only that she 
 may leame them ; and the rivolets, jealous 
 of their musique, asthey fly away, grum- 
 ble, much troubled that they cannot equall 
 them. On the side of the castle two 
 walks discover themselves, whose con- 
 tinued green frames an emerald loo big 
 for the sight; the confused mixture of 
 colours that the spring fastens to a million 
 of flowers, scatters the changes of one 
 another; and their tincture is so pure, 
 that one may well judge that they get so 
 close one to another, onely to escape the 
 amorous kisses of the wind that courts 
 them. One would now take this meadow 
 for a very calme sea ; but when the least 
 Zephyrus comes to wanton there, 'tis then 
 a proud ocean, full of waves, whose face, 
 furrowed with frownes, threatens to swal- 
 low up those little fools ; but, because this 
 sea has no shoare, the eye, as afrigbted to 
 have run so long vrithout finding any 
 coast, quickly dispatches the thought, to 
 the end of the world, and the thought 
 being doubtful too, doth almost persuade 
 himself that this place is so full of charms, 
 that it hath forced the heavens to unite 
 themselves to the earth. In the midst of 
 thic so vast, and yet so perfect, carpet, 
 
 runs in with silver bubbles and streams, 
 a rustick fountain, who sees the pillows 
 of her head enameled with jessemines, 
 orange trees, and mirtles, and the little 
 flowers that throng round about would 
 make one believe they dispute who shall 
 view himself in the stream first; seeing 
 her face so young and smooth as 'tis, 
 which discovers not the least wrinckle, 
 'tis easie to judge she is yet in her mother's 
 breast, and those great circles which she 
 binds and twines herselfe, by reverting 
 so ofien upon herselfe, vritnesse that 'tis 
 to her griefe, and against her will, that she 
 finds herselfe obliged to go from her na- 
 tive home : but, above all things, I admire 
 her modesty, when I see her (as ashamed 
 to be courted so neere her mother) mur- 
 mur and thrust back the bold hand that 
 touches her. Tlie traveller that comes 
 hither to refreshe himselfe, hanging his 
 head over the water, wonders 'tis broad 
 day in his horizon when he sees the sunne 
 in the antipodes, and never hangs over 
 the bank but he's afraid to fall into the 
 firmament." — Bergerac 
 
 WoTTON, Surrey 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Mr. Hone, 
 
 Having had occasion to go to 
 Mickleham and Wotton churches, Surrey, 
 I made the following observations : — 
 Mickleham church, which stands by the 
 road side, midway between Letherhead 
 and Dorking, presents good specimens of 
 the Saxon, Norman, and Gothic styles of 
 architecture. In a small chapel, seem- 
 ingly used as a vestry, is a richly sculp- 
 tured tomb of one of the Wyddowson 
 or, as Aubrey saith, the Wyddolkson, fa- 
 mily : it was erected in the early part of 
 the reign of Henry VIII., whose " livelie 
 povrtraitvre " fairly wrought in brass, to- 
 gether vrith that of the person who rests 
 below, are in most excellent preservation. 
 The font is probably Norman ; it is cut 
 out of a black hard stone, and highly po- 
 lished ; there is a fine one somewhat of 
 earlier date at Hendon, Middlesex, and an- 
 other still more remarkable, at Brighton old 
 church, Sussex. Among other interesting 
 objects I noticed a curious Saxon window, 
 and two crowned heads on either side of 
 the western door smirking pleasantly. 
 
•,)I3 
 
 THE YEA.R BOOK.— AUGL'ST- 15. 
 
 WOTTON CHURCH, KENT. 
 
 The little village of Mickleham was 
 formerly a place of some consequence ; it 
 is mentioned in Domesday — "Ni'gell holds 
 Miclielham of the bishop of Baieux. Ans- 
 frig held it ' of king Edward. It has 
 al*ays been assessed at five hides. The 
 arable is four ploughlands. There are 
 two ploughs in the demesne, four villains, 
 four bondsmen, and two ministers. Here 
 is a church, two acres of meadow, and a 
 wood of three hogs. In the time of the 
 Confessor it was valued at three poumls, 
 subsequently at fifty shillings, and it is 
 now estimated at four pounds," Sec. 
 
 Wottoh church is chiefly remarkable 
 from its containing the cemetery of the 
 Evelyn family, which is situated in the 
 north aisle of the chancel, and inclosed 
 by a wooden railing. The tomb of the 
 illustrious John Evelyn stands on the 
 right hand side of the entrance. He lies 
 above ground, in a stone coffin which is 
 jcased by a larger one of fair marble, on 
 the slab of which the following epitaph is 
 graven i — 
 
 Here lies the Body 
 
 ot John Evelyn, Esq. 
 
 of this place, second son 
 
 of Richard Evelyn,- Esq. 
 
 who, having served ^e Publick 
 
 in several employments, of which that 
 
 of Commissioner of the' Privy Seal in thfs 
 
 Reign of king James the 2A. was most 
 
 honourable, and perpetuated his fame 
 
 by far more lasting monuments than 
 
 those of Stone or Brass, his learned 
 
 and useful Works, fell asleep on the 27' day 
 
 of February 1705-6, being the 86'ycaT 
 
 of his age, in full hope of a glorious 
 
 Resurrection, thro* faith in Jesus Christ. 
 
 Living in an age of extraordinary 
 
 Events and Revolutions, he learnt 
 
 (as himself asserted) this Truth, 
 
 which pursuant to his intcntj^oi^ 
 
 is here declared, 
 
 That all is vanity which .is not honest, 
 
 and that there is no solid wisdom 
 
 but in real Piciy. 
 
 Of five Sons and three Daughters 
 
 bovn to him from his most 
 
 viviuuus and excellent wife 
 
 Til. iry^ sole daughter and heiress 
 
945 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— AUGUST 11. 
 
 046 
 
 of Sir Rtch. Browne, of Sayes 
 Court near Deptford in Ke&t^ 
 oaely one daughter^ Susanna 
 married to William Draper, 
 Esq., of Adscomb in this 
 County, survived him ; ~thc 
 twt) others "dying in the 
 flower of their age, and 
 all the Sons very young, ex- 
 cept one, named John, who 
 deceased 24 March, 1698-9, 
 in the 45 year of his age, 
 leavii^ one son, John, and 
 one daughter, Elizabeth, 
 llis " virtuous and excellent wife" re- 
 poses in a like sepulciire ontheleft hand 
 side of the entrance, and the goodly effi- 
 gies of his ancestors surround the walls. 
 Among these may lie seen the twenty- 
 four diildren of George Evelyn, Esq., 
 who died in 1603, kneeling on stony 
 cushions, with their hands clasped in the 
 attitude of prayer, saving three or four 
 infants who, strangely swathed with sundry 
 bandages, are lying at the feet of their 
 brethren. 
 
 Besides thoaS already mentioned, the 
 church contains several monuments, 
 among which are two tablets to the me- 
 mory of the earl of Rothes, and the de- 
 ceased members of his family. Hi's 
 lordship's eulogy, written by his countess, 
 paints his virtues in .glowing colors ; it 
 .concludes thus — " His afflicted widow, 
 and once happy wife, inscribes this 
 marble ; an unequal testimony of his 
 worth and excellence, and her afiection, 
 wishing that heaven to her may grace 
 supply, to live as well, and as prepared 
 to die." On. the opposite side is a fair 
 tablet, denoting the vault of the ancient 
 Ctmily of the Steeres, Ockley. 
 
 The exterior of the church has been 
 partly modernised ; and were it not for the 
 beauty of its situation, and the circum- 
 stance of its containing the ashes of John 
 Evelyn^ would little deserve attention. 
 . The porch represented in the accompa- 
 nying sketch is the interesting spot where 
 he was taught to read by the village 
 schoolmaster. 
 
 It may not, perhaps, be generally 
 known, that Mr. William Glanville, one 
 .of the clerks Of the treasury, reposes be- 
 .Jiind the church, and that yearly, on the 
 anniversary of his death, which happened 
 in January, 1717, forty shillings, in ac- 
 cordance to his last will, are or were 
 paid to five poor boys of Wotlon, upon 
 • condition that they should, with their 
 Munds laid on his torn j, reverently re- 
 
 peat the Apostle's creed, the Lord's 
 prayer, the commandments, aid part of 
 the fifteenth chapter of Corinthians, and 
 write in a legible hand two verses of the 
 said chi^pter. The surplus of an annual 
 bequest of £30 he ordered to be applied 
 to other charitable uses. 
 
 J. F. R. 
 Walworth, June 10th, 1831. 
 
 The Palace of Worldly Felicitie. * 
 The palace was situated^ or built, in a 
 pleasant vallie upon the foote of a high 
 mountain, environed with hills on every 
 side, whereby it was not only defended 
 :from force, of tempests which way '.soever 
 the wind blew; but the very hills them- 
 selves were very sightly and serviceable ; 
 for on the one side was a goodly vineyard, 
 wherein grew grapes of sundry sorts ; on 
 the other side it yielded a great quantity 
 of graine ; on another side were proper 
 woods, which yielded a good store of 
 timber and trees, wherein bred all manner 
 of birds ; on another side were warrens 
 and conniboTTOwf^s full of hares and son- 
 nies ; in another place was a goodly park, 
 wherein was no want of deer, red or tal- 
 low. Beyond these hills were goodly 
 forests full of gentlemanly game for hunt- 
 ing. In the valley where the palace stood, 
 was a marvellous faire greene meadow, 
 through the middest whereof ran a river of 
 fine fresh water, upon thebrimmes where- 
 of, on both sides along, grew apple trees, 
 peare trees, plum trees, olive trees, elder 
 trees, oke trees, elm trees, and such like ; 
 fast by the goodly banke,also,~grew many 
 young hasil trees full of nuts, at the time 
 of the yeere ; and, by that againe, such 
 store of walnut trees ; besides many ponds 
 of fish, and excellent orchards of all kinds 
 of fruits, and goodly gardens also of sweet 
 flowers. The river was not without great 
 store of waterfouls ; and, as for the wood, 
 there bred in it hawkes, hemes, pelicans, 
 phesants, cranes, woodcocks, bitterns, kites, 
 crows, cormorants, turtles, woodquists, 
 eagles ; to be short, all kinds of birds 
 possible, as might be perceived by the 
 feathers, which fell from them to the 
 ground pruning themselves ; what should 
 I speak of pigin houses, and of such 
 bankitting places, fine and delicate T why 
 it were bat folly. Besides all this, you 
 
 ♦ From thcVoyage of the Wandering Knight, 
 translated from the French by W. G., and 
 dedicated to Sir F. Drake, (Black letter.) 
 
mr 
 
 THE YEAH. BOOK.— AUGUST 11. 
 
 94 
 
 must think what there were of tennis 
 courts, and other places of pastimes, the 
 walls thereof were very hi^, insomuch 
 that it would have made one aiiiazed, and 
 desire to look down from the top. There 
 was also a raarrailouse moate, and, fearful 
 to behold, the bridge whereof was not 
 broad, and called Desperation, the passage 
 over being along narrow plank, so that, if 
 one "went awrie, he fell in with hazard 
 never to be recovered. The stables were 
 full of goodly horses, as hobbies, jennets, 
 barbed horses, geldings, hackneys, mules, 
 camels, and colts; the kennels full of 
 dogs, as grey-hounds, otter-hounds, hare- 
 hounds, spaniels for land or water, mas- 
 tives for bull, beare, and boare. We supt 
 in a banketting house, and our supper 
 excelled all the fare that ever I saw.* 
 
 TLITTON. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 I. 
 Wc passed the low stone wall, and stood 
 
 Beside the heedless dead. 
 That lay ' unknowing and unknown' 
 
 Each in his narrow bed — 
 Oe'r which the mellow summer sun 
 
 Its ev'ning glories shed. 
 II. 
 And on the sleek and verdant sod, 
 
 A lengthened shadow threw. 
 Where'er an unpretending stone 
 
 Or hillock rose to view ; 
 Trophies that proved death's kingly claim. 
 
 Beyond all pleading, true. 
 III. 
 And there, the chuich-yard path beside, 
 
 A dial stood, to show . 
 How, fleeter than the light-wing'd wings, 
 
 Our minutes come and go. 
 And certain and unceasing change 
 
 Await on all below. 
 
 IV. 
 We gazed upon its tarnished face. 
 
 Just as the solemn chime 
 Rocked the grey tow'r whose sun-lit walls 
 
 Rose on our gaze sublime — 
 And, to the well-tuned heart, it seemed 
 
 To say — " Redeem the time." 
 V. 
 And now we sought the welcome porch. 
 
 Upon -whose front are shown — 
 With russet moss that lies in spots. 
 
 And lichens overgrown. 
 The bearings of my Lord de Grey, 
 
 Carved daintily in stone.f 
 
 * FlittOn church, Bedfordshire, was proba- 
 bly built in the early part of the fifteenth 
 century, by Reginald lord Grey, whose arms, 
 quartering those of Hastings, arc carved on 
 the porch. 
 
 Three azure bars, with other three 
 
 Between, of virgin white. 
 Which cunningly enwrought were borne. 
 
 By that redoubted knight, 
 Sir Henry, at Caerlaveroc, 
 
 When Edward led the fight.* 
 VII. 
 We sat within its quiet shade 
 
 And on the sunny scene. 
 More lovely by the contrast made. 
 
 And pleasingly serene. 
 Gazed with a joy we scarce had known. 
 
 Since life was young and green, 
 vin. 
 Ere pleasure had beea linked to pain— 
 
 And asked ourselves the while. 
 Why man should " toil so hard to gain 
 
 " A monumental pile" 
 That, whilst it craves the stranger's tear. 
 
 Provokes the scomer's smile. 
 IX. 
 But now the grey old oaken door 
 
 Swung open to the touch. 
 And up and down the breezy aisle 
 
 We passed, and pondered much ; 
 Nor, ss we spoke of mortal man. 
 
 Forgot that we were such. 
 X. 
 For as we came within its walla 
 
 So calm a freshness fell 
 Upon OUT minds, we deemed that here 
 
 That perfect peace must dwell 
 Which scatters, from its healing wings. 
 
 Delights which none can tell ; 
 XI. 
 And feared that our unhallowed haste. 
 
 And sounding step, had scared 
 The gentle spirit from its rest — 
 
 Which, as it upward fared. 
 Had waked those stirrings in the air 
 
 Whose influence we shared. 
 XII. 
 And hence, with staid and thoughtful mien. 
 
 We moved along the nave. 
 And through a stately iron gate.* 
 
 * Caerlaveroc eastle, in Scotland, was be- 
 sieged by Edward I., in 1 300. Amongst bis 
 followers was Henry de Grey, a member of 
 this honorable family. His arms, which are 
 precisely the same with those here described, 
 are thus set forth in the old rhyming narra- 
 tive of the siege ; 
 
 " f^mri tre <!Srai, bi ie U 
 Sltiec eon ion seigneut Ie tomftt, 
 ISanter abott il (at Irtoit contt 
 He Vl jieees, la btai mesut— 
 ISatre Ire argent e Ue a{ur." 
 
 The distinguished and amiable, but ill-fated 
 lady Jane, came of this stock. 
 
 ■t The Columbarium of the Greys it en- 
 tered from the nave. It consists of four 
 
949 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 12. 
 
 050> 
 
 Where, o'er the Founder's * grave, 
 A costly monument appeared 
 Our poor regards to crave } 
 
 xm. 
 
 On -which, ,in effigy he lay, 
 A gay and gilded thing. 
 Though dimmed and suUied much by time. 
 
 Whose quick, but jibiseless wing. 
 Fanning the haughty brow, had soothed 
 Its winter into spring. 
 xrv. 
 And close beside, ia silent state. 
 
 Reposed his lady fair — 
 Their faces gazing on the roof. 
 
 Their hands upraised in pray'r. 
 And others of the house and'IiM 
 Of bold de Grey were there, 
 XV. 
 By love and grief so eulo^ed. 
 
 They seemed too good for earth. 
 And yet, the language of the Fall 
 
 Exhibited no dearth 
 Of words, to sound the deathless praise 
 Of such unsullied worth ! 
 XVI. 
 flow by a dark and winding st^r. 
 We gained the turret's height. 
 And feasted on the goodly view 
 ■ Which opened to our sight. 
 In all the greenness of the spring, • 
 And summer's glory^dight, 
 
 XVII. 
 And on the still churchyard beneath — 
 
 Whose soft and grassy sod. 
 So purely bright, it seemed that there 
 
 No human foot had trod — 
 Was raffled with the cells of thoset 
 Whose souls had gone to God — 
 - xvni. 
 Whose souls had gone to God, though few 
 Their days on earth had been, — 
 
 apartments in the form of a cross, tne chaA- 
 cel-cnd of the church occupying the angle 
 formed by its south and west arms. 
 
 * This was Henry, earl of Kent, who built 
 the first room in 1605, He married Mary, 
 danghtrr of sir John Cotton ; and their effi- 
 gies, splendidly habited and crowned, lie di- 
 rectly fronting the gates above mentioned. 
 The other apartments were siUisequently 
 -erected. 
 
 * Wordsworth has 
 
 " the ground beneath 
 Is ruffled with the cells of death." 
 These graves are on the north side of the 
 church, in a spot which, I believe, is not easy 
 of access. There are but few gmvetlonei in 
 this part of the cemetery ; the billowy ridges 
 here adverted to (very many of ■which seem, 
 from their size, raised over the remains pf 
 {nfanttj,"\ieiii%,' in most instances, the only 
 mpmorials for the dead. 
 
 For there how many baby-graves 
 Ranged side by side were seen ! 
 So thickly set, a living child 
 Might scarcely pass between. 
 XIX. 
 And therci we breathed a wish to lie 
 
 Remoti; from folly's noise — 
 It seemed so fit a resting-place 
 Between the care that cloys 
 In siu:h a hollow world as this 
 And Heav'n's enduring joys ! 
 XX. 
 Oh Death of Death ! through whom aloue 
 
 All perfect gifts descend. 
 Give us that stedfast faitii in Thee 
 , Which brings a peaceful end — 
 And whereso'er our bodies rest. 
 Our helpless souls befriend. 
 
 ^U0U0t 12, 
 
 12th August, 1662, died Charles Sey- 
 mour, the proud Duke of Somerset. 
 Charles II., in the last year of his reign, 
 made him a Itnight of the garter. James 
 II. appointed him a lord of the hed cham- 
 ber ; and for refusing to introduce Ferdi- 
 nando Dada, Archbishop of Amasia, the 
 Pope's nuncio, to the public audience at 
 Windsor, discharged him from his place 
 in the palace ; and from the army, as 
 colonel of the third regiment of dragoons. 
 The duke concurred in the Revoltition, but 
 kept in retirement at the beginning of Wil- 
 liam's Teign.' He afterwards took office 
 as president of the council, and a lord 
 justice. Under Qiieen Ann he was mas- 
 ter of the horse, a privy counsellor, and a 
 commissioner for the Union; but at the 
 change of the ministry he was superseded. 
 With theDnke of- Argyle, he forced him- 
 self into the council at Kensington, which 
 had been summoned to deliberate upon 
 the death of the queen, and disconcerted 
 the plans of the tories. George I. named 
 him a lord justice, and guardian of the 
 realm, and on his landing restored him to 
 all his employments ; yet, on bail being 
 refu'sed for his son-in-law, Sir William 
 Wyndham, who was suspected of holding 
 intelligence with the Court of St. Ger- 
 main's, he expressed his sentiments so 
 warmly that he was removed from his 
 office of master of the horse. He had 
 boundless pride. In the reign of Queen 
 Ann he ordered his servants to wear the 
 same livery as her majesty's footmen ; and 
 shot their dresses from a cart into the 
 <:ourt of the palace. He claimed to be 
 
PS I 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 13, 14. 
 
 &ft3 
 
 paid almost regal honors. His servants 
 obeyed by signs ; and he caused the roads 
 in the country to be cleared for him, that 
 he might pass without obstruction or ob- 
 servation. "Go out of the way," said 
 one of his attendants to a countryman, 
 who wfis driving a hog. " Why ?" said 
 the man, " Because my lord duke is 
 coming, and he does not like to be looked 
 upon." The offended countryman seized 
 his hog by the ears, and held hira up to 
 the carriage window, exclaiming, " I will 
 see him, and my pig shall see him too." 
 The duke married twice. His second 
 duchess once familiarly tapped him on 
 the shoulder with her fan ; he turned 
 round indignantly and said, " My first 
 duchess was a Percy, and she never took 
 such a liberty." Hischildren obeyed his 
 mandates with slavish respect. His 
 two younger daiighters were required to 
 stand and watch, alternately, whilst he 
 slept after dinner. One of them, upon 
 such an occasion, sat down from fatigue ; 
 her noble father awoke, and observing her 
 position declared he would make her re- 
 member her want of decorum ; and he 
 kept his word, by leaving her, in his will, 
 £20,000 less than her sister. Pride was 
 inherent in the Seymours. King William, 
 at a levee, casually observed to Sir Gower 
 Seymour, Speaker of the House of Com- 
 mons, that he believed ht was of " the 
 Duke of Somerset's family." '' No Sir," 
 said the indignant baronet, " His Grace 
 is of mine." * 
 
 stroyed,.and an equal number maimed or 
 wounded. 
 
 h, m. 
 
 Aiigust.12. Day breaks ... 2 4 
 
 Sun rises ... 4 37 
 
 — sets .... r 23 
 
 Twilight ends . . 9 56 
 
 Oats frequently carried about this time. 
 
 ^ttgu«it 13. 
 
 13th August, 1822, an earthquake de- 
 vastated the greater part of Syria. It 
 began about half past nine in the evening, 
 and, in ten or twelve seconds, Aleppo, 
 Antioch, Idlib, Riha, Gisser Shogr, 
 Darcoush, Armenas, and every village 
 and detached cottage in the pachalic of 
 Aleppo, and several towns in the adjoin- 
 ing territories, were entirely ruined. — 
 Twenty thousand human beings were de- 
 
 • Noble. 
 
 August 13. 
 
 Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 — sets 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 2 7 
 4 39 
 7 21 
 9 63 
 
 Chrysanthemums, China asters, and 
 various other ann\»als blowing. 
 
 ^ugu0t 14. 
 
 HoRSE-SHOE Custom at Gaeiiam. 
 
 14th August, 1654, Evelyn says, "I took 
 a journey into the northern-parts.- Riding 
 through Oakham, a pretty town in Rut- 
 landshire, famous for the tenure of the 
 barons (Ferrers) who held it by taking off 
 a shoe from every nobleman's horse that 
 passes with his lord through the street, 
 unless redeemed with a certain piece of 
 money. In token of this are several 
 gilded shoes nailed on the castle gate, 
 which seems to have been large and fair." 
 A shoe was paid for by the Duke of York 
 in 1788. 
 
 Horse-shoes. 
 
 According to Aristotle and Pliny, shoes 
 of raw hides were put upon camels m 
 war-time, and during long journeys. — 
 Arrian mentions soles or shoes among the 
 riding furniture of an ass. Xenophon 
 relates .that the Asiatics used socks to 
 prevent their horses sinking in the sands. 
 The Greek work " selinaia," a horse-shoe, 
 first occurs in the ninth century, when it 
 was only used in time of frost, or upon 
 special occasions. Nero's mules had shoes 
 of gold or silver. Winckelman figures a 
 gem with a man holding up the foot of a 
 horse, and another shoeing it. Sir Richard 
 Colt Hoare found halves of two shoes in 
 a British barrow. Dr. Meyrick says, 
 "the Normans first introduced the art of 
 shoeing horses as at present practised in 
 England ;" yet there were dug up at Col- 
 ney, in Norfolk, Roman urns, and a horse- 
 shoe of uncommon form, round and broad 
 in front, narrowing very much backward, 
 and having its extreme ends almost 
 brought close behind, and rather pointing 
 upwards, with the nail holes still perfect.* 
 
 There were superstitious beliefs and 
 practices respecting horse-shoes. Aubrey 
 tells, that, in his time, "It is a thing very 
 
 * Fosbroke's Ency, of Antq. 
 
953 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 15: 
 
 954 
 
 common to nail hoi-se-slioes on the 
 thresholds of doors ; whicli is to hinder the 
 power of witches that enter into the house. 
 Most houses of the west of London have 
 the horse-shoe on the threshold. It should 
 be a horse-shoe that one finds. In the 
 Bermudas they use to put an iron into 
 the fire when a witch comes in. Mars is 
 enemy to Saturn." He adds, " Under the 
 porch of Staninfield Church, in Suffolk, 
 I saw a tile with a horse-shoe upon it, 
 placed there for this purpose, though one 
 would imagine that Holy Water would 
 alone have been sufficient. I am told 
 there are many other similar instances." 
 In 1797, Mr. Brand says," In Monraouth- 
 street, many horse-shoes nailed to the 
 thresholds are still to be seen. There is 
 one at the corner of Little Queen-street, 
 Holborn." April 26th, 1813, Mr. Ellis 
 " counted no less than seventeen horse- 
 shoes in Monmouth-street, nailed against 
 the steps of doors." 
 
 In Gay's Fable of « The Old Woman 
 and her Cats," the supposed Witch com- 
 plains as follows : — • 
 
 • Croads of boys 
 
 Worry .me with eternal noise ; 
 
 Straws laid across my pace retard. 
 
 The hoTse-sboe's nailed (each threshold's 
 
 guard). 
 The stunted broom the wenches bide. 
 For fear tliat 1 should up and ride. 
 
 "That the horse-shoe may never oe 
 pulled from your threshold" occurs among 
 the good wishes introduced by Barton 
 Holiday in his " Marriage of the Arts." 
 Nailing of horse-shoes seems to have been 
 practised as well to keep witches in, as to 
 keep them out. Mt, Donee's manuscript 
 notes upon his copy of Bourn's " Vulgar 
 Errors," say, "The practice of nailing 
 horse-shoes to thresholds resembles that 
 of driving nails into the walls of cotteges 
 among the Romans, which they believed 
 to be an antidote against the plague ; for 
 this purpose L. Manlius, A. U. C. 390, 
 was named Dictator, to drive the nail. 
 See Mr. Luraisden's Remarks on the An- 
 tiquities of Rome, p. 148." 
 
 Misson says, in his travels in England, 
 " Having often observed a horse-shoe 
 nailed to the threshold of a door (among 
 the meaner sort of people), I asked several 
 what was the reason of it; they gave me 
 several different answers; but the most 
 general was, that they were put there to 
 keep out witches. It is true they laugh 
 when they say^ this^ but yet they do not. 
 
 laugh at it altogetner; for they believe 
 there is, or at least may be, some secret 
 virtue concealed in it ; and, if they 
 were not of this opinion, they would not 
 be so careful as they are to nail it to their 
 thresholds." 
 
 Handsel. 
 
 Misson, after remarking ns above, upon 
 horse-shoes, says, " This little superstition 
 puts me in mind of another. A woman 
 that goes much to market told me, t'other 
 day, that the butcher-women of London, 
 those that sell fowls, butter, eggs &c., and 
 in general most trades' people have a par- 
 ticular esteem for what they call handsel, 
 that is to say, the first money they receive 
 in a morning ; they kiss it, spit upon it, 
 and put it in a pocket by itself." Lemon 
 explains '.' Haudsell" to be, " the first 
 money received at market, which many 
 superstitious people will spit on, either to 
 render it' tenacious that it may remain 
 with them, and not vanish away like a 
 faity gift, or else to render it propitious 
 and lucky, that it may draw more money 
 to it." The latter is at this day (1831) 
 the prevailing belief with lovers of handsel 
 among the London dealers in markets, 
 and hawkers of provision in the streets. 
 
 • 
 
 h. m. 
 
 ugust 14. Day breaks . . 
 
 2 10 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 4 41 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 7 19 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 9 50 
 
 Ragweed flowers. 
 
 
 Hoary fleabane in full flower. 
 
 
 ^ugu0t 15. 
 
 Gbild op the Assumption. 
 
 Mr. Dawson Turner, in his work on 
 Normandy, describes a ceremony of the 
 Guild of the Assumption, at Dieppe, in- 
 stituted by the governor des Morets, in 
 1443,. in honor of the final expulsion of 
 the English. Des Morets himsell was 
 the first grand master of the guild. 
 
 About midsummer the principal inha- 
 bitants used to assemble at the Hotel de 
 Ville, and there they selected the girl of 
 the most exemplary character to represent 
 the Virgin Mary, and, with her, six other 
 young women to act the parts of the daugh- 
 ters of Sion. The honor of figuring in 
 this holy drama was greatly coveted; and 
 the historian of Dieppe gravely . assures 
 us that the earnestness felt on the occasion 
 
65S 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 15, 
 
 956 
 
 mainly contributed to the preservation of 
 that purity of manners, and that genuine 
 piety, which subsisted in this town longer 
 than in any other in France ! But the 
 election of the Virgin was not sufficient : 
 a representative of St. Peter was also to 
 be found amongst th&«lergy; and the 
 laity were so fair favored that Uiey were 
 permitted to furnish the eleven other 
 apostles. This done, upon the fourteenth 
 of August the Virgin was laid in a cradle 
 of the form of a fount, and was carried 
 early in the morning, attended by her 
 suite, of either sex, to the church of St. 
 Jacques ; while before the door of the 
 master of the guild was stretched a large 
 carpet, embroidered with verses in letters 
 of gold, setting forth his own good quali- 
 ties, and bis love for the holy Mary. 
 Hither also, as soon as Laiides had been 
 sung, the procession repaired from the 
 church, and then they were joined by the 
 governors of the town, the members of 
 the guild, the municipal officers, and the 
 clergy of the parish of St. Remi. Thus 
 attended they paraded the town, singing 
 hymns, which were accompanied by a 
 full band. The procession was increased 
 by the great body of the inhabitants, and 
 its impressiveness was still further aug- 
 mented by numbers of the youth of either 
 sex, who assumed the garb and attributes 
 of their patron saints, and mixed in the 
 immediate train of the principal actors. 
 They then again repaired to the church, 
 where Te Deum was sung by the full 
 choir, in commemoration of the victory 
 over the English, and high mass wlis per- 
 formed, and the sacrament administered 
 to the whole party. During the service 
 a scenic representation was given of the 
 " Assumption of the Virgin." A scaffold- 
 ing was raised, reaching nearly to the top 
 of the xlome, and supporting an azure 
 canopy, intended to emulate the "spangled 
 vault of- heaven ;" and about two feet 
 below the summit of it appeared, seated 
 on a splendid throne, an old man, as the 
 image of the Father Almighty, — a repre- 
 sentation equally absurd and impious, 
 and which could be tolerated only by the 
 votaries of the worst superstitions of 
 popery. On either side four paste-board 
 angels, of the size of men, floated in the 
 air, and flapped their wings in cadence to 
 the sounds of the organ ; while above was 
 suspended a large triangle, at whose 
 corners were placed three smaller angeU, 
 who, at the intermission of each- office, 
 performed upon a set of little bells the . 
 
 hymn of " Ave Maria gratis Dei plena 
 per secula," &c., accompanied by a larger 
 angel on each side, with a trumpet. To 
 complete this portion of the spectacle, 
 others below the old man's feet held 
 tapers, which were lighted as the services 
 began, aind extinguished at their close; 
 on which occasions the figures were made 
 to express reluctance by turning quickly 
 about ; so that it required some dexterity 
 to apply the extinguishers. At the com- 
 mencement of the mass,' two of the angels 
 by the side of the Abnighty descended to 
 the foot of the altar, and, placing them- 
 selves by the tornb^ in which a pasteboard 
 figure of the Virgin had been substituted 
 for her living representative, gently raised 
 it to the feet of the Father. The imngp, 
 as it mounted, from time to time lifted its 
 head, and extended its arms, as if con- 
 scious of the approaching beatitude ; then, 
 after having received the benediction, and 
 been encircled, by another angel, with a 
 crown of glory, it gradually disappeared 
 behind the clouds. At this instant a buf- 
 foon, who all the time had been playing 
 his antics below, burst into an extravagant 
 fit of joy ; at one moment clapping his 
 hands most violently, at the next stretching 
 himself out as dead, and, finally, he ran 
 up to the feet of the old man, and hid 
 himself under his legs, so as toshow only 
 his head. The people called him Gr'm- 
 uldi, an appellation that appears to have 
 belonged to him by usage. 
 
 1655. Feb. 24. Mr. Evelyn notes his 
 having seen a curious mechanical con- 
 trivance. " I was showed a table clock, 
 whose balance was only a chrystal ball 
 sliding on parallell irons without being at 
 all fixed, but rolling from stage to stage 
 till it was thrown up to the utmost channel 
 again, made with an imperceptible decli- 
 vity ; in this continual vicissitude of mo- 
 tion prettily entertaining the eye every 
 half minute, and the next half giving pro- 
 gress to the hand that showed the hour, 
 and giving notice by a small bell, so as 
 in 120 half minutes, or periods of the 
 bullets falling on the ejaculatory spring, 
 the clock-part struck. This very extra- 
 ordinary piece (richly adorned) had been 
 presented by some German prince to our 
 late King, and was now in possession of 
 the Usurper, valued at £200.'' 
 
957 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 16, 17. 
 
 958 
 
 h. tn. 
 
 August 15. Day breaks . . 2 14 
 
 Sun rises ... 4 42 
 
 — sets ... 7 18 
 
 Twilight ends '. . 9 46 
 
 Virgin's bower, or traveller's joy, in full 
 
 flower. 
 
 Lerifts begin to migrate. 
 
 ^ugu^t 16. 
 
 A Victory — as per Margin. 
 16 August, 1718. Admiral Walton 
 having been detached with the Canter- 
 bury, and five other ships, against the 
 Spanish fleet, announced his success to 
 admiral Byng, in the following letter, 
 which deserves remembrance, as a record 
 of its gallant writer's bravery and brevity: 
 
 [Copy.] 
 
 TAKEN. 
 
 Sib Admiral Mart 
 
 ' and four men 
 
 We have taken and de- "^ "" "f 6**, 
 
 stroyed all the Spanbh ships 54. 40, and 24 
 
 and vessels which were upon f""'> * . f 
 
 the coast. The number as l^f^^J'^^ 
 
 per Margm. bomb-vessel. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 G. Waltoh. 
 
 Canterbury, off Syracuse, 
 August 16, 1718. 
 
 August 16. Day breaks 
 Sun rises . 
 — sets 
 Twilight efids 
 Elegant Zennia flowers. 
 
 BURNT. 
 Four men of 
 warof 54, 44, 
 40. and 30 
 guns. A fire- 
 ship, a bomb- 
 vessel. 
 
 h. m. 
 2 17 
 4 44 
 7 16 
 9 43 
 
 ^U0U0t 17. 
 
 Wakes. 
 
 Most of the sports remaining at coun- 
 try festivals appear to' be enjoyed at 
 Didsbury, in Lancashire. The Stockport 
 Advertiser, of August 5, 1825, contains 
 the following paragraph. 
 
 " Didsbury Wakes will be celebrated 
 on the 8lh, 9th, and 10th of August. A 
 long bill of fare of the diversions to be 
 enjoyed at this most delightful village has 
 been published. — The enjoyments consist 
 chiefly of ass-races, for purses of gold; 
 prison-bar playing, and grinning through 
 collars, for ale ; bag-racing, for hats ; foot- 
 racing, for sums of money ; maiden plates 
 for ladies under twenty years of age, for 
 gown-pieces, shawls, &c. ; treacled-loaf' 
 eating, for various rewards; smoking 
 matches; apple-dumpling eating; wheel- 
 barrow-racing, the best heats ; bell-racing, 
 and balls, each evening. ' Que nunc 
 prescribere longum est.' The humors ot 
 Didsbury Festival are always well regu- 
 lated — the display of youths of both 
 sexes, vieing with each other in dress and 
 fashion, as well as cheerful and blooming 
 faces, is not exceeded by any similar 
 event — and the gaieties of each day are 
 succeeded by the evening parties fantas- 
 tically tripping through the innocent 
 relaxation of country dances, reels, &c., 
 to as fevorite tunes, at the Cock and Ring 
 o'Bells Inns." 
 
 h. m, 
 Augus 17. Day breaks . . 2 20 
 Sun rises ... 4 46 
 — sets . . . 7 14 
 Twilight ends . . 9 40 
 Square stalked winter cherry flowers. 
 Weeping willow begins to shed its 
 leaves.' 
 Wasps begin to be common. 
 
 THE FLYING DUTCHMAN. 
 
 [For the Year Boo^.} 
 
 One stormy night, in August (87), 
 
 A ship was tost on the Pacific Sea 
 
 (So call'd, because each fickle wind of heaven, 
 
 Disturbs its placid waves in this degree : 
 
 Suppose ten vessels oy the said winds tost. 
 
 Nine, of the ten will certainly be lost — ) 
 
949 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 17 960 
 
 A ship, I said, pursued its awkward course, 
 In the predicament of a raging storm, 
 Brimful of negroes carried off by force. 
 And going to market to be sold in form. 
 The captain's name I cannot think of yet 
 (These Dutch names 'tis so easy to forget). 
 Thus much I know, his vessel was a cutter, 
 H is mate a negro of the name of Smutta. 
 
 The storm encreas'd — the captain thought each minute 
 The ship must sink, and every person in it ; 
 So, conscience-stricken by the angry waves, 
 He order'd Smutta to unloose the slaves, 
 Who long had languished, huddled up in coffins, 
 Exposed to threats and stripes, and kicks and scoffings- 
 Their food dried shark, and other dainty fish ; ■* 
 
 But potted grampus was the standard dish, 
 
 A pound of which was every day, at noon, » 
 
 Cramm'd down their gullets with a wooden spoon. 
 
 'Tis said, " In danger ceremony ends," 
 So Smutta went down and released his friends ; 
 Who, much rejoiced at unforeseen relief. 
 Forthwith proclaim'd that villain black their cliief. 
 —So far, so good — but liberty restor'd, 
 " Revenge ! Revenge ! " became the general cry, 
 Captain and crew were all thrown overboard. 
 Oh, slaves, for shame ! for shame ! oh, Smutta, fie ! 
 They were in truth ill us'd, but Smutta had 
 No cause to grumble.— Smutta, 'twas too bad. 
 
 However, to my talc. — ^The night came on. 
 And yet the tempest's wrath wax'd wild and dread. 
 And now and then a ray of moonlight shone. 
 In lurid loneliness o'er ocean's bed. 
 Pale and alarm'd stood Smutta on the deck. 
 Wistfully looking at the roaring waves, . 
 In sad expectance of approaching wreck. 
 And round him all the just enfrauchis'd slaves. 
 " Oh, what is that V cries Smutta in affright, 
 " Him see alongside of our little ship ! 
 Him pale, him grim, him thin, him all iti white. 
 And in him bony hand him hold a whip !" 
 " Smutta, 'tis I, your injur'd captain's ghost, 
 One comfort I have left, you'll all be lost. 
 You and your rascal crew ; for, since you threw me 
 Into the element in which you view me, 
 I have not lost my time, but made you over. 
 To Vanderdecken, that eternal rover. 
 And this for making spectres of your betters ; 
 Fool that I was to free you from your fetters ! 
 So think and tremble at your coming fate. 
 No pray'rs, no blubb'ring, both are now too late 1' 
 
 The ghost spake truth, the phantom ship appear'd, 
 His ghastly head its horrid captain rear'd^ 
 A shower of brimstone shortly sunk the cutter, 
 Drown'd the unlucky crew and smothcr'd Smutta. 
 
 March. 1331. ^"■°''- 
 
961 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST IT 
 
 »€2 
 
 UTRECHT FAIR. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 n July 1828, accompanied by two 
 friends, I arrived about mid-day at 
 TJtrecht, where, by being detained for 
 want of conveyance until the ftillowing 
 day, we were afForded the opportunity of 
 seeing a Dutch merry-making. 
 
 Our hotel, though in the centre of this 
 fine town, had a neat rural appearance. 
 There were seats with tables in front, in 
 the tea-garden style, shaded with awnings 
 in a tasty manner, for parties desirous 
 of enjoying refreshments and the fun of 
 the fair at the same time. Passing these, 
 we mixed with the crowd, and a few 
 steps brought us to preparations in 
 the middle of the road for" the Egg- 
 Dance, so strikingly described by Goethe 
 in " Wilhelm Meister." The exhibitors 
 were a man in the usual spangled dress, 
 a lad with a pipe and tabor, and a child 
 about ten years old, equippeq in trowsers 
 tightened round the ancle. The counte- 
 nance of the last was rather interesting, 
 but without an expression from which its 
 sex could be determined; yet, from the 
 peculiar tenderness of manner with which 
 
 Vol. I.— 31 
 
 it clung to the man tor a lew seconos 
 after he had bound the handkerchief 
 round its eyes, I felt convinced it must 
 be a girl. The merit of the performer in 
 this dance consists in executing a compli- 
 cated figure blindfold, amongst a number 
 of eggs, without touching them. Fourteen 
 eggs were arranged' on the ground at 
 about two feet distance from each other, 
 and after some delay from the pres^re of 
 the crowd, and a cliimsy waggon, which 
 rolled ponderously through the groiip and 
 broke some of the eggs, the child ap- 
 proached to commence the dance ; but 
 she stepped among the eggs so cautiously, 
 and held her head so much as if trying to 
 peep under the handkerchief, that, to use 
 an American phrase, the dance was 
 "another guess sort of thing from the 
 brilliant evolutions of Goethe's airy 
 Mignon. However, thotigh falling short 
 of what I had anticipated, it must have 
 required considerable skill and practice to 
 avoid, as she certainly did, treading on 
 any of the eggs ; for I have seen a good 
 performer of the sword-dance in the 
 Highlands of Scotland, which is done by 
 2 I ' 
 
963 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 17. 
 
 064 
 
 stepping to a figure between two broad- 
 swords laid crossways, even with his eyes 
 uncovered and exhibiting for a prize too, 
 unable to complete it without his toe 
 coming In contact with some part of the 
 weapons. 
 
 Our hotel fronted a large open space 
 forming a sort of promenade, well suited 
 for the booths and shows, which extended 
 towards the right into a still wider open- 
 ingjlikea greatmarket-place,whichwas the 
 principal rendezvous for the amusements. 
 In this space were two large temporary cir- 
 cuses of wood for horsemanship, besides 
 the usual proportion of other exhibitions 
 and shows of wild beasts and mon- 
 strosities. And here too was a large col- 
 lection of those swings and round-abouts 
 which are now almost banished from the 
 few fairs still lingering near London. I 
 confess to a partiality for a round-about, 
 where children ride on wooden horses, 
 or in little coaches, while others who are 
 allowed the pleasure of going within the 
 circle, on condition of helping to push the 
 machine and swell the hurrah, swing 
 themselves without permission on the 
 spokes, till it is wonderful that the ma- 
 chine revolves at all. I have observed 
 children of six feet high upon a round- 
 about. At our own Bartholomew fair I 
 once saw two full-grown sailors smoking 
 their pipes upon hobbies, one behind the 
 other, during their revolution maintaining 
 a gravity which finely contrasted with the 
 redoubled cheering of the lesser children 
 at so respectable a sanction to their sport. 
 At Utrecht Fair the progeny of the phleg- 
 matic Dutch sat with due decorum, while 
 their papas and mamas watched their 
 progress upon the wooden nags, and 
 seemed as much pleased with it as them- 
 selves. 
 
 Leftwards from our hotel, leading to 
 the church, the street on both sides and 
 in the middle was filled with rows of 
 booths ; and there was a plentiful exposure 
 of articles of every description, outside the 
 shops, to tempt the passing throng. 
 
 Nearly opposite the hotel was the 
 theatre, a building of some architectural 
 pretension, comprehending within its 
 vpalls an assembly room and a tavern. In 
 this room a concert was performing, 
 price of aJ mission three pence each. 
 We paid, and received tickets entitling 
 each holder to a small glass of spirits, 
 or liqueure, which male and female at- 
 tendants handed about upon trays amongst 
 the company, in a large handsome room 
 
 on the ground floor below the theatre, 
 elegantly ornamented with festoons of 
 pink and white drapery, and filled with 
 tables and benches. During the intervals 
 of the concert there was a prodigious 
 noise of tongues, and clinking of glasses, 
 while the fumes of tobacco mounted to 
 the roof; for almost every male visitor 
 was puffing a pipe or cigar. Some re- 
 spectably dressed young men, smoking 
 and drinking at the tables next the or 
 chestra, seemed par excellance the critics, 
 and gave the tone to the applause. The 
 performance was, vocal and instrumental, 
 in two acts. Three of the singers were 
 females. The airs were spiritedly sung; 
 and the band played overtures and other 
 pieces virith good effect. 
 
 At three o'clock we sat down to dinner 
 with about forty, at the Table d'hote of 
 our hotel, and a large party dined in 
 another room. Considering the Wstle of 
 the fair-day, every thing was excellently 
 served. While eating we were serenaded 
 in the room by two strolling companies of 
 musicians. The first consisted of five 
 performers upon different instruments: 
 a French horn and a clarionette were 
 played by women. The other party was 
 vocal ; one of the women sang with a full 
 rich voice. The prettiest woman of each 
 group came round to collect contributions; 
 and 1 believe every body at table gave a 
 trifle ; alt subscribed with cheerfulness, and 
 sometimes with a joke or compliment. 
 
 After dinner we contrived to find places 
 amongst the parties who occupied the 
 seats outside. Among them were several 
 military officers. We drunk Murken- 
 brenner wine,, smoked cigars, and en- 
 joyed the irresistible attraction of the 
 moving scene before us. There was a 
 charm in the novelty of our situation ; for 
 we were accidentally thrown into the 
 midst of the festivities of a Dutch fair, 
 and, surrounded with living evidences of 
 the correctness of Teniers's figures, un- 
 changed in costume and manners. To 
 watch the countenances and pursuits of 
 Uie ever-shifting mass was inexpressibly ■ 
 amusing to us. The variety of charactej 
 was quite a study; and I wished I had been 
 a painter, to fix the appearance of one par- 
 ticular group. It appeared to consist of 
 a family of four generations : the costume 
 of the youngest child did not seem more 
 modern than that of the oldest adult. Its 
 forms might even have been ancient when 
 the old men and women were of the, age 
 of the boys and girls whom they tended : 
 
«65 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 1?'. 
 
 966 
 
 not that the individual garments were so 
 old — although the substantial flowered 
 gowns and petticoats were fit to last for 
 ages — on the contrary they looked fresh, 
 and of such good materials as to augur 
 comfortable circumstances ; but the fashion 
 of the dresses, and the tout-ensemble of 
 the wearers, smacked of a residence in some 
 retired village, inipervious to the impres- 
 sion made by time — even in Dutch cities 
 and towns. The youngest of the family, 
 an infant girl, was tottering along, holding 
 with one hand the great coat of her grand- 
 father, who carried a toy he had treated 
 her with; while a woman, assuredly her 
 great grandmother, almost doubled with 
 age, hobbled in the rear. The little child- 
 ren of the party Wore black caps fitting 
 close to the head, bordered -with broad 
 handsome fringe, with large broad buckles 
 on their little shoes, extending like those 
 of the elders to the very toe. A profusion 
 of gold ornaments adorned all the females 
 of the party, particularly vast appendages 
 from their ears. 
 
 Among the incidents that occur to me, 
 I remember an old woman hawked about 
 a pigeon entirely red, a bright red, which 
 we believed to be artificially colored, 
 although upon examination we could not 
 prove it : she long endeavoured to per- 
 suade us to purchase this wonderful bird. 
 A boy with a little guinea-pig amused us 
 exceedingly by his perseverance in placing 
 it on the tables, while he was as perse- 
 veringly driven off by the attendants of 
 the hotel ; the -poor animal was some- 
 times roughly treated by being thrown 
 after him, or getting under people's feet, 
 so that what money the urchin collected 
 was chiefly out of pity for the pig. We 
 were also continually solicited by wan- 
 dering dealers to purchase walking-sticks, 
 trinkets, and eatables. Among the latter, 
 hot oblong cakes, striped crossways, with 
 some peculiar but forgotten name, were 
 very abundant : they were carried in tins, 
 generally by neatly-dressed little girls, 
 one of whom looked so becomingly, and 
 her cakes were so nicely browned, that 
 we were tempted to , taste them : they 
 were something like Yorkshire pudding, 
 but much lighter. In the course of the 
 evening we saw these cakes manufac- 
 tured : they were literally cast in metal 
 moulds, held in the hand, like those for 
 pistol bullets. 
 
 We observed at one corner of a show 
 a small up-and-down revolving at full 
 swing. The solemn eouiienatices of the 
 
 children in the cars led us to philosophize 
 upon these examples of Dutch gravity, 
 when to our surprise, upon going near, 
 we discovered the figures to be wax-work, 
 and that what appeared a crowd of 
 people on the platform was considerably 
 increased by wax figures, the motion of 
 whose heads, occasioned by the motion of 
 the platform, added to the illusion. The 
 groups were well managed, and the 
 master and his deputies had each a waxen 
 double. Presuming that where so much 
 could be afforded o.itside the interior 
 would bev inspection, we obtained ad- 
 mission, and were ushered into a tole- 
 rably spacious apartment, with w^x-work 
 ranged around, from the floor to some 
 height against the walls. There were two 
 prices, and as we had paid the highest 
 we were entitled to proceed among the 
 figures, within a railing which separated 
 us from the lower-price spectators. A 
 soldier and one or two other persons 
 were shown round with us. The cicerone, 
 a boy, seemed to address himself ex- 
 clusively to us English. He enquired 
 with great formality, if we understood 
 French, and, on our nodding assent, he 
 commenced in that language to describe 
 potentates, statesmen, literary characters 
 both ancient and modern, and the royal 
 families of, I think, every country in 
 Europe except England, besides the 
 court of Brazil. All the figures were as 
 large as life, and appropriately dressed. 
 The boy introduced every personage in 
 the most ceremonious and elaborate style, 
 conscientiously giving their full titles, 
 and adding pompous panegyrics, with a 
 perseverance and gravity which we were 
 unwilling to~ interrupt by laughing, al- 
 though we could scarcely refrain. Aliteral 
 version of his descriptive harangue would 
 have been as amusing as the show boys' at 
 Manchester College, inserted in the Year 
 Book. The variety and impartiality of 
 his epithets was immeasurably ludicrous. 
 He applied titles and good qualities as 
 lavishly to "Napoleon 1' Empereur" as 
 to " Louis le Roi." Even " Ferdinand 
 VII.," a ticklish subject to compliment, 
 he announced as Sa Majesty trhs Cathg- 
 ligue et tris fidlle, Ferdinand sept, Roi 
 d'Espagne, Ssc Sfc. General Foy, the, 
 liberal, was grand ; and Chateaubriand, 
 the royalist, Ulustre ; the latter he mouthed 
 "Monsieur de Chateau-6r«7/ian*;" af- 
 fording unconsciously a sort of character 
 belonging to the style of that agreeable 
 writer. The death of Napoleon formed a 
 2 12 
 
967 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 17. 
 
 068 
 
 large group, in neat and apparently cor- 
 rect costume ; the face of the dying em- 
 peror was really well given, and we were 
 assured the whole was an exact represen- 
 tation of the scene at St. Helena at seven 
 o'clock in the evening. Amongst the by- 
 standers were Sir Hudson Lowe, and a 
 catholic priest in full canonicals. In 
 counterpart to this was the death of the 
 duke de Berri, from the shot he received 
 at the old Opera-house at Paris. An 
 archbishop splendidly dressed attended 
 him, and the duchess, with the young 
 duke of Bourdeaux, and other figures, 
 stood near. Presently we came to au- 
 thentic likenesses of "Susannah and the 
 Elders !" For the benefit of the ignorant it 
 may be Stated, upon the authority of this 
 show, that the Hebrew maiden's features 
 and the arrangement of her hair were de- 
 cidedly those of a little French milliner. 
 These personages assorted oddly with the 
 grandees of the age ; but the exhibition 
 was iio doubt got up in France, where 
 they treat the ancients more as familiar 
 acquaintances than we venture to do, 
 either from a knowledge of their names 
 being more popularly spread, or from a 
 deficiency in that imagination which 
 leads us to look back upon antiquity 
 through the halo of distant years. In 
 this exhibition Greek and Roman classic 
 characters were ranked with the kings and 
 courtiers of the day; upon the same prin- 
 ciple perhaps that a gentleman of my 
 acquaintance, viewing the gardens at 
 Versailles, had a statue pointed out to 
 him by the guide as " The Great Sampson ! 
 — the strongest man in France ! " 
 
 Various diversions remained for our 
 cveniiig amusement, and we had to choose 
 between them. There was to be another 
 concert in the room we had visited be- 
 fore, and on a far superior scale, judging 
 from the vastly increased price of admis- 
 sion. There was also to be a regular 
 play at the theatre, the bills of which 
 announced that gentlemen in " military 
 costume" would be charged only half- 
 price. One of the circuses already 
 mentioned, which promised "splendid 
 horsemanship, with the wonderful per- 
 formances of an elephant," seemed so 
 decidedly the general favorite as to turn 
 the scale of our deliberations. We found 
 the interior strongly and neatly fitted 
 up, with a circular arena, much larger 
 than the pit at Astley''s. The sur- 
 rounding seats gradually rose above 
 each other to the roof, and were divided 
 
 into compartments : the admission prices 
 differed according to the distance. The 
 audience being dressed in their holiday- 
 clothes, the amphitheatre presented a 
 gay covp-d'tcil. Compared with Ducrow's 
 at Astley's, the feats of horsemanship were 
 by no means brilliant, although the troop 
 was more numerous, and went through 
 more chivalric and military manceuvres, 
 than we usually see in England. Their 
 caparisons as knights were very showy, 
 and some of their movements, imitating the 
 mazes of a dance, were singularly clever 
 and picturesque. The evolution which 
 most excited admiration was, when drawn 
 up in line from the centre of the ring to the 
 circumference, each man, wielding a 
 lancer's flag, rode round in the same 
 order, like the spoke of a wheel, the 
 innermost performer merely turning his 
 horse as the pivot upon which the rest 
 revolved; the speed of each increased 
 according to the distance from this point, 
 so tl>^t the outside horseman had to ride 
 at full gallop. At last the great attrac- 
 tion, the elephant, was introduced, and 
 went through her achievements of sagacity 
 and strengtli with unbounded applause. 
 The delight of the Dutch was carried to 
 the highest by the animal's supper, which 
 seemed a trial of rapidity between her 
 and her attendants. As fast as she pulled 
 a bell-rope with her trunk a plate of food 
 was presented, which she threw as fast into 
 her mouth, and again extended her trunk 
 as fast to the bell. Each successive pull 
 was hailed with vociferation. The ele- 
 phant, though evidently young, was of 
 sufficient size and strength to carry nearly 
 a dozen men on her back. I venture to 
 speak of her as a female, because, after 
 the formal announcement of what she was 
 to do by her ostensible master, her actual 
 keeper in plain clothes, who kept himself 
 out of observation as much as possible, 
 gave the real word of command in a low 
 but decided tone, and the oracular syl- 
 lables he uttered were English. I recol- 
 lect the newspaper accounts of the debftt 
 of Miss Djeck, at the Adelphi Theatre ; 
 and felt that the elephant at Utrecht fair was 
 no other than Miss Djeck, of the Adelphi. 
 Upon going to see her afterwards at that the- 
 atre I had little doubt of the fact : mar^ 
 of her exploits at Utrecht, and particularly 
 the supper, were repeated in Londbn 
 almost verbatim. At the conclusion o. 
 the representations, a person dressed like 
 a cavalry officer came forward to thank 
 the audience, to praise the performances, 
 
669 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST ir. 
 
 970 
 
 and to announce those of the following 
 day. He delivered himself in formal 
 phrase, and in the French language, which 
 is extensively understood amongst the 
 middle classes, and I heard a party of 
 ladies behind me expatiate vrith rapture 
 on the elegance of his style. Before 
 leaving the place, we thought we should 
 he performers ourselves in a sort of 
 quarrel. One of my friends had inad- 
 vertently caused a lad's hat to fall through 
 the openings of the wood-work to the 
 ground, which was about fifteen feet down 
 from wherewe sat ; instead of end eavouring 
 to recover it, the youngster, with true 
 Dutch phlegm, had contented himself 
 with giving die unintentional offender an 
 occasional push; but, when he saw us 
 going away, he formally stopped my 
 friend to demand his hat^ in Dutch, of 
 which we did not understand a word. 
 We were soon made acquainted with his 
 object, and some of our neighbours vo- 
 lunteered to drop down in search of the 
 hat, when lo ! it was not to be found. I 
 also joined in the search, and at last the 
 lad himself went down in a rage. While he 
 was below, we were advised to retreat at 
 once, or, as he seemed very cross-grained, 
 he might give us trouble. In passing one 
 of the doors we were nearly involved 
 in a more general uproar; for some of 
 the people coming out insisted upon 
 shutting the door, while others resisted ; 
 but, after a good deal of consternation 
 and scolding, the hubbub subsided, and 
 we soon found ourselves in the open air. 
 It was now too late for any other show, 
 and the play at the theatre was entirely 
 over. We observed some peculiarities in 
 our night ramble. Perhaps the most sin- 
 gular one was the manufacture of a 
 species of small cakes to be eaten on the 
 spot. A place nearly opposite our hotel was 
 ranged out into a sort of Street of booths, or 
 rather temporary houses. At the door of 
 each stood a furnace, and upon each 
 furnace was a large flat pan, indented by 
 about a dozen or upwards of round 
 hollows; while "aloft in witch-like state" 
 sat the presiding goddess of the pan, a 
 woman, with her feet resting on the edge 
 above the fire, wielding a ladle, a single 
 dip of which into a vessel with the raw 
 material, standing on a shelf behind her, 
 served exactly to fill the hollows. One of 
 her hands effected this with the rapidity 
 of a practised compositor distributing his 
 types, while with the other hand she 
 manoauvred a fork with inconceivable 
 
 celerity, first turning each cake in its 
 mould, in order to brown both sides, and 
 next dashing them out, one by one, into a 
 plate, upon which a spoonful of melted 
 butter was instantaneously flung, and " 
 was then handed down to the customers, 
 seated in a small parlour, the entrance to 
 which was simultaneously closed by a 
 curtain, leaving the party to eat in private. 
 The perspective of the double row of 
 these booths, with a figure seated on 
 high in front of each, and the flames from 
 beneath casting a lurid glare upon strongly 
 marked features, suggested to the fancy 
 so many IVIedeas, or midnight sor- 
 ceresses, performing their incantations ; 
 — the contrast of a dark sky above, 
 and the lights of the fair just showing the 
 outlines of the larger buildings in the 
 distance, formed a subject worthy of 
 Breughel or Rembrandt. We were sur- 
 prised the clothes of the women escaped 
 the flames which continually burst from 
 the furnaces. Besides the employment 
 just described, these females had to supply 
 fuel to the fires from magazines at their 
 side. It was impossible not to gaze at 
 the surprising agility with which the 
 process was conducted, or not to admire 
 the neatness and comfort with which the 
 little parlours were furnished. Though 
 temporarily put up, they had all the ap- 
 pearance of permanence, in the archi- 
 tecture of the wainscoting and drapery of 
 the walls, and in the substantial ornaments 
 in the shape of pictures, glass candlesticks, 
 and a profusion of indescribable nick- 
 nacks exhibited on what we would term 
 the mantel-shelves. 
 
 I must not omit that another pecu- 
 liarity was the large quantity of pickles 
 offered for sale, and the avidity with 
 which they were devoured. Upon the 
 counters of the shop^booths, cucumbers, 
 girkins, beans, 'beet-root, mangoes, to- 
 matas, &c., floated prettily in large glass 
 jars of vinegar with spices. Young and old 
 of both sexes went up without ceremony, 
 took a plate and fork, dipped for slices in 
 the jars, and ate them by large mouth- 
 fuls " at discretion," paying when 
 done, as familiarly as our dandies at a 
 pastry-cook's. We could scarcely believe 
 that they swallowed raw pickle without 
 accompaniment in such quantities, but 
 we tasted a few specimens, and were con- 
 vinced of the fact. We watched one 
 man in particular to see how long he 
 would continue eating — I should be 
 afraid to state the result : we could only 
 
9-1 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— AUGUST 17. 
 
 072 
 
 ejaculate Shakspeare's benevolent wish, 
 " May good digestion wait on appetite." 
 This practice, which prevails between 
 raeals, may partly account for the extraor- 
 dinary frequency of the word " Apotheek " 
 above the doors in every town in Holland. 
 These apothecaries' shops, too, are among 
 the best fitted up and largest of any, 
 giving strong evidence of a flourishing 
 trade. They have outside a large painted 
 staring head, with the mouth wide open, 
 as if gaping for a bolus — a sign denoting 
 relief to pickle-eaters in case of emergency. 
 
 Notwithstanding the dying away of the 
 bustle, and the gradual disappearance of 
 the lights, we did not leave the streets 
 until they were deserted, except by a few 
 people staggering homewards, or sleeping 
 about the booths and in corners, over- 
 come with fatigue, geneva, or pickle. If 
 the report of our fair informers at the 
 hotel was correct, that many did not go to 
 bed during the whole fourteen days of the 
 fair, it is not surprising that they fell 
 asleep " in harness." We had " heard 
 the chimes at midnight," and yet there 
 was a spacious public house nearourdomi- 
 cile, in which the company kept up their 
 frolics longer than we chose to stay : they 
 danced to a sing-song tune which all 
 joined in viva voce, as well as viva pede ; 
 and — as old Mr. Pepys says^ — "it was 
 pleasant to observe," how exactly the up- 
 lifted leg and measured hop coincided 
 with the attitudes represented in the 
 paintings of the old Dutch masters. 
 
 Next morning we had time to visit the 
 large venerable church, and to enjoy from 
 its lofty tnwer one of the most extensive 
 views in Europe, no fewer than fifty-one 
 towns and villages being visible from it. 
 We also examined the machinery which 
 set in motion the fine set of carrillons, or 
 small bells that play the chimes, the sweet 
 sounds of which so frequently enliven the 
 ear in maiiy of the continental towns, 
 particularly in the Netherlands. 
 
 Amongst the merchandize for sale in 
 the neighbourhood of the church, we were 
 attracted to a trinket stand by a pretty 
 variety of broaches, bracelets, and other 
 ornaments, some black, and some the 
 color of box-wood, and of so hard and 
 metallic an appearance that we could not 
 guess what they were made of. The 
 vender told us they were made by him- 
 self from the shell of a cocoa-nut. He 
 usually re.sidtd for a year at a time in 
 some capital, to introduce his manufacture 
 into the country, and was then establi.slio.d 
 
 at Amsterdam, from whence he had come 
 to attend the fair. He said he intended 
 shortly to devote a year to London. 
 
 There is a custom in Holland, which, 
 if introduced into this country, would be 
 very convenient to travellers. The book- 
 ing houses never refuse booking places 
 for a journey j should a greater number 
 of persons apply than the regular vehicle 
 can contain, additional means of convey- 
 ance are employed. Thus, at the office in 
 our hotel, forty-four places had been 
 taken for the route we were going, and 
 to carry such an assemblage two diti- 
 gences of the hugest size, and a smaller 
 voitvre, were produced. A portrait of 
 one of the former would make a pic- 
 turesque ornament for the Year Book. 
 You may judge of their weight, however, 
 by all the motley group that hang about an 
 inn being required to place their shoulders 
 to the wheels, and aid in launching the 
 horses out of the yard. We sat upon the 
 very top of one of these diligences, which 
 not being a usual place for passengers 
 surprised the Dutch ; and I verily believe, 
 had our route been through Cheapside, 
 we might have looked into the second- 
 floor windows. We could not attain to 
 our elevation, however, until the vehicle 
 was clear of the gateway of the inn. 
 During the day's journey we had nearly 
 suffered for choosing so exalted a situation. 
 When near Reinen, a passing waggoner 
 looked up, and endeavoured with great 
 energy to excite our attention ; we could 
 not understand him, but we soon perr 
 ceived that he was warning us of what 
 seemed a gateway v»ith a flat top across 
 the road, which we should not otherwise 
 have observed in time, nor would our 
 driver have troubled himself to recollect 
 where we were. We hastily scrambled 
 down -in front, and stooped our helids 
 below the level of the top of the coach, 
 part of the luggage on which grazed rather 
 roughly against the barrier! I cannot 
 conjecture for what purpose such an ob.> 
 noxious furca had been erected : it was 
 neither a gate, a toll-bar, an ornament, 
 nor an entrance to anything; but merely 
 plain brick walls, with a transverse 
 junction at top. This may be a hint to 
 travellers to look before them. 
 
 W,G. 
 
 March, 1831. 
 
973 
 
 THE YEA BOOK.— AUGUST 18, 19. 
 
 9Ti 
 
 ^U0U0t 18. 
 
 In August, 1799, died at Romford, in 
 Essex, Mr. Wilson, an eminent butcher 
 of that town, a great proficient in psalmody 
 and a very singular character. 
 
 Every Sunday, before the service began 
 at church, he used to amuse himself and the 
 congregation with singing psalms by him- 
 self, till the minister came into the desk. 
 He once thought to put a trick upon the 
 minister of Romford. He had been in- 
 vited to attend the minister's meeting and 
 pay his tithes, but did not appear. He 
 afterwards waited on the clergyman, who 
 was for immediately proceeding to busi- 
 ness, but Wilson insisted upon first enter- 
 taining him with a psalm; In this kind 
 of merriment he passed the whole evening, 
 drinking and singing psalms till he had 
 emptied three bottles of wine, and tired 
 the minister's patience. They parted with- 
 out finishing the business of tithes, and 
 next morning, instead of three guineas, 
 which the over night's guest had usually 
 paid, he was ordered to pay nine guineas 
 for his tithes, or they would be taken in 
 kind ; with this demand Wilson found 
 himself obliged to comply ; and this sum 
 continued his tithe composition ever after- 
 wards. He was, nevertheless, a firm 
 friend to the church. On the last fast- 
 day before his death, while all the con- 
 gregation were taking refreshment between 
 the morning and evening service, he never 
 quitted the church; but repeated the 
 Lord's prayer, and sung appropriate 
 psalms, from pew to pew, till he had per- 
 formed these his favorite devotions in 
 every pew in the church. 
 
 His singularity was publicly denoted by 
 the manner of eating, and the quantity, of 
 his meals. With a shoulder or leg of 
 lamb, perhaps, in his hand, and a quantity 
 of salt in the bend of the arm which 
 carried the joint, a large knife in the 
 other hand, and a small loaf in his pocket, 
 he would walk through the town, and not 
 return home till he had eaten the whole 
 of his provision. 
 
 He was enormously corpulent, and 
 though not as big as Bright, yet there was 
 not a larger man in Romford . In penman- 
 ship, as in psalmody, few men could excel 
 him; he daily practised it in his business. 
 Such curious butchers' bills were never 
 seen ; they were exquisitely well written, 
 but highly whimsical. The top line per- 
 haps, was German text, the second in 
 Roman print ; beef in one hand writing, 
 
 mutton in anolher, lamb in a different 
 hand ; all the different sorts of meat were 
 written in as many different hands, and in 
 ink of various colors. These and other 
 odd ways rendered him a remarkable 
 character, while his integrity and gentle- 
 ness of manners endeared him to his 
 friends, and caused him to be generally 
 respected 
 
 August 18. 
 
 Day breaks 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 h. 
 
 . . 2 
 
 . 4 
 
 m. 
 24 
 48 
 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 Everlasting Xeranthemum 
 
 . . 7 
 
 . 9 
 
 flowers 
 
 12 
 36 
 
 ^U0U0t 19 
 
 19th August, 1830, six young persons, 
 brothers and sisters, were drowned in the 
 River Ouse. Their fate is commemorated 
 in the church-yard of St. Lawrence, at 
 York, by a tablet, erected by public sub* 
 scription, with the following 
 
 Inscription: 
 
 " Raised by friendship, in memory of 
 four sons and two daughters of John and 
 Ann Rigg, of this city ; viz. : Ann Guthrie 
 Rigg, aged 19 years; Eliza Rigg, aged 
 17; Thos. Gorwood Rigg, aged 18; John 
 ^•gg> aged 16; James Smith Rigg, aged 
 7 ; and Charles Rigg, aged 6 ; who were 
 drowned by their boat being run down on 
 the river Ouse, near York, August 19, 
 1830:— 
 
 " Mark the brief story of a summer's day ! 
 At noon, youth^ health, and beauty launch'd 
 
 away ; 
 Ere eve. Death wreck'd the bark, and quench'd 
 
 their light; 
 Their parents' home was desolate at night * 
 Each pass'd alone that gulph no eye can see ; 
 They met, next moment, in eternity. 
 Friend, kinsman, stranger, dost thou ask me 
 
 where ? 
 Seek God's right hand, and hope to find them 
 
 there." 
 
 h. m. 
 Attgust 19. Day breaks . . 2 27 
 Sun rises ... 4 50 
 — sets . . 7 10 
 
 Twilight ends . . 9 33 
 Golden rod, in full flower. 
 Limes and elms begin to shed then 
 leaves. 
 
9T6 
 
 THE YEAR DOOK.-AUOrST 19 
 
 976 
 
 ELSTOW CHURCH. 
 
 [For the Year Book.J 
 
 The village of Elstow is situate about a 
 mile and a half from Bedford, and is 
 noted as the site of an abbey of Bene- 
 dictine nuns. It is called ' Elnestov/ in 
 Domesday-book, and, at the date of that 
 survey, was held of Judith, countess of 
 Huntingdon, by the monks of St. Mary. 
 The population in 1821 was 548. 
 
 The dim, mysterious, ruddy ligh 
 That ushers in an autumn niglit. 
 Hang o'er the fceking fields that lay 
 Before me, on my lonely way. 
 In melancholy stillness spread. 
 As if to shroud those dreamless dead. 
 Over wJiose long, unhroken sleep 
 No friends nor kindred come to weep. 
 Though through its tears the sun-set sky 
 liooks kindly, down \vith glimmering eye. 
 And, as its tender tints grow dim, 
 The red-breast trills their parting hymn. 
 
 But now that loved and lonesome thing 
 Brought not its tuneful offering •, 
 Though breaking on the drowsy car, 
 Distinct, yet distant^ faict^ but clc&r^ 
 
 jike the far trumpet's voice of flame 
 At times tbe coek's shrill clarion camn, 
 Poured blithely forth, as full and free 
 As if his misty eye could see. 
 In that diseased and cheerless light, ' 
 The waning majesty of night ; 
 While, from some nearer knoll, the sound 
 Of lowing kine, breathed gently round, 
 Joined with the homeless wether's bell, 
 Drowned not the lisping brooklets' swell. 
 No " noise that hinders thought" wasthei'c. 
 But through the chill substantial air. 
 From the still, shadowy hamlet, broke 
 The clanging hammer's sturdy stroke. 
 And click of hnrrying hoofs that tiodc 
 With measured step the twilight road^ 
 By ancient Elstow's hallowed fane — * 
 Now faintly heard, now loud again ; 
 But siill, by distance so subdued. 
 They startled not its solitude, 
 
 • The church, which is a-U that remains of 
 the conventual building, is dedicated to tho 
 Holy Trinity, St. Mary, and St, Helena, tho 
 mother of Constantine the Great. It is a 
 stately structure, and contains some curious- 
 sepulchreEl brasses^ and other mouuiuonts of 
 interest. 
 
or? 
 
 THF. YEAJl BOOK.— AUGUST 20. 
 
 978 
 
 But served as points to me^e and sound 
 The jjcep sepulchral calm around. 
 
 The sluggard wind is waking now, 
 Round that tall poplar*s topmost bough> 
 And now, in pulses faint and brief. 
 Toys with ' the sere and yellow leaf,' 
 Till, bolder grown, it gathers power. 
 And whirls aslant a golden shower. 
 Trundling its merry charge about 
 ^ike mummers at some lordly rout, 
 A reckless, restless, romping clan,— 
 Itself the piper to the van. 
 
 Look ! where, upon the western sky. 
 Lifting its solemn front on high. 
 Frowns the dark battlemented tow'r. 
 And gloomy forms of grandeur low'r — * 
 There, as I sHape my course, and tread 
 * Above the venerable dead,' 
 What vestiges of days departed 
 Up from the teeming past have started ! 
 Visions of worthies famed in story. 
 And fadeless thoughts of faded glory ! 
 Objects in which my youth delighted. 
 Like autumn-gleanings, sear'd and blighted. 
 Or sun-shoots from an April sky ! 
 — Love, hope, fruition, all gone by. — 
 
 — * Visions of worthies !* — Aye> let Fame 
 Inscribe m water Bunyan'sf name. 
 And merge in darkness, if she will, 
 
 " IBrU liuntingtiott, i^is ancient Vill f 
 
 The grateful " Pilgrim" still shall go 
 To seek his native ' Helenstowe,' 
 And, though the place be none so fair — 
 Dream of " the land of Bculah" there. — 
 
 ' Undying thoughts of dying things !' — 
 The bright, but passing, pomp of kings, 
 Earth's rottenness, and crafty ruth. 
 Seen in the blaze of sober truth. — 
 - — The hopeless hope, by hmmoi light, 
 To overmatch Essentia^ Right, 
 And bind unbending Justice down 
 Id barter for a fadeless crown. — 
 -*The convent's gloom — the masses said— 
 And requiems chaunted for the dead. 
 In solemn voices, loud and clear, 
 Uy old St. Mary's brethren there 
 
 * The tower is detached from the church, 
 as shown in the preceding cut. The 
 '* gloomy forms of grandeur" comprise a ruined 
 mansion adjoining, formerly tenanted by the 
 Hillertdon family, whose arms are carved on 
 (he porch, still remaining. An avenue of 
 trees, occupied by a considerable colony of 
 rooks, and shadowing a gentle stream, stands 
 beside it, forming a very striking landscape. 
 
 t John Bunyan, author of the *' Pilgrim's 
 Progress," was bom at Elstow, of mean pa- 
 rentage, in 1628. His native house has un- 
 dergone such extensive repairs and alterations, 
 that its original features are tost, or a view of 
 it would have probably illustrated this article. 
 
 The stealthy rites of those who gave 
 
 Its latest abbess to the grave. 
 
 And on her tomb engraved the prayer 
 
 They ventured not to proffer there. — 
 
 * Scenes of my youth V — ^I thought of you. 
 
 Your dreams, all sunshine, — all untrue — 
 
 — Your sorrows, fleet indeed, but keen. 
 
 Your search for glory, never seen ! 
 
 — False, — for I knew not then, nor claimed 
 
 " The hope that maketh not ashamed j" 
 
 — Keen — for I gave myself no care 
 
 To buckle on the shield "^ All-prayer •" 
 
 And never seen, because I sought. 
 
 Neither when, where, nor how, I ought. 
 
 There is in the south aisle of the church 
 a memorial for Elizabeth Herwy, whom Mr. 
 Lysons calls the last abbess of Elstow, and he 
 endeavours to account for the circumstance of 
 the dates in the inscription being left blank, 
 by supposing that she outlived the dissolu- 
 tion. This, however, is not the fact, as she 
 had three or more successors. The *" prayer' 
 referred to, is that, so usual on sepulchral 
 monuments, previous to the reformation. 
 
 augu0t 20. 
 
 20th August, 1734, died at Newcastle- 
 house, Clerkenwell (which house stood 
 in the close, within memory) the duchess 
 of Montagu. She was heiress of Henry, 
 duke of Newcastle, and her hand was soli- 
 cited by Ralph, duke of Montagu. 
 To an honorable suitor there were two 
 impassable obstacles to the union ; the 
 lady was insane — and she determined to 
 marry no one but a monarch. For the 
 sake of her property the duke assumed the 
 character of Emperor of China, made 
 love to a maniac, and she married (or 
 rather was married to) him. Afterwards 
 she suffered no one to approach her but 
 as Empress, and was always served upon 
 the knee. She survived the duke twenty- 
 six years. He was the builder of Mon- 
 tagu-house, now the British Museum. * 
 
 20th August, 1783, died in Moorfields, 
 aged sixty-eight, Mr. Frank Vandermyn, 
 an eminent portrait painter. He was so 
 much attached to a pipe and porter, that 
 he would not paint the portrait of even 
 the first character in the kingdom, unless 
 he was indulged with his pipe at the time, 
 and on that account he lost the painting 
 of many. His likenesses were good, and 
 his fancy heads of Turks, Jew-Rabbies, 
 and Circassians, were much admired, f 
 
 • Noble. 
 t Gent's Magaziac. 
 
<>T9 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 21, 22. 
 
 980 
 
 Augiist 20. Day breaks 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 Roadside fleabane flowers. 
 
 Early peaches and nectarines abundant. 
 
 Windsor pears fully ripe. 
 
 h. m. 
 2 30 
 4 51 
 7 9 
 9 30 
 
 ^M0lt9t 21. 
 
 21st August, 1703, died Thomas Tryon, 
 the amiable author of "The way to 
 health> long life, and happiness, or a dis- 
 course on temperance," a work which 
 still retains some celebrity, and of several 
 other pieces on domestic economy and 
 rural affairs. He was the son of a tiler 
 and plasterer at Bibury, in Gloucester- 
 shire, and became a shepherd. At thir- 
 teen years old he learned to read, and at 
 fourteen gave one of several sheep he had 
 obtained to be taught the art of writing. 
 Afterwards, selling his stock for £3, he 
 went to London, and apprenticed himself 
 to a hat maker at Bridewell Dock, where 
 he spent the day in learning his trade; 
 and most of the night in reading. He 
 commenced business, and acquired a 
 considerable fortune. He rejected the use 
 of animal food, and ihought " temper- 
 ance, cleanliness, and innocency," would 
 purify him for celestial enjoyments. 
 He was a man of kind affections, and 
 when he died, at the age of 69, he is pre- 
 sumed to have anticipated a much longer 
 life in the world, through his tenderness 
 to beasts, birds, fishes, insects, and rep- 
 tiles. * 
 
 I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered 
 virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that 
 never sallies out and sees her adversary, 
 but slinks out of the race where that im- 
 mortal garland is to be run for, not with- 
 out dust and heat. — Milton. 
 
 
 
 h. 
 
 m. 
 
 A ugust 21. Day breaks 
 
 . 
 
 2 
 
 33 
 
 Sun rises . 
 
 . 
 
 4 
 
 53 
 
 — sets . 
 
 , , 
 
 7 
 
 7 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 
 9 
 
 27 
 
 Codlings ready to pick. 
 
 
 
 
 Early apples ripe. 
 
 
 
 
 Red gurnet, red mullet, 
 
 and 
 
 red 
 
 sur- 
 
 mullet, in the markets. 
 
 
 
 
 ^U0U$t 22. 
 
 • Noble 
 
 This is the anniversary of Bo'sworth 
 Field, in which battle Richard III. was 
 killed. Modern w liters differ with older 
 authors concerning his character. Wal- 
 pole's " Historic Doubts" first raised 
 suspicion of the veracity of the historians, 
 who represent Richard to have been a 
 monster in mind as well as body. TJie 
 story of the murder and burial of the infant 
 princes in the tower is much discredited. 
 
 There is an interesting account ofRichard 
 Plantagenet (a natural son of Richard III.) 
 in the following letter from Dr. Thomas 
 Brett to Dr. William Warren, President 
 of Trinity Hall. 
 
 [Copy.] 
 Dear Will, 
 * * Now for the story of Richard 
 Plantagenet. In the year 1720 (I have 
 forgot the particular day, only remember 
 it was about Michaelmas) I waited ^n the 
 late lord Heneage, earl of Winchelsea,.at 
 Eastwell house, and found him sitting 
 with the register of the parish of East- 
 well lying open before him. He told 
 me that he had been looking there to see 
 who of his own family were mentioned in 
 it. But, says he, I Viave a curiosity here 
 to show you : and then showed me, and 
 I immediately transcribed it into my 
 almanac — " Richard Plantagenet was 
 buryed the 22d daye of December, anno 
 ut supra. Ex Registro de Eastwell, sub 
 anno 1550." This is all the register men- 
 tions of him ; so that we cannot say 
 whether he was buried in the church oi 
 church-yard ; nor is there now any other 
 memorial of him except the tradition in 
 the family, and some little marks where 
 his house stood. The story my lord told 
 me was this : — 
 
 When Sir Thomas Moyle built that 
 house (Eastwell-place)- he observed hig 
 chief bricklayer, whenever he left off ■ 
 work, retired with a book. Sir Thomas 
 had curiosity to know, what book the man 
 read ; but was some time before he could 
 discover it, he still putting the book up 
 if any one came toward him. However, 
 at last, Sir Thomas surprised him, and 
 snatched the book from him, and looking 
 into it found it to be Latin. Hereupon, 
 he examined him, and, finding he pretty 
 well understood that language, he in- 
 quired how he came by his learning : 
 hereupon the man told him, as he had 
 been -a good master to h'm, he would 
 
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 22. 
 
 983 
 
 venture to trust him with a secret he had 
 never befure revealed to any one. He 
 then informed him, that he was boarded 
 with a Latin school-master, without know- 
 ing who his parents were, till he was 
 - fifteen or sixteen years old : only a gentle- 
 man (who took occasion to acquaint him 
 he was no relation to hini) came once a 
 quarter, and paid for his board, and took 
 care to see thathe wanted nothing. And, 
 one day, this gentleman took him, and 
 carried him to a fine great house, where 
 he passed through several stately rooms, in 
 one of which he left him, bidding him 
 stay there. Then a man, finely drest, with a 
 star and garter, came to him, asked him 
 some questions, talked kindly to him, and 
 gave him some money. Then the foremen- 
 tioned gentleman returned, and conducted 
 him back to his school. 
 
 Some time after, the same gentleman 
 came to him again, with a horse and pro- 
 per accoutrements, and told him he must 
 take a journey with him into the country. 
 They went into Leicestershire, and came 
 to Bosworth field ; and he was carried to 
 Richard III.'s tent. The king embraced 
 him, and told him be was his son. " But, 
 child," says he, "to-morrow I must fight 
 for my crown ; and, assure yourself, if 1 
 lose that, I will lose my life too ; liut I 
 hope to preserve both. Do you stand in 
 such a place (directing him to a particular 
 place), where you may see the battle, out 
 of danger. And when I have gained the 
 victory, come to me ; I will then own 
 you to be mine, and take care of you. 
 But, if I should be so unfortunate as 
 to lose the battle, then shift as well as 
 you can, and take care to let nobody know 
 that I am your father ; for no mercy will 
 be showed to any one so nearly related to 
 me.'' Then the king gave him a purse 
 of gold and dismissed him. 
 
 He followed the king's directions. And, 
 when he saw the battle was lost, and the 
 king killed, he hasted to London, sold 
 his horse and fine clothes, and the better 
 to conceal himself from all suspicion of 
 being son to a king, and that he might 
 have means to live by his honest labor, 
 he put himself apprentice to a bricklayer. 
 But, having a competent skill in the Latin 
 tongue, he was unwilling to lose it ; and 
 having an inclination also to reading, and 
 no delight in the conversation of those he 
 was obliged to work with, he generally 
 spent all the time he had to spare in read- 
 ing by himself. 
 
 Sir Thomas said, " You are now old. 
 
 and almost past your labor ; I will giro 
 you the running of my kitchen as long 
 as you live." He answered, " Sir, you 
 have a numerous family ; I have been 
 used to live retired ; give me leave td 
 build a house of one room for myself, in 
 such a field, and there, with your good 
 leave, I will live and die." Sir Thomas 
 granted his . request ; he built his house, 
 and there continued to his death. 
 
 I suppose (though my lord did not 
 mention it) that he went to eat in the 
 family, and then retired to his hut. My 
 lord said that there was no park at that 
 time ; but, when the park was made, that 
 house was taken into it, and continued 
 standing till his (my lord's) father pulled 
 it down. " But," said my lord, " I would 
 as soon have pulled down this house :" 
 meaning Eastwell-place. 
 
 I have been computing the age of this 
 Richard Flantagenet when he died, and 
 find it to be about eighty-one. For 
 Richard IIL was killed August 23 [22], 
 1485 (which subtracted from 1550, there 
 remains sixty-five), to which add sixteen 
 (for the age of Richard Flantagenet at 
 that time), and it makes eighty-one. But, 
 though he lived to that age, he could 
 scarcely enjoy his retirement in his little 
 house above two or three years, or a little 
 more. For I find by Philpot that sir 
 Thomas Moyle did not purchase the 
 estate of Eastwell till about the year 
 1543 or 4. We may therefore reason- 
 ably suppose that, upon his building a 
 new house on his purchase, he could not 
 come "to live in it till 1546, but that his 
 workmen were continued to build the 
 walls about his gardens, and other conve- 
 niences off from the house. And, till he 
 came to live in the house, he could not 
 well have an opportunity of observing 
 how Richard Flantagenet retired with his 
 book. So that it was probably towards 
 the latter end of the year 1546, when 
 Richard and sir Thomas had the foremen- 
 tioned dialogue together. Consequently, 
 Richard could not build his house, and 
 have it dry enough for him to live in, till 
 the year 1547. So thathe must be seventy- 
 seven or seventy-eight years of age before 
 he had his writ of ease. 
 
 I am 
 dear brother Will, 
 your humble servant, 
 Tho. Brett. 
 Spring Grove, Sept. 1, 1733. 
 
983 
 
 I'HE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 2), 24. 
 
 964 
 
 Dr. Samuel Pegge, in remarking upon the 
 preceding letter, and upon objections that 
 were urged to the authenticity of its ac- 
 count, says, " Dr. Thomas Brett, of Spring- 
 grove, near Eastwell, was the person that 
 penned the story, or that first put down 
 the traditionary account in writing, with 
 a view of obliging- his countryman, Dr. 
 William Warren, who was then fellow of 
 Trinity Hall, Cambridge, and there resi- 
 dent. Dr. Brett, and Dr. Warren, both 
 of whom I well know, were very serious 
 men, and incapable of forming a design 
 of imposing upon any body, in a point 
 of history especially. When I lived in 
 the neighbourhood of Eastwell, which I 
 did many years, the tradition very cur- 
 rently ran as the doctor has delivered it; 
 but if B. T. will be content with a literal 
 extract from the old register of Eastwell, 
 concerning the person in question, I am 
 ready to oblige hinj in that, by assuring 
 him that I copied verbatim, above thirty 
 years ago, the following entry from 
 thence : — ' Eichard Flantagenet was 
 buryed the 22nd daye of December, 
 anno ut supra,' i. e. 1550. [4 Edw. VI.] 
 All I shall further say, is, and this I think 
 may give some satisfaction, that Richard 
 III. certainly had a bastard son of the 
 name of Richard, see Mr. Drake's JSio- 
 racum, p. 117, where you will find that 
 he was knighted, when a youth, by his 
 father, at York." 
 
 Again — ^The Rev. P. Parsons, rec- 
 tor of Eastwell, further confirms the 
 genuineness of the extract from the regis- 
 ter, by stating, " The words of the register 
 of Eastwell are exactly as quoted by Dr. 
 Brett. — It is also remarkable that in the 
 same register, whenever any of noble 
 family was buried, this mark tj is pre- 
 fixed to the name ; and the same mark is 
 put to that of Richard Plantagenet."* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 August 22. Day breaks . . 2 37 
 Sun rises ... 4 55 
 — sets ... 7 5 
 Twilight ends . . 9 23 
 
 Amellus flowers. 
 
 Green gage, and Orleans' plums ripe 
 to perfection. 
 
 August 23. 
 
 To BE Considered. 
 
 _ The light which we have gained was 
 given us not to be ever staring on, but by 
 it to discern onward things, more remote 
 from our knowledge. — Milton. 
 
 • Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
 
 h. mw. 
 
 ugust 23. Day breaks . 
 
 . 2 4a 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 4 ar 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 7 3 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 9 20 
 
 Sea starwort in full flower. 
 
 
 ^U0U0t 24. 
 
 St. Bartholomew's Dat. 
 
 There is a curious half-sheet octavo 
 tract, printed in 1710, entitled " The 
 Wonders of England, containing Dogget 
 and Penkethman's Dialogue with Old 
 Nick, on the suppression of Bartholomew 
 Fair in Smithfield." The title enumerates 
 sevral other strange and wonderful mat- 
 ters, as being contained in the book, but, 
 like the showman's painted cloths in the 
 fair, pictures monsters not visible within. 
 There is not a line in the tract respecting 
 the suppression of the fair. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 On the above day the following custom 
 prevailed some time ago at the village of 
 DorringtoD, in the county of Lincoln. 
 In the morning a number of maidens, 
 clad in their best attire, went in proces- 
 sion to a small chapel, then standing in 
 the parish, and strewed its floor with 
 rushes, from whence they proceeded to a 
 piece of land, called the " Play Garths," 
 where they were joined by most of the 
 inhabitants of the place, who passed the 
 remainder of the day' in rural sports,-:- 
 such as foot-ball, wrestling, and other 
 athletic exercises, with dancing, &c". The 
 pastimes, however, are not confined to 
 St. Bartholomew's-day, but occur at other 
 times in the year ; as the " Garths" was 
 left by an inhabitant for the young men and 
 women of the village to play in. Rush- 
 bearing is still kept up in some parts of 
 Yorkshire by decorating a cart-load of 
 rushes with flowers, &c., and going in 
 procession therewith round the whole of 
 the place. 
 
 Sleafordensis. 
 
 Festivals of St. John and St. Bartho- 
 lomew — Early method of Educa- 
 tion. 
 
 Morley, near Leeds, Yoiluhiie, 
 May 8, 1831. 
 Mr. Hone, 
 
 It may not be unacceptable to you to 
 communicate something relating to the 
 anniversaries of St. John's and St. Bar- 
 tholomew's, respectively, which has been 
 
9G5 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 24. 
 
 986 
 
 Ifft incomplete or untouched by your 
 fbimer publications. Taking them in 
 order of time, I would first advert to Mid- 
 summer^day, or the Nativity of St. John 
 the Baptist. 
 
 So much of what is most curious re- 
 specting this festival has been related in 
 vol. i., p. 846, &c., of your Every-Day 
 Book, Uiat little remains to be added. 
 It was a high day with the Catholics of 
 the middle ages, and on it their guilds 
 appeared with unusual splendor. The 
 nature of these institutions is well illus- 
 trated by Clatkson in his valuable His- 
 tory of Richmond (in Yorkshire), p. 225; 
 They were composed, he says, of persons 
 of both sexes, who were not bound by 
 their statutes to celibacy. They formed 
 chantries, &c., used to make solemn pro- 
 cessions through the town on St. John's 
 day, with the portable shrine of St. John 
 and torches lighted, bearing the host in a 
 tabernacle, with banners and colors flying; 
 and masses, dirges, &c., were said for 
 the prosperity of the brethren and sisters 
 living, and for their souls after their de- 
 parture hence. They had also, at the 
 same time, charitable views, as giving 
 relief to poor brethren and sisters, and 
 finding beds and accommodations for 
 distressed strangers, and occasionally 
 lepers. 
 
 I shall not trouble you with an account 
 of the '* Watch setting " on this night, so 
 frequently mentioned by old John Stowe* 
 under the Tudor reigns, because you have 
 largely adverted to the subject before. 
 Suffice it to observe, that the custom 
 originated not in superstition (as might 
 be imagined), but from necessity; for 
 there appears to have been one or more 
 nights in early times (of vvhich St. John's 
 was one), when people, assembled to- 
 gether to commit depredations, or do 
 " wanton mischief," and we have still an 
 anniversary of this kind in Yorkshire on 
 the night of April 30th. To prevent these 
 injuries and depredations, " watch and 
 ward" was kept in London, on St. John's 
 eve, with great power and splendor till the 
 year 1539, when it was discontinued from 
 the jealousy of the reigning despot, 
 though the practice was afterwards re- 
 vived. 
 
 But my chief reason for noticing St, 
 John's eve is on account of the fires, for- 
 merly, and still, said to be lighted up on 
 
 • Annals, p, 817, 1113, 1115, 1119. 
 
 that night; and which, doubtless, may be 
 deduced from the same origin a'S our 
 Christmas fires, and the burning of the 
 "yuleclog." To me, at least, the following 
 passage in Mr. Fosbroke's valuable £n- 
 cyclopsedia is quite satisfactory : — 
 
 " The heathens," says he, " were much 
 delighted with the festivals of their gods, 
 and unwilling to part with those delights; 
 and therefore Gregory (Thaumaturgus), 
 who died in 265, and was bishop of Neocs- 
 sarea, to facilitate their conversion, in- 
 stituted annual festivals. Hence the fes- 
 tivities of Christmas were substituted for 
 the Bacchanalia and Saturnalia — the May 
 games for the Floralia — and the keeping 
 of festivals to the Virgin Mary, John the 
 Baptist, and divers apostles, in the room 
 of the solemnities at the entrance of the 
 sun into the signs of the zodiac, according 
 to the old Julian Calendar." 
 
 It is rather remarkable that these fires 
 and illuminations before referred to should 
 have been made on the anniversary of the 
 nativity of John the Baptist, if they had 
 no reference to the character of him as 
 given by Jesus Christ. " He was a burn- 
 ing and a shining light (says the Saviour), 
 and ye were willing for a season to rejoice 
 in his light,"^ Unquestionably there is 
 a singular coincidence here, if the customs 
 and ceremonies observed upon it had no 
 relation to the festival. 
 
 I now turn to St. Bartholomew's Day, 
 for the purpose of noticing a custom an- 
 nually observed thereon, in the " olden 
 times," though little noticed in antiquarian 
 works, and not at all in yours.f I mean the 
 meeting of scholars, from difierent schools, 
 for the purpose of disputation, and to try 
 their proficiency in learning. Stowe makes 
 mention of this practice in his " Survey," 
 and also Lilly, the astrologer, in his life. 
 In the note also prefixed to the life of 
 Sir Thomas More it is said, that " on the 
 eve of St. Bartholomew the scholars used 
 to repair to the church yarid of the priory, 
 in Smithfield, for trial of proficiency in 
 learning and disputation." 
 
 This custom was not quite extinct in 
 Yorkshire, even in that early part of the 
 last century ; but what surprises me the 
 most is the place where these disputations 
 or examinations were carried on. Upon 
 authority which I cannot doubt, that place 
 was Lee Fair,where,early in September, an 
 
 * John's Gospel, v. 35. 
 * [Mr. Scatrherd has overlooked the no ce 
 in the Every-Day Book, i. 119.] 
 
987 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 24 
 
 988 
 
 annual wake and mart is held for cattle 
 and goods of various kinds. The place 
 is an insignificant village about two miles 
 hence, but near Woodkirk, where, an- 
 ciently, was a cell of black canons under 
 Nostel Priory. To this fair the scholars 
 of Leeds, Wakefield, and perhaps other 
 places, were brought according to tra- 
 dition; and curious indeed must have 
 been their disputations, when Aristotle's 
 Metaphysics, TuUie's Rhetoric, the Syn- 
 tax of the Grammar Schools, and Logic 
 o. the Priests, vrere the chief if not the 
 sole studies of youth, apart from martial 
 or rural exercises. As much real know- 
 ledge, methinks, might be gathered from 
 the clack of a number of Hindoos, Las- 
 cars, or Guinea fowls. 
 
 Connected with this subject is the state 
 of learning and course of education in 
 the middle and later ages. Having for some 
 time made minutes whenever I have 
 lighted upon very curious particulars re- 
 lating thereto, and being desiroi^s to see 
 them embodied, I shall be glad if you 
 think, with me, that they will be accep- 
 table to your best informed readers: It 
 shall now be my endeavour to arrange 
 them in something like chronological 
 order, I will begin with a specimen of the 
 poetry of the 16th century (said to be 
 from an unpublished version of Hardyng's 
 Chronicle), as it displays the course of 
 education then pursued in a most amus- 
 ing manner:— 
 
 "And 03 Lords Sombeae settatfoure year age 
 To scole at learn the doctrine of Leitrure ; 
 And, after six, to have them in language. 
 And sit at meat semely in all nurure ; 
 At ten ftnd twelve to revel is their cure. 
 To dant'e and sing and speak of gentleness ; 
 At fourteen year they shall to field, I sure, 
 ' At hunt the deei and catch an hardiness, 
 
 " For Deer to bunt, and slay, and see them 
 
 bleed. 
 An hardiment giveth to his courage, * 
 And also in his wit he taketh heed. 
 Imagining to take them at avantage ; 
 At sixteen year to werray and to wage. 
 To just and ride, and castles to assail. 
 To skirmish als,'and make siker Scurage, 
 And set his Watch, for peril noctwrnale. 
 " And, every day, his Armour to assay 
 In feat of arras with some of his many; 
 
 * This, if my memory serves me, was Mr. 
 Wyndham's arguiiient for the perpctuatfori, it 
 not encouragement, of brutal sports. How 
 different from the views and feelings of that 
 great man. Lord Erskine ! . 
 
 His might to prove, and what that he do may, 
 
 If that he were in such a jeopardy 
 
 Of Warre by falle, that by nccessitie 
 
 He might algates with weapons him defend } ^ 
 
 Thus should he learn in his priority 
 
 His weapons all in armcs to dispend.*' 
 
 The inventory of Sir John Fastolf's effects 
 in vol. 20, of the Archseologia, p. 237 ; 
 the Paston Letters, vol. 1, p. 173, and 
 vol. 4, p. 79, disclose very curious par- 
 ticulars in perfect accordance with the 
 foregoing description : — 
 
 " One thing (says a commentator) very 
 remarkable, though this inventory (i. e. 
 Fastolfs) was before the invention of 
 printing, is the absence of Boohs. Some 
 MSS. might at least have been expected 
 in a mansion like Fastolf's, in addition 
 to two missals, a psalter, and a martyr- 
 ology. His learned secretary, William of 
 Worcester, does not seem to have directed 
 his patron's taste to the acquirement of 
 a library ; though, in his own person, he 
 engaged in the pursuit with all the ardor 
 of a modern biblioinaniac." In accord- 
 ance with the last extract is this passage 
 in Camden's remains, p. 273 : — 
 
 " A nobleman of this time (i. e. Henry 
 the Vlllth's reign), in contempt of learn- 
 ing, said, that it- was for Noble men's 
 sonnes enough to winde their Home and 
 carry their Hawke faire, and to leave study 
 and learning to the children of meane 
 men." 
 
 Dr. Whitaker, in his history of Whalley, 
 tells us that he could not discover more 
 than three books to have been purchased 
 by the canons of Bolton, in 40 years. 
 
 In the inventory of the effects of T. 
 Keeble, Esq., taken in 1501, there js only 
 one book. " A Bake in French wrote on 
 parchment — £l." See Nichols's Leicester- 
 shire, vol. 3, p. 272. 
 
 As a specimen of the kind of books in 
 the possession of scholars, even so late as 
 1 616, take the following, presented by one 
 of the Fellows of St. John's College, 
 Oxford, of the name of Smith — Hierom's 
 works in three vols. ; his Hebrew Con- 
 cordance ; Alphonsus de Castro ; Cyprian 
 and Augustine's works, being five vols. 
 See Gutch's Oxfori p. 551. 
 
 In a MS. account of the expenses of 
 Mr. Henry and Wm. Cavendish (sons of 
 Sir Wm. Cavendish, of Chatsworth, knt.) 
 at Eton school, 21st Oct., 1560, are the 
 following :- 
 
 Item. For a Kyngeg grammar. 
 
 Item. Marcus Tullius office. 
 
 /I'; 
 
989 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 24. 
 
 990 
 
 Item. Fabnlaj ^sopi. 
 Item. For quartevidge in pens and Vnke 
 Brom and byrche. — ^vid. 
 
 Item. Paid for TuUius Atticum, iiid. 
 From the life of Sir Thos. More, it 
 appears that his daughters, on their jour- 
 neys, exercised themselves in the making 
 of declamations, or composition of verses, 
 or in logic exercises ; for which he prSises 
 the eloquence of his beloved "wenches." 
 To correct the reading of a passage in 
 such an author as St. Cyprian, he deemed 
 a proof of great learning and talent, p. 
 154. His daughter, Mary, he recom- 
 mends to spend the remainder of her 
 life in studying physic, and the holy scrip- 
 lures. 
 
 I will now, Mr. Hone, present your 
 readers with a passage in the life of Sir 
 Thomas More, from which they may judge 
 how much of science, or in other words 
 of real, sterling, precious knowledge, was 
 stored in the mind of one of the greatest, 
 wisest, and best men of the 1 6th century. 
 In one of the letters of Sir Thos. More 
 to his children, he writes respecting their 
 tutor thus — " for I think Mr. Nicolas is 
 with you, and that you have learned of 
 him much astronomy, so that I hear you 
 have proceeded so far in the science that 
 you now know, not only the pole star or 
 dog, and such like of the common con- 
 stellations ; but also (which argueth an 
 absolute and cunning astronomer) in the 
 chief planets themselves, you are able to 
 discern the sun from the moon." See p. 146. 
 When Queen Elizabeth honored Sand- 
 wich with her presence in 1573, "She 
 entered into the Scale house, wheare she 
 was very merry, and did eafe of dyverse 
 dishes, without any assaye, and caused 
 eerten to be reserved for her and carried 
 to her lodgings. Against the Scole house, 
 uppon the new turfed wall, and uppon a 
 scafold made iippon the wall of the Scole- 
 house yarde where dyverse children, 
 Englishe and Dutche, Xo the number of 
 Cth, or vi. score, all ^nning of fine bag 
 yame, a thing well liked both of her Ma- 
 jestic and of the Nobilitie and Ladies." 
 See Antiquarian Repertory, vol. iv. p. 65. 
 "Old Jackquer, now living, has often 
 seen from his house the nuns of St. 
 Mary's (Kingston in Wilts) coming forth 
 into the Nymph Hay, with rocks and 
 wheels to spin.* Sometimes to the num- 
 
 * To do justice, however, to our Catholic 
 ancestors, I must add that even this was better 
 than encouraging them in idleness and pride. 
 
 her of seventy, all of whom were not 
 nuns, but young girls sent there for 
 education." MS. of Aubrey, Ibid p. 44, 
 vol. iv. 
 
 I next offer to your readers a copy of 
 a letter to the tutor of Prince Henry, son 
 of James the 1st, showing how an En- 
 glish tutor at Paris educated his pupils in 
 1610: extracted from Mr. Ellis's letters, 
 second series, vol. iii. p. 226. 
 
 " Our dayes are thus divided — In the 
 forenoon Mr. Puckering spends two hours 
 on horseback, Twoother hours he spends 
 in French — one in reading^the other in 
 rendering to his teacher some part of a 
 Latin author by word of mouth — a fifth 
 hour he is employed in learning to hondteh is 
 weapon, which entertains him till twelve 
 of the clock, when the bell warns him to 
 dinner, where the company continues to- 
 gether till two o'clock, either passing the 
 time in discourse or in some recreation 
 pertaining to amies. Then they are 
 warned by the bell to dauncing, which 
 holds him till three, when he retires to his 
 chamber, and there employs with me 
 two other hours in reading over some 
 Latin author ; which done, he translates 
 some little part of it into French, leaving 
 his faults to be corrected the morrow fol- 
 lowing by hiii teacher. After supper we 
 take a brief survey of all." 
 
 " Such was the state of learning," says 
 Aubrey, " from the time of Erasmus down 
 to 1 660, learning was dowmoright pedantry. 
 The conversation and habits of those 
 times were as starch't as their bands and 
 and square beards, and gravity was taken 
 for wisdom. The doctors were old boys. 
 Quibbles passed for wit even in sermons. 
 The gentry and citizens had little learning 
 of any kind, and their way of breeding 
 up their children was suitable to the rest. 
 They were as severe to their children as 
 schoolmasters. The child loathed the sight 
 of his parents, Gentlemen of thirty OV' 
 forty years of age were to stand like 
 mutes and fools bareheaded before their' 
 parents, and their -daughters (grown' 
 women) were to stand at the cupboard 
 side during the whole time of their provid 
 mother's visit, unless (as the fashion was) 
 leave was desired that a cushion should 
 be given them to kneel on. The hoys (I 
 mean the young fellows) had their fore- 
 heads turned up and stiffened with spittle. 
 They were to stand mannerly forsooth, one 
 Jiand at their band string, the other behind 
 the hreech. The gentlewomen "had pro- 
 digious fans; with these the daughters were 
 
991 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. -AUGUST 24. 
 
 d<)3 
 
 often slashed and correctecl. Bif Edward 
 Coke rode the circuit with sucn a fan, and 
 the Earl of Manchester used such a one. 
 At Oxford, the rod was often used by the 
 tutors and deans; and Dr. Potter, of 
 Trinity Hall, I know right we'.l whipped 
 his pupil with a sword by his side, when 
 he came to take leave of him to go to the 
 Inns Of Court." See Antiquarian Reper- 
 tory, vol. iii. p. 47. 
 
 It is manifest to me, Mr. Hone (what- 
 ever it may be to other people), that the 
 stern, arbitrary, and unfeeling conduct of 
 pwents to children, which continued to 
 the latter part of the last century, took its 
 tone from the despotic and cruel nature 
 of our governments, down to the times of 
 the commonwealth of England. I have 
 alluded to this elsewhere, and Hentzner's 
 account of the court of Elizabeth abun- 
 dantly confirms me ; but my thoughts 
 are chiefly turned to the kind of know- 
 ledge which was acquired at grammar- 
 schools in the "good old times !" Let us 
 look a little into this matter. — 
 
 So late as 1595, it appears that persons 
 were taught to reckon with counters. One 
 may infer from a sketch of a grammar- 
 school founded in Sandwich, in 1580, by 
 sir Robert Manwood, that " cyphering" 
 was not deemed a necessary acquisition 
 to the young inhabitants, though this was 
 a cinque port. Latin, and parsing words, 
 were then the chief exercises. Mr. Ays- 
 cough, indeed, writing in 1797, says, — 
 " Whatever may be the present usage (i. e. 
 in grammar-schools), it is within recollec- 
 tion that,_^i!y years ago, there were sent, 
 from capital schools,* to the universities, 
 youths of good abilities, and not by any 
 means wanting in grammar and classical 
 learning, yet so little versed in common 
 figures, as to be obliged to have recourse 
 to a master of a day school in the town, 
 for instruction in the four fundamental 
 rules of arithmetic." 
 
 What, then, did these disputants in 
 churchyards, or at fairs, with whom we 
 commenced, understand ? Why, syntax, 
 and what they called metaphysics, or 
 logic, or some other kind of humdrum 
 stuff; arid, after the Reformation, besides 
 " qui, quiE, quod," they knew something 
 about ydp and roi — about Greek particles, 
 and Greek metres, and such unedifying, 
 artificial learning ; but could they do 
 more than count with counters, or their 
 
 <i e. The chief, or head public schools. 
 
 fingers'? Could they measure a plot of 
 ground ? gauge a cistern ? find the solid 
 contents of a haystack? or the height of 
 a steeple ? Did they know any thing 
 about the history, or constitution, of laws, 
 or customs, or antiquities of their country ? 
 What was their astronomical, mathemat- 
 ical, chemical, geographical, or other useful 
 knowledge, down to the times of Bacon, if 
 not of Newton ? Why, it was nothing, or 
 next to nothing.— Yet these parrots, with 
 a bit of dead linguistry, which a Grecian 
 ploughboy or milkmaid would have laugh- 
 ed at, thought themselves,, and were 
 thought by others, mighty fine scholars; 
 and, as is frequently the case even tu)w, 
 very competent to instruct others, 
 
 Greek, as I before have Stated, was 
 almost unknown in this country before' 
 the Reformation.* Wheri Erasmus lec- 
 tured in one of the universities here, I 
 have somewhere read that he could scarcely 
 obtain an auditory : as to Hebrew, there 
 were catholic priests, even, who considered 
 it a new language, then forming, and that 
 whoever learned it became a Jew. 
 
 I shall here, for the present, close this 
 very amusing subject with a display of 
 the library of that great disputant, theolo- 
 gian, and quack,-|- the " Defender of the 
 Faith," his Highness, Henry VIII. 
 
 One greale bookc, called sn Herbal, 
 
 Two greate Bibles in latten. 
 
 One bookc of Aiistotle, 
 
 A Masse booke covered with black velvet. 
 
 vi, other small books. 
 
 For the present I remain. 
 Yours respectfully, 
 
 NORRISSON ScATCHEnu. 
 
 I had rather confess my ignorance than 
 falsely profess knowledge. — It is no shame 
 not to know all things, but it is a just 
 shame to over-reach in any thing. — Bp. 
 Hall. 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 August 24. Day breaks . 
 
 . 2 43 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 4 59 
 
 — sets .. . 
 
 . 7 1 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 9 17 
 
 Large dragon fly common. 
 
 
 * See Ellis's Letters, second series, vol ii. 
 p. 60, Letter 111. M' Cree's life of Knox, 
 vol. i. p. 343. 
 
 t. It is manifest, from what has come out of 
 late years, that this monster was a very great 
 moll-coddle, besides quack. 
 
993 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— AUGUST 2'. 
 
 994 
 
 THE ROYAL €LARENCE VASE. 
 
 This engraving lield at arms length for signed and executed at Birmingham, by 
 
 a moment, and no more, may convey a Mr. John Gunb'yj and extiibited at tlie 
 
 slight notion of the superb glass Vase de- Queen's Bazaar, Oxford-street, London. 
 
 Vol. I.— 32. 2 K 
 
995 
 
 YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 24. 
 
 996 
 
 An immense bason of copper, and its 
 iron shaft, or foot, clothed with two 
 thousand four hundred pieces of glass, 
 construct a vase fourteen feet high, and 
 twelve feet wide across the brim, weighing 
 upwards of eight tons, and capable of 
 Molding eight pipes of wine. Each piece 
 of glass is richly Cut with mathematical 
 precision, and is beautifully colored ; the 
 colors are gold, ruby, and emerald, «nd 
 they are enamelled upon one side ..of the 
 glass. These colored sides -being ce- 
 mented upon the metal body, and rendered 
 perfectly air-tight in that junction, the 
 exterioTr is a gem-like surface of incon- 
 ceivable splendor. 
 
 On entering the room in which it is 
 exhibited,! was not so much struck by the 
 first sight of the vase, as I expected to be 
 from the account I had received respect- 
 ing it. The room being small, a few steps 
 from the entrance door had brought me 
 too near to the object, and the eye sought 
 relief from a mass of brilliancy. On con- 
 tinuing to look at it, the strong light of a 
 sunny summer afternoon^ commixing with 
 the full blaze from several gas-burners, 
 made out the details too clearly. Ascend- 
 ing a small gallery at the back of the apart- 
 ment, 1 saw down into the concavity of 
 the immense vessel. After admiring, for 
 a few minutes, the Thyrsis-like ornaments 
 of the interior, and then .proceeding to 
 descend the staiis, my eye was caught by 
 the shadow which dimmed a portion of 
 the exterior, and rendered more lustrous 
 the gleams shining from other parts. 
 It seemed to me that this was a good 
 place for a view ; and, lingering on the 
 stair-case, the beauty of the vase, as a 
 whole, appeared to gradually unfold. But, 
 upon reaching the floor of the room, the 
 sudden drawing of a curtain obscured 
 the day-light ; a^ the vase, by the illumi- 
 nation of gas alone, glittered like dia- 
 monds upon melting gold. From a 
 remote corner I observed the magic 
 splendor at leisure, and watched the 
 varying effects of different degrees of the 
 light, as it was heightened or lowered by 
 a valve regulating to the burners of the 
 surrounding lamps. Waiting till the 
 visitors had retired, who were better 
 pleased with its full lustre, the doors 
 were closed, and I was then allowed half 
 an hour's contemplation in a partial and 
 subdued light. By causing some of the 
 gas-burners to be extinguished, and the 
 flame in the others to be reduced to a fin- 
 ger's breadth, one side of the room was 
 
 darkened, parts of the vase were irt deep 
 shadow, and the rest seemed a glovring 
 goldcii fire, silently consuming precious 
 gems ; while the transparent edge of the 
 encircling rim above became a sparkling 
 nimbus of starlight. I coveted to be 
 shut up with the stillness, and banquet 
 my eyes through the night upon the gor- 
 geous vision. By elevating and adjust- 
 ing my hands to exclude the iUuminating 
 burners from my sight, the colossal gem 
 appeared through the gloom mysteriously 
 self-lighted, and I gazed and mused till I 
 might have imagined it to be the depo- 
 sitory of the talismans of Eblis, which 
 disclosed forbidden secrets and exhaust- 
 less treasures to the impious caliph who 
 preferred knowledge to wisdom, and who 
 discovered too late that the condition of 
 man is — to be humble and ignorant. ' 
 
 This gorgeous wonder produced solely 
 by native art, at the opening of a new and 
 auspicious asra in our history, should be 
 destined to the palace of a King who 
 holds the hearts of the people to his own, 
 and rules by the law of kindness. Let 
 them respectfully tender it to' His Ma- 
 jesty, as the splendid first fruits of British 
 ingenuity in the first year of his benefi- 
 cent reign, and in testimony of their 
 unanimous sense of bis paternal purposes. 
 To a subscription properly originated and 
 conducted, the poorest man that could 
 spare a mite would doubtless contribute ; 
 and the " Royal Clarence Vase" may be 
 an acceptable present from the Nation to 
 William the Fourth. 
 
 William Hone 
 
 July, 1831. 
 
 To Mn. John Gunbv, 
 
 On his resplendent Glass Vase. 
 
 [From Cowper.j 
 
 O I worthy of applause ! by all admired, 
 Because a novelty, the work of one 
 Whose skill adds lustre to his country's fame ! 
 Thy most magnificent and mighty freak, 
 The wonder of the arts. — No forest fell, 
 When thou wouldst build ; no quarry sent its 
 
 marble, 
 T 'enrich thy walls ; but thou didst form thy 
 
 Vase 
 From molten masses of the glassy wave. 
 Silently as a dream the fabric rose. 
 No sound of hammer or of saw was there ; 
 Glass upon glass the well adjusted parts 
 Were nicely join'd, with such cement secur'd. 
 Experience taught would firml make them 
 
997 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 24. 
 
 998 
 
 Colors of various hues, with gold embossM, 
 lUumine all around , a dazzling light 
 Shoots thro' the clear transparency, that seems 
 Another sun new risen, or meteor fallen 
 From heaven to earth, of lambent flame 
 
 serene. 
 So stands the splendid prodigy — A scenb 
 Of individual and of British ^ory — 
 And the rich meed has 6DNBY nobly eam'd. 
 James Ldckcock. 
 
 Edghatlon, Jidg 1, 1831. 
 
 Account by Mr. Reikagle. 
 
 The present era is distinguished by the 
 grand and rapid progress made in the 
 sciences and in arts, which multiply to 
 infinitum things to fill us with astonish- 
 ment. But up to the present day no part 
 of the world has produced a genius of 
 sufficient power of mind 10 conceive even 
 the possibility of fabricating in cut glass 
 an object of such wonderful magnificence, 
 and of a size so immensely colossal, as 
 the Vase of which we are about to paint, 
 in description, a feeble- portrait. 
 
 The human mind, in all its extensive 
 range of thought, is not able to conceive 
 a splendid Glass Vase, cut in the most 
 elaborate and novel way, and embellished 
 with enamel all over its surface, as this 
 presents itself to the beholder. 
 
 At the first sight one is confounded 
 with astonishment, and knows not whether 
 what we see is real, or whether we have 
 not been transported, on a sudden, to 
 another globe, to be surrounded by mira- 
 culous things. The spectacle is one of 
 the most surprising that can be exhibited. 
 
 To. England is due the honor of its 
 production; and it comes from the hand 
 of one of its numerous celebrated artists, 
 Mr. Gonby. Tlie precious metal, gold, 
 glitters in all its glory, intermixed, or 
 rather united, with extraordinary beauty 
 of cutting, and rich and splendid enamel 
 painting'—in colors the most vivid and im- 
 posing. The genius that is observed in 
 the design of the ornaments, and in the 
 novel beauty of the coup d'ceil, is remark- 
 able in all Its details, and leaves the spec- 
 tator bewildered. 
 
 One is at a loss whether.most to admire 
 the shape — the gorgeous brilliance — the 
 sparkle of the gems — the beauty of the 
 cutting — the enamelling^ — the general con- 
 ception — or the immense bulk of this 
 magnificent and astounding work of 
 art. We have seen China vases of a form 
 and size very large, but never of a decid- 
 edly fine contour. 
 
 Up to the present day all cut glass 
 vases have been limited to a scale of about 
 two feet, the pedestal included ; but here 
 is a cut glass vase, not only the most 
 embellished and the most beautiful in 
 shape possible to be conceived, but of a 
 magnitude beyond all previous calcula- 
 tion or conception. One is tempted to 
 believe that some supernatural inspiration 
 had devtipped to the mind of the distin- 
 guished artist the plan, and the means to 
 construct what no being of this globe, 
 since the creation, had ever seen. Such 
 is the truth. We know of no description . 
 in history that indicates any similar eflbrtj 
 and this precious colossal vase must be 
 seen to have any just idea of it. 
 
 <Drt0tnal l^oetr^. 
 
 w. c- 
 
 [Original.] 
 
 We have fill'd many a goblet high. 
 We have drain'd right many dry ; 
 We have trolled the merry glee 
 In tuneful company ; 
 We have laughed the night away. 
 And stood themnming^s bay ; 
 We have joyM in the same sun. 
 By the same moon woo*d and won ; 
 We have together connM the page 
 Of the poet and the sage ; 
 Made record of our sighs. 
 And oar vows to ladies' eyes j 
 Scorn'd the world, and the vain. 
 And the proud of its train ; 
 And revcal'd each to the other. 
 As an infant to its mother. 
 All the cares and the joys 
 That befel us men and boys. 
 But these shall never be agaia,~- 
 For thou art not now of men, — 
 But the heart that lov'd thee here 
 Will ever hold thee in its sphere. 
 Joy yet may be with me. 
 And I will think it is with thee. 
 When I tread our haimfs of old, 
 I will forget that thon art cold ; 
 I will place thee by my side. 
 As though death had but lied ; 
 And curl my lip again 
 At life and at men : 
 And our words shall be gay. 
 As they were in thy fife's May ; 
 And my heart shall be btfred. 
 As- to none but thee it dared : 
 And who will tell me then^ 
 That thou art not of meii f 
 
 S. H. S. 
 2 K 2 
 
99 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 25, 26. 
 
 1000 
 
 ^ugu0t 35. 
 
 August, 173S. At the assizes in Corn- 
 wall Henry Rogers was tried, condemn- 
 ed, and executed, for murder. He was 
 a pewterer at a village called Skewis, 
 and was so ignorant of the reason, as well 
 as of the power, of the law, that, when 
 a decree in chancery went against him, 
 he resisted all remonstrances, ajpd fortified 
 his house, making loop-holes for muskets, 
 through which he shot two men of the 
 posse comitatus, who attended the under 
 sheriff. A little while after, he shot one 
 Kitchens, as he was passing the high 
 road, on his private business. He also 
 fired through the window, and killed one 
 Toby ; and would not suffer his body to 
 be taken away to be buried, for some 
 days. At length the neighbouring jus- 
 tices of the peace assisted the constables, 
 and procured an aid of some soldiers, 
 one of whom he killed, and afterwards 
 made his escape ; but at Salisbury, on 
 his way towards London, he was appre- 
 hended and brought down to Cornwall. 
 Five bills of indictment were found against 
 him, by the grand jury, for the five mur- 
 ders. To save the court time, he was tried 
 on three X)f them only, and found guilty 
 in each case, before lord chief justice 
 Hardwick. As he lay in gaol, after his 
 condemnation, the under sheriff coming 
 in he attempted to seize his sword, with 
 a resolution to kill him, swearing he 
 should die easy if he could succeed in 
 that design. He was attended at the 
 place of suffering by several clergymen, 
 but they could make no impression on 
 his brutal stupidity, and he died without 
 expressing any remorse. His portrait, 
 from which this account is taken, repre- 
 sents him in prison, leaning with his left 
 arm on a bench, and hand-cuffed. His 
 appearance perfectly agrees with the de- 
 scription, and depicts him with a coun- 
 tenance of doltish ignorance, and hardened 
 insensibility to his situation. The print 
 is well executed and very rare 
 
 of the Garter." A plate of arms, inside, 
 showed that the diminutive rarity had once 
 been the property of " Joannis Towneley 
 de Towneley. " A scarce portrait of 
 JefFery was inserted, under which were 
 inscribed these lines : — 
 " Gaze on with wonder and diacerac in me 
 The abstract of the world's epitome. 
 J.' 
 
 Tevfery Hudson. 
 
 Mb. Hone, 
 
 Amongst the books of Mr. Nassau, 
 brother to lord Rochford (sold by Evans 
 of Pall Mall, in February 1824) was a 
 copy of " The New Yeere's Gift, " men- 
 tioned at p. 16, which, according to a 
 manuscript note on the fly-leaf, was 
 "bound with a piece of Charles I.st's 
 waistcoat, and tied with the blue ribbon 
 
 Fihe Engines. 
 
 Mr. John Lofting, a merchant of Lon- 
 don, was the inventor and patentee of the 
 fire-engine, as we are informed by a very 
 rare engraving of him. In one corner of 
 it is ", view of the Monument, and in 
 another the Royal Exchange, &c. The 
 engines are represented as at work, with 
 letter-press explanations. 
 
 Practical Hint on Bees. 
 Dr. Joseph Warder, a physician, is now 
 chiefly remembered by a treatise on Bees 
 dedicated to Queen Anne '• the Queen 
 Bee of Britain." Upon mentioning this 
 writer the Rev. Mark Noble says, " Few 
 persons have seen more of Bees than the 
 inhabitants of my rural residence ; but, 
 after great expense incurred in endeavour- 
 ing to forward their operations, perhaps 
 the cottager's humble method is the bes 
 for profit." 
 
 
 h. m 
 
 2^1 Day breaks 
 
 . 2 46 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 5 
 
 — sets ^ . 
 
 . r 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 9 14 
 
 aU0U0t 26. 
 
 26 August, 1776, died, aged 73, at 
 Paris, the celebr.ited historical tourist of 
 that city, Germain Francois PouUain de 
 St. Foix. His only amusements were 
 the society of a few literary friends, a 
 beautiful garden, an aviary peopled with 
 different kinds of birds, seven or eight 
 cats to which he was strongly attached, 
 and some other animals. In all seasons 
 he slept upon a sofa, with no covering 
 but a dressing-gown. He was desirous 
 of being a member of the French Acade- 
 my, but it was customary to make visits, 
 and to this he could not conform. He 
 
1001 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— AUGUST 27. 
 
 lOOS 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Day breaks 
 
 . 2 49 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 5 2 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 6 58 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 9 11 
 
 died in the arms of M. Very, a priest 
 with whom he was intimate. 
 
 August 26. 
 
 ^U0U0t 27. 
 
 Huge Fish. 
 " Verj like a whale." 
 
 Olaus Magnus, archbishop of Upsal, 
 cites a certain noble Englishman as saying 
 — " In the month of August^ 1532, our 
 seas cast upon the shores of Tinmouth a 
 dead beast of a vast magnitude, now 
 greatly wasted, yet there remains still as 
 muc^ of it as 100 great waggons can 
 draw. It was about ninety feet long as 
 it lay in the sands, about twenty-five feet 
 in thickness; some conjecture that his 
 back was nine feet or more under the sand 
 — ^I came thither the 27th of August. He 
 had thirty ribs of a side, most of them 
 twenty-one foot long a-piece ; three bellies 
 like vast caves, and thirty throats, whereof 
 five were very great; and two fins, each 
 of fifteen foot long; ten oxen could 
 scarcely draw one of them away. He had 
 no teeth ; there grew to his palate above 
 1000 plates of horn; hairy on one side; the 
 length of the head, from the crown to the 
 chaps, was twenty-one feet : his eyes and 
 nostrils were like to an ox's, and far too 
 STiiall for so great a head, which had two 
 great holes, whereby it was supposed this 
 monster cast up water. A man rending 
 away his share of the prize, and falling 
 into the inside of the animal, was nearly 
 drowned." 
 
 The archbishop has a marvellous chap- 
 -ter " Of the many kinds of whales." He 
 says, " some are hairy, and of four acres 
 in bigness ; the acre is 240 feet long, and 
 120 bioad." Another kind " hath eyes 
 so large that fifteen men may sit in the 
 room of each of them, and sometimes 
 twenty, or more; his horns are six or 
 seven feet long, and he hath 250 upon 
 each eye, as hard as horn, that he can 
 stir stiff or gentle, either before or behind." 
 He has another chapter, " Of anchors 
 fastened upon whales backs," in which 
 he tells, " The whale hath upon his skin 
 a superficies like the gravel Uiat is by the 
 sea-side; so that, pft-times, when he tais- 
 
 eth his back above the water, sailors 
 laketh it to be nothing else but an island^ 
 and land upon it, and they strike piles 
 into it, and fasten them to their ships : 
 they kindle fires to boil their meat, until, 
 at length, the whale, feeling the fire, dives 
 down suddenly into tlie depth, and draws 
 both man and ships after hinr, unless the 
 anchor breaks." 
 
 Olaus tells of fish on the coast of Nor- 
 way, of horrible forms, having very black 
 square heads, of ten or twelve cubits, 
 with huge eyes, eight or ten cubits in cir- 
 cumference ; the apple of the eye being 
 of one cubit, and red and fiery colored, 
 which, in the dark nights, and in the deep 
 waters, appears to fishermen like a burn- 
 ing lamp ; and on the head there being 
 hair like long goose-feathers hanging 
 down in manner of a beard : the rest of 
 the body, small in proportion, not being 
 more than fourteen or fafteen cubits long. 
 " One of these sea-monsters," says Olaus, 
 " will easily drown many great ships with 
 their mariners. The long and famous 
 epistle of Ericus Falchendorf, metropoli- 
 tan archbishop of Norway to Leo X., 
 about the year 1520, confirms this strange ' 
 novelty : and to this epistle was listened 
 the head of another monster seasoned 
 with salt." 
 
 In another chapter, " Of the whirlpool, 
 and his cruelty against the mariners," 
 Olaus treats of this " whirlpool " as a 
 stupendous fish. He says, " the whirl- 
 pool, or prister, is of the kind of whales, 
 200 cubits long, and very cruel. This 
 beast hath a large and round mouth like a 
 lamprey, whereby he sucks in his meat or 
 water, and will cast such floods above his 
 head, thathe will often sink the strongest 
 ships. He will sometimes raise him-' 
 self above the sail-yards, and cruelly 
 overthrow the ship like any small vessel, 
 striking it with his back or tail, which is 
 forked, wherewith he forcibly binds any 
 part of the ship when he twists it about." 
 Olaus affirms that a trumpet of war is the 
 fit remedy against hini, by reason of 
 the sharp noise which he cannot endure, 
 or the sound of cannon with which he is 
 more frightened, than by a cannon-ball,. 
 " because this ball loseth its force by the 
 water, or wounds but a little his most vast 
 body, being hindered by a mighty ram- 
 part of fat." 
 
 These relations of the worthy prelate- 
 are for the reader to determine upon, ac- 
 cording to liking ; but it must not be for- 
 gotten that the archbishop concludes his. 
 
iOOS 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 28^ 
 
 1004 
 
 account of the last described "beast," as 
 he calls him, by saying, " Also I must 
 add that, on the coasts of Norway, both 
 old and new monsters are seen," which 
 usually inhabit " the inscrutable depth of 
 the waters ;" and that in these great deeps 
 " there are many kinds of fishes that sel- 
 dom or never are seen by man." 
 
 Among the wonderful inhabitants of 
 the ocean, observed upon its surface, are 
 snakes or serpents. Olaus Magnus says, 
 " There is on the coasts of Norway a 
 vporm of a blue and gray color, above 
 forty cubits long, yet hardly so thick as 
 the arm of a child. He goes forward in 
 the sea like a line, that he can hardly be 
 perceived how he goes. He hurts no man, 
 unless he be crushed in a man's hand ; for, 
 by the touch of his most tender skin, the 
 fingers of one that touches him will swell. 
 When he is vexed and tormented by 
 crabs, he twines himself about, hoping to 
 get away but cannot ; for the crab with 
 his claws, as with toothed pincers, takes 
 so fast hold at him, that he is held as fast 
 as a ship is by an anchor. I oft saw this 
 worm," says Olaus, " but touched it not, 
 being forewarned by the mariners." 
 
 Again, he says, " They who employ 
 themselves in fishing or merchandize on 
 the coasts of Norway, do all agree in this 
 strange story, that there is a serpent there 
 which is of a vast magnitude, namely 200 
 feet long,, and twenty feet thick, which is 
 wont to live in rocks and caves towards the 
 sea-coast, and will go in a clear night in 
 .■iumraer, and devout calves, lambs, and 
 hogs ; or else he goes into the sea to feed. 
 He is black, hath hair hanging from his 
 neck a cubit long, sharp scales, and 
 flaming eyes. This snake disquiets the 
 sailors : he puts up his head on high like 
 a pillar, and catcheth away men, and he 
 devours them. There is also another ser- 
 pent, of an incredible magnitude, that lifts 
 himself high above the waters, and rolls 
 himself round like a sphere." 
 
 If these things be credible, so may the 
 accounts of the American sea-serpent. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Avgusl 27. Day breaks . . 2 52 
 
 Sun rises ... 5 4 
 
 — sets ... 6 56 
 
 Twiligl^t ends ..98 
 
 auguet 28. 
 
 28 August, 1788, died at Paris, aged 
 sixty-eight, Elizabeth Chudleigh, duchess 
 
 of Kingston, a woman celebrated for 
 beauty and profligacy. She was a native of 
 Devonshire. Her father, a colonel in the 
 English army, died whilst she was very 
 young. Her mother, supported solely by 
 a slender pension from government, fre- 
 quented the heartless society of fashionable 
 life, and through Mr. Pulleney, afterwards 
 earl of Bath, procured her daughter to be 
 appointed lady of honor to the princess 
 of Wales. Miss Chudleigh attracted 
 many admirers. The duke of Hamilton 
 obtained the preference, and it was fixed 
 that, upon his return from a continental 
 tour, the marriage should be celebrated. 
 Mrs. Hanmer, aunt to Miss Chudleigh, 
 intercepted the letters addressed to her 
 niece by the duke, and succeeded in per- 
 suading her to privately marry captain 
 Hervey, afterwards earl of Bristol. On 
 the day after the nuptials, Miss Chudleigh 
 resolved never to see her husband |igain, 
 and they separated. The duke, upon re- 
 turning to England, ofiered his hand to 
 Miss Chudleigh, of whose marriage he was 
 ignorant, and to his astonishment was re- 
 fused. To escape his reproaches, and the 
 resentment of Mrs. Chudleigh, who was 
 likewise a stranger to the secret engage- 
 ments of her daughter, she embarked for 
 the continent in a style of shameless dissi- 
 pation; and, as Miss Chudleigh, so wrought 
 upon Frederick the Great that he dispensed 
 with all etiquette, in consequence of her re- 
 quest, that " she might study at her ease a 
 prince who gave lessons to all Europe, and 
 who might boast of having an admirer in 
 every individual of the British nation." 
 During her residence at Berlin she was 
 treated with the highest distinction. She 
 afterwards went to Dresden, where she 
 obtained the friendship of the electress. 
 who loaded her with presents. Upon 
 returning to England she resumed her 
 attendance upon the princess of Wales ■ 
 and continued to be the attraction of the 
 court. Her marriage with Captain Hervey 
 perpetually annoyed her, and to destroy all 
 trace of it she went with a party to the par- 
 ish, where the marriage was celebrated, 
 and, having asked for the register-book, 
 tore out the register of her marriage, while 
 the clergyman was in conversation with 
 the rest of the party. Shortly afterwards, 
 captain Hervey becoming earl of Bristol 
 by the death of his father, and a rumor 
 prevailing that he was in a declining state 
 of health. Miss Chudleigh, now countess 
 of Bristol, hoping to be soon a wealthy 
 dowager, obtained the restoration of the 
 
1005 
 
 T«E YEAR BOOK— AUGUST 28, 
 
 1006 
 
 register in the vestry-bouk. To hei 
 severe disappmotment the earl recovered, 
 while tlie duke of Kingston, still igno- 
 rant of her marriage, solicited her hand. 
 She made unavailing efforts to prevail on 
 '.he earl of Bristol to agree to a divorce, 
 till at length he became enamoured of 
 another lady, and a divorce by mutual 
 consent was pronounced at Doctors' Com- 
 mons. She nad now reached the summit 
 of her wishes, and was publicly married 
 on the 8th of March, 1769, to Evelyn 
 Fierrepont, duke of Kingston, with whom 
 she lived till his death, in 1773. The 
 duke bequeathed to her his entire pro- 
 perty, upon condition that she should 
 never marry again ; and the duchess 
 plunged into a course of licentiousness 
 which exposed her to public censure, and 
 in consequence of which she went to Italy. 
 A magnificent yacht, built and ornamented 
 at an .immense expense, conveyed her to 
 Rome, where she was received by the 
 pope and cardinals with great pomp, and 
 treated as a princess. During her resi- 
 dence at Rome, she was on the eve of 
 bestowing her hand and fortune upon an 
 adventurer, who represented himself to be 
 the prince of Albania, when he was 
 apprehended as a swindler, and committed 
 suicide in prison. Soon afterwards she 
 learned that the heirs of the duke of 
 Kingston sought to establish against her 
 the charge of bigamy, in order to invali- 
 date her marriage with the duke, and set 
 aside his will. She instantly repaired to 
 her banker, who, having been gained over 
 by the other party, concealed himself, to 
 avoid giving her the sum requisite for a 
 journey to London. She placed herself 
 at his door, and, pistol in hand, com- 
 pelled him to comply with her demiind. 
 Upon her arrival in England she found 
 that her first marriage had been declared 
 valid, upon the ground of incompetency 
 in the court which had pronounced it void. 
 Public opinion was against her ; and, under 
 the character of lady Kitty Crocodile, she 
 was ridiculed by, Foote, in A Trip to 
 Calais, which she succeeded in obtaming 
 to be prohibited. The validity of her first 
 marriage being established, preparations 
 were made to try her for bigamy, and West- 
 minster Hall was fitted up with great 
 state. The trial was attended by most 
 of the members of the royal family, the 
 foreign ambassadors, members of par- 
 liament, and other distinguished per- 
 soijages. The duchess, in deep mourning, 
 took her seat cnmoved, attended by two 
 
 femmes de chambre, a physician, an apothe- 
 cary, her secretary, and six counsel.' She 
 addressed the peers with energy, but was 
 declared gui/ty. But, although her marriage 
 with the duke was declared bad, his will 
 was decided to be good : she lost the title 
 but retained the property. Upon this 
 issue of the affair, the adversaries of lady 
 Bristol took measures to prevent her 
 quitting the kingdom ; but, whilst the writ 
 Tie exeat regno was preparing, she em- 
 barked for Calais and proceeded to Rome. 
 After remaining there for some time she 
 returned to Calais, and hired a spacious 
 mansion which she splendidly furnished ; 
 but, the monotony of the town not suiting 
 her volatile and turbulent disposition, she 
 made a voyage to St. Petersburgh, in a 
 magnificent yacht, and was Received with 
 the highest distinction by the Empress 
 Catherine, to whom she presented- the 
 valuable collection of pictures formed by 
 the Kingston family. She afterwards 
 went to Poland, where prince Radzivil 
 gave sumptuous entertainments in honor 
 of her visit, particularly a bearrhunt by 
 torch-light. Upon returning to France 
 she purchased the beautiful ch&teau de 
 Sainte Assize, two leagues from Fontaine- 
 bleau, and the mansion in the rue Coq- 
 Hdron, at Paris, where she died, after 
 executing a vrill, made by two attorneys 
 who came from England on purpose. 
 She bequeathed a set of jewels to the 
 Empress of Russia, a large diamond to 
 the pope, and a costly pearl necklace and 
 ear-rings to the countess of Salisbury, 
 because they had belonged to a lady who 
 bore that title in the reign of Henry IV. 
 Her property in France was estiinated at 
 £200,000 sterling, besides which she had 
 valuable possessions in England and 
 Russia. * 
 
 The character of this female is easily 
 explained. She had a foolish fashion- 
 able mother, who taught her to covet the 
 vanity of distinction. She acquired it by 
 nefarious arts, became rich and ostenta- 
 tious, lived flagitiously, died dishonored, 
 and is only remembered for her vices. 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 August 28. Day breaks 
 
 . 2 55 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . S 6 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 6 54 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 9 i 
 
 Blackberries ripen. 
 
 
 • Paris iii. 221. 
 
 
1007 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 28. 
 
 lOOfl 
 
 OLD CHAPEL AT PADDLESWORTH. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] considerable evidence of antiquity. "On 
 
 This building, now used as an outhouse, entering it," says the author of Summer 
 
 is situate within ashoctwalkof Snodland, Wanderings, " a large white owl, scared 
 
 Kent. The exterior offers little worthy by our presence, slid out by an old loop- 
 
 ef observation, btit internally it bears hole in one of its walls, and swam silently 
 
1009 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 28. 
 
 010 
 
 away through the garish light, to seek some 
 other congenial resort. 'There y fit re- 
 mains the mitred archway very fair and 
 large, of, wrought stone, which separated 
 the chancel from the bodi/ of the Church,' 
 apparently of more . recent workmanship 
 than the rest of the building. One of the 
 gable ends having suffered considerable 
 injury, the roof in many places stands off 
 from it, and the light thus admitted strikes 
 so vividly on the eye as to produce a 
 painfuletfect. When Hasted saw it, there 
 was a breach made in the north side, wide 
 enough for cattle to go in for shelter, and 
 to receive ploughs, harrows, and other 
 implements of husbandry ; it is now 
 repaired." — ' ' 
 
 A Ultle boy went into a bam. 
 And lay down on some hay : 
 
 An owl came out and flew about. 
 And the liule boy ran away. 
 
 So runs one of those " Songs for the Nur- 
 sery" endeared to us by association with 
 our brightest and most pleasurable days. 
 It is culled from a collection published in 
 1825, by William Dartoh, Holbom-hill, 
 who is entitled to our best thanks for car- 
 rying us back to those scenes of infancy 
 and boyhood which the mist of years 
 cannot shroud, but on the contrary serves 
 only to invest with an air of sanctity and 
 beauty. These verses are diiferentin their 
 character, and display a variety of talent. 
 Some are instructive, some amusing, some 
 traditionary, but all, with one or two ex- 
 ceptions, are just what they should be. 
 The mem conscia recti is admirably illus- 
 trated in the little narrative of 
 Jack Homer. 
 
 Little Jack Burner 
 
 Sat in a comer 
 
 Eating a Christinas pie. 
 
 He put in his thumb 
 
 And pulled out a plum— 
 
 And said, ' What a good boy am I !' 
 
 From this Iiistory it will be at once evi- 
 dent that the complacency of Little Jack 
 arises, not from his simple and undivided 
 interest in the pie, but from a conscious- 
 ness that he had acted uprightly, — the 
 pastry being very possibly the reward of 
 his honorable behaviour. 
 
 For sublimity of conception Iknow of 
 nothing that excels the following : — 
 
 To be sung on a high wind 
 Arthur o'Bower has broken his band. 
 He comes roaring up the land — 
 King of Scots, with all his power. 
 Cannot turn Arthur of the bower. 
 
 Milton's winds ' rushing abroad from the 
 four hinges of the world, and falling on 
 the vext wilderness," shrinks into insignifi- 
 cance, when compared with this mighty 
 conqueror " breaking his band," roaring 
 and raving up the land, and daring even 
 a " King of Scots" to take the field against 
 him. Then there is the sweet blending of 
 high and manly- dignity with all the gen- 
 tleness of love, supposed, in the name 
 bestowed on tfiis valorous personage — the 
 greatness and majesty couched under the 
 appellation "Arthur," combined with the 
 soli and soothing considerations insepar- 
 ably connected with his title "of the 
 bower !" 
 
 Take as a contrast to this busy bustling 
 hero, a piece of " still life" transplanted 
 from p. 11 : — 
 
 Hickory, dickory, dock. 
 The mouse ran up the clock. 
 The clock struck one. 
 And the mouse came down. 
 Hickory, dickory, dock ! 
 Think, gentle reader, of the " grim ana 
 breathless hour of noon," and tratisport 
 yourself to a cottage in (he country, with 
 its door standing ajar, and the window 
 thrown open to the widest". The clock 
 stands within a few minutes of the " very 
 witching hour of day," but the good 
 housewife, not having read Milton, knows 
 nothing of the " fear lest dinner cool," 
 and has dropped into, her neighbour's to 
 hear the news. A poor mouse steals out 
 into the quiet sunshine and clambers up 
 the varnished case of this appendage, for 
 what purpose this deponent saith not, 
 when io 1 
 
 The clock strikes one, 
 
 And the mouse comes down. 
 
 Hickory, dickory, dock ! 
 
 Some of the descriptive touches of these 
 " Songs" are excellent — 
 
 Oue misty moisty morning. 
 When cloudy was the weatheiv— 
 pats to silence all the " towery dimness" 
 of Mr. Robert Montgomery. The witch's 
 exploit too is quite in character : — 
 Whither, oh whither, oh whither so high ? 
 To sweep the cobwebs off the sky ! 
 
 Crabbe never did any thing finer than 
 the Poor-house Paralytic, and the Village 
 Idiot— 
 
 The girl in the lane, that could not speak 
 plain. 
 
 Went gobble, gobble, gobble — 
 The man on the bill, that could not itand still. 
 
 Went hobble,' hobble, hobble- 
 
lOlt 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 29, 30 
 
 1012 
 
 Alas for Miss Muffett! she lias mar- 
 vellously diverted us : — 
 
 LSttle Miss Muffett 
 
 She sat na a tuffett. 
 Eating of curds and whey : 
 
 There came a little spider, 
 
 And sat down beside her. 
 And frightened Miss Muffett away. 
 Picture to yourself the dark and side-long 
 gait of the smart little spider, scrambling 
 towards the young lady, and taking in 
 most orderly sort his seat beside her I 
 Then for the distress and consternation of 
 little Miss Muffett ; how she screams out, 
 leaps up, and shakes her frock as if all 
 the scorpions in Egypt were clinging 
 round it, and then wheels round like a 
 dying peg-top, till, having staggered a few 
 paces onwards, she settles down upon a 
 daisied bank to take breath ; and, ten to 
 one, dreams of spiders all the next night 1 
 ' St. Pierre was right when he said that 
 persons usually choose for their com- 
 panions through life those who differ from 
 tfaem in certain essentials, and this con- 
 stitutes the grand mystery of conjugal 
 felicity. Take a lesson from Jack Sprat's 
 wife, and choose one whose habits will as 
 happily dove-tail with yours ;— 
 
 Jack Sprat 
 
 Could 'eat no fat, 
 And his wife could eat no lean. 
 
 And so, between them both. 
 They licked the platter clean. 
 
 august 29. 
 
 St. John Baptist beheaded. 
 
 niere are particulars concerning the 
 former celebrations of this - day in the 
 Euery-Day Book, ii. 1140, where are also 
 some legendary accounts of the Baptist's 
 decollation by order of Herod.. 
 Salome. 
 
 Once on a charger there was laid, \ 
 
 And brought before a royal maid, 
 As price of attitude and grace, 
 A guiltless head^ a holy face. 
 
 It was on Herod's natal day, 
 Who o'er, Judea^s land held sway, 
 tie married hi& own brother's wife^ 
 Wicked Herodias, She the life 
 Of John the Baptist long had sought. 
 Because he openly had taught 
 That she a life unlawful led. 
 Having her husband's brother wed. 
 
 This was he, that saintly John, 
 Who in the wilderness alone 
 Abiding, did for clothiug wear 
 A garment made of camel's hair ; 
 
 Honey and locusts were his food. 
 And he was most severely good. 
 He preached penitence and tears. 
 And, waking first the sinner's fears. 
 Prepared a path, made smooth a way 
 For his diviner master's day. 
 
 Herod kept in princely state 
 His birth-day. On his throne he sate. 
 After the feast, beholding her 
 Who danced with grace peculiar ; 
 Fair Salome, who did excel 
 All in that land for dancing well. 
 The feastful monarch's heart was fired. 
 And whatso'er thing she desired. 
 Though half his kingdom it should be. 
 He in his pleasure swore that he 
 Would give the graceful Salome. ^ 
 
 The damsel was Herodios' daughter : 
 She to the queen hastes, and besought hot, 
 To teach her what great gift to name. 
 Instructed by Herodias, came 
 The damsel back ; to Herod said, 
 " Give me John the Baptist's head \ 
 " And in a charger let it be 
 *' Hither straightway brought to me.'* 
 Herod her suit would fain deny. 
 But for his oath's sake must comply. 
 
 When painters would by art express 
 Beauty in unloveliuess. 
 Thee, Herodias' daughter, thee. 
 They fittest subject take to be. 
 They give thy form and features grace ; 
 But ever in thy beauteous face 
 They show a stedfast cruel gaze. 
 An, eye unpitying ; and amaze 
 In all beholders deep they mark. 
 That thou betrayest not one spark 
 Of feeling for the ruthless deed 
 That did thy praiseful dance succeed. 
 For on the head they make you look. 
 As if a sullen joy you took, 
 A cruel triumph, wicked pride. 
 That for your sport a saint had died. 
 
 Charles LAMa 
 
 h. m. 
 AngusC 29. Day breaks . . 2 57 
 Sun rises ... 5 8 
 — sets ... 6 52 
 Twilight ends ..93 
 Bundle fungus, agaricus fatcicularisy 
 spring at the base of old decayed posts, 
 &c. 
 
 aU0U0t 30. 
 
 August 30, 1654. Evelyn, being at 
 Peterborough, makes this entry in his 
 Diary : — " From the steeple we viewed 
 the fens of Lincolnshire, now much en- 
 closed, and drained with infinite expense 
 by many sluices, into mounds andingeni- 
 ous mills, and the like inventions, at which 
 the city and country about it, consisting 
 
1013 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 31. 
 
 10i4 
 
 of a very poor and lazy sort ol people, 
 were much displeased." 
 
 Draining in England was chiefly ef- 
 fected by works undertaken by the monks. 
 In the reign of Elizabeth there was a new 
 invention " to inne and drayne grounds." 
 
 h. m. 
 Jufftsl 30. Day breaks ,.30 
 Sun rises . . . 5 10 
 — sets ... 6 50 
 Twilight ends . 9 
 The agaricus integer forms, particularly 
 the ris, which is found in large woods 
 among fallen bark. 
 
 August 31. 
 
 31st August, 1807, Cardinal York, the 
 last lineal male descendant of the House 
 of Stuart, died. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 " If any thing," says Voltaire, " could 
 justify those who believe in an unavoid- 
 able fatality, it would be the series of 
 misfortunes which, for the space of three 
 hundred years, have befallen the House 
 of Stuart." 
 
 It is afiSrmed that when Fleance, the 
 son of Banquo, fled into North Wales to 
 shield himself from the power of Mac- 
 beth, the tyrant of Scotland, he' found a 
 friendly asylum at the court of Griflydth 
 ap Llewellyn, the reigning prince, by 
 whom he was long entertained with the 
 warmest affection ; and that becoming 
 enamoured of Nest, the daughter of Grif- 
 iydth, and violating the laws of hospitality 
 and honor, he formed an illicit intimacy 
 with her, and had by her a son whom they 
 named Walter. Gryffydth, in resentment 
 for so foul an offence, ordered Fleance to 
 be slain, and reduced his daughter to ser- 
 vitude. As her son Walter advanced in 
 years, he excelled ia valor and elevation 
 of mind. In a dispute with a companion 
 his birth was reproachfully retorted on 
 him ; he slew his antagonist on the 
 spot, and fearing to abide the conse- 
 quences fled into Scotland, where he at- 
 tached himself to the English, in the 
 train of Queen Margaret, sister to Edgar 
 Atheling. Walter by his conduct and 
 ability acquired great esteem; he obtained 
 honorable public employment, and was 
 ultimately appointed High Steward of 
 Scotland, from which office he and his 
 descendants took the name of Stewart, 
 or Stu^t. From this root sprung the 
 royal family of Stuart, as well as other 
 
 branches of illustrious families in Scot'- 
 land.* 
 
 Sir Walter Scott, however, alleges that 
 " Early authorities show us no such per- 
 sons as Banquo and his son Fleance, nor 
 have we reason to think that the latter ever 
 fled further from Macbeth than across the 
 flat scene according to the stage direction — 
 neither were Banquo or his son ancestors 
 to the house of Stuart."f In addition to 
 this, there is a statement of more im- 
 portance by Sir Walter — ^"The genealogy 
 of the Stewart family, who acceded to the 
 throne of Scotland, has been the theme of 
 many a fable. But their pedigree has by 
 late antiquarians been distinctly traced to 
 the great Anglo-Norman family of Fitz- 
 Alan in England : no unworthy descent 
 for a race of monarcfas. In David the 
 first's time, Walter Fitz-Alan held the high 
 post of Senechal or high steward of the 
 king's household ; and, the dignity be- 
 coming hereditary in the family, what was 
 origmally a title became a surname." J 
 
 That (he Stuarts themselves believed in 
 their being descended from Banquo, and 
 that one of our Universities also gave 
 credence to it, is a recorded fact — for 
 when James I. (of England) visited the 
 University of Oxford, on passing the gate 
 of St. John's College, his Majesty was 
 sainted by three youths representing the 
 weird sisters (Sibyllae) who in Latin hex- 
 ameters bade the descendant of Banguo 
 hail, as king of Scotland, England, and 
 Ireland. " Ad Regis introitum, e Joanensi 
 CoUegio extra portam urbis Borealem sito, 
 tres quasi Sibyllas, ut e sylv& salutft- 
 runt. 
 
 " 1st. Fatidicas olim fama est cecinisse so- 
 Tores 
 
 Imperinm sine fine tax, rex inclyte, 
 stirpis. 
 
 Banquohem agnovit generosa Loqua- 
 bria Thanum ; 
 
 Nee tibi, Banquo, sed tvis sceptra, 
 nepotibus illai 
 
 Immortalibus immOTtalia vaticinate ; 
 
 In saltum, ut lateas, dum, Banquo, 
 recedis ab aula. 
 
 Tres eadem pariter canimus tibi fata 
 tuisque, 
 
 Dum, spectande tuis e saitu accedis ad 
 urbem, 
 
 Teque salutamus : Salve, cai Scotia 
 servit. 
 
 * Warrington's History of Wales, b. 4. — 
 Holingshead'a Chron. 
 
 t Lardner's Ency. — Hist, Scotland, vol. I, 
 p. 18. 
 
 } Ibid~p. 21P. 
 
1015 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 31. 
 
 1016 
 
 " 2d. AngliiE cui. Salve. 
 
 ** 3d. — Cui servit Hibcrnia, Salve. 
 
 '* 1. Gallia cui titulos, terras dant cetera. 
 
 Salve. 
 " 2. Quein divisa prins colit una'Brittannia 
 
 Salve. 
 " 3d. Summe, Monarcha Brittannise, Hi- 
 bernx, Galliae, Salve, &c, &c.* 
 
 Walter Stuart or Stewart, High Steward 
 of Scotland, whose office bad given 
 name to his family, was married to Mar- 
 jory, ths daughter of Robert Bruce, the 
 deliverer of Scotland. Their son, Ro- 
 bert, succeeded to the throne on the death 
 of his uncle David, with whom the male 
 line of Bruce became extinct.* 
 . Robert II., the first of the Stuarts, 
 came to the throne in right of his mother. 
 He was aged and infirm at his accession, 
 and his reign was neither happy nor tran- 
 quil. He was succeeded by his son John,-)- 
 who, on being crowned, assumed the name 
 and title of 
 
 Robert III. This prince was lame in 
 body and enervated in mind : his reign was 
 unquiet. The wild conduct and cruel 
 murder of his eldest son, David, and the 
 subsequent unjust detention of James, his 
 surviving son, by Henry IV. of England, 
 caused him to die of sorrow. 
 
 James I., for eighteen years a captive 
 in England, found his country in a greatly 
 .disturbed state on his return to it ; he f^ll 
 by the hands of assassins at Perth. 
 
 James II., constantly in civil wars, 
 basely murdered a Douglas with his own 
 hand, and was killed by the bursting of a 
 cannon at the siege of Roxburgh. 
 
 James III. was murdered by his rebel- 
 lious subjects, after a battle with them 
 near Bannockburn. 
 
 James IV. lost his life in Flodden 
 Field. 
 
 James V. died of a broken heart, after 
 his defeat at Solway, in the belief that 
 ' his nobles and generals had been false to 
 him. 
 
 Mary, his daughter, experienced a life 
 of strange vicissitudes ; she was treacher- 
 ously deceived, and, after languishing 
 many years in prison, was basely mur- 
 dered by her kinswoman, Elizabeth. — 
 Whether guilty or not of the crimes laid 
 to her charge, will, probably, ever remain 
 a point for doubt ; but, as her latest his- 
 
 * Kichols's Progresses, Processions, &c., of 
 James the first, vol. I. p. 545. 
 
 t Le Sage's Historical Atlas Ko, 16 ; also 
 Hist, of Scotland passim. 
 
 Scott's History of Scotland, vol. i. 
 
 torian remarks, " This may be truly said, 
 that if a life of exile and misery, endured 
 with the most saintly patience, could atone 
 for crimes and errors of the class imputed 
 to her, no such penalty was ever more 
 fully discharged than that of Mary 
 Stuart." * Her son united the two crowns 
 England and Scotland. 
 
 James I. Adversity remitted, during 
 his time only, the persecution of his race; 
 although the early part of his reign, as 
 king of Scotland, was any thing but feli- 
 citous. The change of style on this king's 
 accession is said to have fulfilled an old 
 prophecy. " The prophecy," says Bacon, 
 " I heard when I was a child, and Queen 
 Elizabeth was in the fiower of her years, 
 was 
 
 ' When HEMPE u spun, 
 Bnglmtd a done ! 
 Whereby it was generally conceived, that 
 after the princes had reigned which had 
 the principal letters of that word hempe, 
 which were Henry, Edward, Mary, Phi- 
 lip, and Elizabeth, England should come 
 to utter confusion, which thanks be to God 
 is verified in the change of name ; for 
 that the king's style is now no more Eng- 
 land but Britain." 
 
 Charles I., who delugeu his country 
 with his subjects' blood, was dethroned 
 and beheaded. Howel notices a curious 
 error which was made at his proclamation, 
 " King Charles," says he, " was pro- 
 claimed at Theobald's Court Gate by Sir 
 Edward Zouch, Knight Marshal, Master 
 Secretary Conway dictating unto him, 
 ' Whereas it has pleased God to take to 
 his mercy our gracious Sovereign King 
 James, of famous memory, we prddaiih 
 Prince Charles his rightful and indu- 
 bitable heir, &c. &c.,' the Knight Marshal 
 mistook, and said, ' his rightful and dubit- 
 able heir,' but he was rectified by the 
 secretary." 
 
 Charles II. experienced a long series 
 of misfortunes, both in exile % and on the 
 throne. During his reign, the Dutch 
 fleet, under De Ruyter, appeared in the 
 
 * Scott's History of Scotland, vol. ii. 
 t Bacon's Essays. 
 i A narrative of the dangers to which he 
 was exposed after the Battle of Worcester is 
 published in a little volume entitled " Bos- 
 cobel," from the name of the house in which 
 he lay concealed. This has been lately re- 
 printed, in a collection of otner pieces relating 
 to the, king's escape. 
 
1017 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 31. 
 
 lOlS 
 
 Thames, took Sheerness and burnt many 
 ships of war, and almost insulted the 
 capital itself in their predatory incursion. * 
 Virtue was depressed and vice and levity 
 countenanced throughout the land. His 
 death was sudden and not without sus- 
 picion of poison, although some histo- 
 rians say there is no ground for such 
 belief, t 
 
 James II., a weak, intolerant, and be- 
 sotted prince, whose intentions, it was 
 suspected, were to replace the kingdom 
 under the papal jurisdiction ; for which, 
 and various acts of despotism, he was 
 deposed, and transmitted to his offspring 
 (male) exile and seclusion from the throne. 
 He died at St. Germains, in 1701. 
 
 Of his daughters, Mary, married to 
 William of Okange, with whom she 
 reigned jointly ; and Akme, married to 
 George of Denmark, who reigned in 
 her own name, no further notice need be 
 taken than that they died without issue. 
 In 1714, the crown of Great Britain 
 passed to the House of Hanover. 
 
 In 171 1, the Jacobite party in Scotland 
 made no scruple of avowing Iheir attach- 
 ment to the Pretender, and the duchess 
 of Gordon went so far as to cause medals 
 to be struck with the head of the Cheva- 
 lier de St. George on one side, and on the 
 other the British Isles, with the motto 
 " Redilte ;" these she presented to the 
 faculty of advocates, who passed her a 
 vote of thanks for them. J 
 
 Charles James, more known by the 
 name of the Chevalier de St. George, the 
 first Pretender, was the only son of James 
 'I. He might almost be termed a wan- 
 derer, from bis seeking 'a home among 
 various powers on the continent, and 
 being occasionally driven from his asylum, 
 through political motives, whilst striving 
 to interest the court so as to render him 
 assistance in his design of gaining pos- 
 session of the British throne. 
 
 He died at Rome, 1st Jan^ 1766, and 
 left two sons. 
 
 Among the various attempts made by 
 the Stuarts, with the aid of foreign powers, 
 to regain possessioa of their lost domin- 
 ions, in two instances only did they wear 
 any thing like a formidable appearance, 
 those in 1715, and 1745, the latter headed 
 by Charles Edward in person, when so 
 many of the Scotch nobility sealed with 
 
 * Temple, vol. iii. t Hume's Hist. England. 
 ( Smollct's Hist. England. 
 § For a History of these rebellions, see 
 1. Register of the Robellion 1715, and 
 
 Dlood, on the scaffold or in the field, their 
 fealty to him whom they considered as 
 their rightful sovereign, § 
 
 The extraordinary perils and escapes of 
 the prince Charles Edward, when every 
 hope in his cause was crushed, in travers- 
 ing, under various disguises, those realms 
 over which his progenitors had, for up- 
 wards of three centuries, swayed the 
 sceptre, seeking for the opportunity of 
 some friendly sail to waft him in secu- 
 rity to the opposite shore, wear more the 
 appearance of a tale of romance than of 
 reality.-)- To the immortal honor of the 
 Scottish nation, though a great number of 
 persons of all ranks must, necessarily, 
 have been entrusted with the secret, and 
 though the head of the pretender was 
 " worth its weight in gold," there was not 
 to be found one recjcant dastard base 
 enough to betray an unfortunate gentle" 
 man for the sake of lucre. J 
 
 The young prince did at length succeed 
 in quitting the British territories, but it 
 was only to experience fresh vicissitudes, 
 as in a short period afterwards, through the 
 political intrigues of the British court, he 
 was refused an asylum in France. The 
 conduct of Louis XV. towards the prince 
 on this occasion was highly censured, and 
 is thus noticed by Mr. Douglas : — " The 
 fondness of the French for their monarch 
 had been considerably impaired before 
 my arrival in Paris. It was considered 
 as unworthy of a monarch, and an igno- 
 miny to the French nation, to abandon 
 the young pretender, and to exclude him 
 from a retreat in France ; though the suc- 
 cess of the war might have justified the 
 > king in making this one of the conditions 
 of peace, and though it had been pro- 
 mised him expressly ,' by treaty. The 
 manner, also, in which this prince, the 
 great grandson of Henry the Fourth, was 
 treated when he was arrested, by being 
 pinioned like a felon, awakened a strong 
 feeling of -popular displeasure. It was 
 surprising to hear the remarks of the 
 French on this transaction. Paris was in 
 
 1745, 1 vol. 8vo., containing the names, &c., 
 ' of all who suffered in the Stuart cause. 
 
 2. Memoirs of the Rebellion, in 1745-6, by 
 Chevalier de Johnstone, I vol. 8vo. 
 
 t The history of his escape is thought to 
 be pretty faithfully delineated in a Utile work 
 which was published under the title of " As- 
 canius." 
 
 i Thirty thousand pounds were offered for 
 his apprehension. Vide Smollet's History nf 
 England, 
 
toid 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 31. 
 
 1020 
 
 a ferment, sufficient to have produced 
 another affair of the Barricades ; every 
 tongue was loud and every pen satyrical ; 
 epigrams and verses flew about the streets 
 and were posted up in the most public 
 places on the occasion, severely reflecting 
 on the conduct of the court. And, though 
 I did not visit the French capital until 
 seven or eight months after, I found this 
 one of the first topics of conversation, 
 and the praises of Prince Edward in every 
 mouth. Louis the XV. is no longer le 
 bien aime," * 
 
 The campaign of 1745 proved so deci- 
 sive that it terminated the struggle, and 
 the Stuarts retired from the contest. 
 
 " That the present pretender,'' f says 
 Hume, " was in London in the year 1753, 
 I know with the greatest certainty, be- 
 cause I had it from Lord Marechal, who 
 said it consisted with his certain know- 
 ledge. 
 
 " Two or three days after he gave me 
 this information, he told me that the even- 
 ing before he had learned several curious 
 particulars from a lady (who I imagined 
 to be the Lady Primrose, though my lord 
 refused to name her). The pretender 
 came to her house in the evening, without 
 giving her any preparatory information, 
 and entered the room where she had a 
 pretty large company with her, and was 
 herself playing at cards. He was an- 
 nounced by the servant under another 
 name : she thought that the cards would 
 have dropped from her hands on seeing 
 him ; but she had presence of mind 
 enough to call him by the name he 
 assumed, and asked him when he came 
 to England, and how long he intended to 
 stay. 
 
 " After he and all the company went 
 away the servants remarked how wonder- 
 fully like the strange gentleman was to 
 the prince's picture, which hung on the 
 chimney piece in the very room in which 
 he had entered. My lord added (I think 
 from the authority of the same lady) that 
 he used so little precaution that he went 
 abroad openly in the day light in his own 
 dress, only laying aside his blue ribbon 
 and star, walked once through St. James's 
 and took a turn in the Mall. 
 
 " About five years ago I told this story 
 to Lord Holderness, who was Secretary of 
 
 State of 1753, and I added that I sup 
 posed this piece of intelligence had es- 
 caped his lordship at the time. ' By no 
 means,' said he, ' and who do you think 
 first told me ; it was the King himself, 
 who subjoined, and what do you think I 
 should do with him ? Lord Holderness 
 owned that he was puzzled how to reply, 
 for if he declared his real sentiments they 
 might favor of indifference to the royal 
 family. The king perceived his embar- 
 rassment and extricated him from it, by 
 adding, ' My lord, I shall just do nothing 
 at all ; when he is tired of England he 
 will go abroad again,' 
 
 " But, what will surprise you more, 
 lord Marechal, a few days after the 
 coronation of the present king, told rae 
 that he believed the young pretender was 
 at that time in England, or at least had 
 been so very lately, and had been over to 
 see the show of the coronation, and had 
 actually seen it. I asked my lord tlie 
 reason for this strange fact, ' why,' said 
 he, ' a gentleman told me so that saw him 
 there and even spoke to him, and whis- 
 pered in his ear these words, your royal 
 highness is the last of all mortals whom I 
 should expect to see here. It was curi- 
 osity that led me, said the other, but I 
 assure you that the person who is the 
 object of all this pomp and magnificence, 
 is the man I envy least.' You see this 
 story is so near traced from the fountain 
 head as to wear a great face of probability. 
 Query — What if the pretender had taker 
 up Dymock's gauntlet 1 I find that the 
 pretender's visit to England, in 1753, was 
 known to the Jacobites, and some of them 
 assured me that he took the opportunity 
 of formally renouncing the Roman Ca- 
 tholic religion, under his own name of 
 Charles Stuart, in the church in the Strand, 
 and that this is the reason of the bad 
 treatment he met with at the court of 
 Rome. I own that I am a sceptic with 
 regard to the last particular." * 
 
 Charles Edward, or, as he was gene- 
 rally called, Prince Edward, the eldest 
 son of Charles James, died at Rome, 
 31st Jan., 1788, without issue. In the 
 proclamation for his apprehension when 
 heading the forces in Scotland, in 1745, 
 he is called the " Prince Adventurer." + 
 
 * Travels of John Douglas, afterwards 
 Bishop of Salisbury, in the years 1748-9, 
 t Charles Edward. 
 
 * David Hume's letter to Sir John Prin- 
 gle, M. D., dated St. Andrew's-sqnare, Edin- 
 burgh, Feb. 10, 1773. 
 
 t Smollet's Hist, F,ngland, 
 
1021 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 31. 
 
 1032 
 
 After the death of his father, he also went 
 by the name of the " Pretender." 
 
 Genealogical Tree of the House of 
 
 Stuart. 
 
 Walter Stewart, — Marjory Bruce. 
 
 Robert II. 1376. 
 
 Elizabetli Mure of Rowallan, 
 
 John, 1390, 
 
 who changed his name to 
 
 Robert III. 
 
 Annahella Drummond of Stobhall David. 
 
 James I, 1406, 
 
 Johanna of England, niece to Richard II. 
 
 James II. 1437. 
 
 Mary of Gueldres. 
 
 James III. 1460. 
 
 Margaret of Denmark. 
 
 James IV., 1438, 
 
 Margaret of England, daughter to Henry Til. 
 
 James V., 1513 
 
 Mary of Guise. 
 
 Dauphin J MARY. < Henry Steward. 
 
 afterwards ( l Lord Damley. 
 
 Francis li.f Resigned 1.'567, 
 
 no issue. 3 Beheaded 1587. 
 
 James VI. and 1—1567,-1603. 
 
 Anne of Denmark. 
 
 Charles I., 162S, 
 
 Henrietta of France. 
 
 I 
 
 Charles II. Ann Hyde, James II. Mary of 
 
 1648, ^'V^ ' Modeua. 
 
 Resloralim^660. 
 
 Catherine of Portugal. 
 
 No issue. I 
 
 i f 
 
 Mary, 1688 Anne, 1702, 
 
 who reigned with her George of Denmark, 
 husband Died 1714. 
 
 William III. Ko issue. 
 
 No issue. 
 In 1714. the Crown went to the House of 
 Hanover. 
 Charle^ James, 
 the £rst pretender, 
 generally called the 
 Chevalier de St. George 
 married 
 Maria Clementina Sobieski, 
 Died 1765. 
 
 Charles Edward, Henry Benedict, 
 who invaded England Cardinal York, 
 
 in 1745, married died 1807. 
 
 Louisa Htolberg, 
 died 1788. 
 No issue 
 
 Henry Benedict, the second son of 
 Gharles James, as soon as he found the 
 designs of his house rendered abortive 
 
 from tlie signal defeat his brother met 
 with in 1745, devoted himself to the 
 church, and in 1747 received the scarlet 
 hat from Benedict XIV., taking the title of 
 Cardinal York. 
 
 In 1800, being infirm in body, and beg- 
 gared by the change of power in Rome, 
 George III. granted him a pension of 
 £4000 per annum, V^hich became his sole 
 support until 1807, when he died at Rome 
 in his eighty-third year. 
 
 An act with respect to the attainder of 
 blood, it is understood, was to expire at 
 the death of Cardinal York. 
 
 In a letter to Sir Jas. Coxe Hippisley, 
 dated 26lh Feb. 1800, after acknowledg- 
 ing the first half yearly payment of Iiis 
 annuity, the Cardinal thus proceeds : — 
 
 " I own to you that the succor granted 
 to me could not be moretimely, for with- 
 out it it would have been impossible for 
 me to subsist, on account of the irrepar- 
 able loss of all my income, the very funds 
 being also destroyed, so that I should 
 otherwise have been reduced, for the short 
 remainder of my life, to languish in misery 
 and indigence." 
 
 The Cardinal left as a legacy to the 
 Prince of Wales, afterwards George IV., 
 the order constantly worn by Charles 
 I., and a valuable ring, which was worn 
 by the kings of Scotland on the day of 
 tiieir coronation. 
 
 Among the curious memoranda of the 
 Royal House of Stuart, found in the 
 repositories of cardinal York, was a 
 medal, supposed to be unique. On the 
 obverse is the head of Charles Edward 
 with the significant inscription suum 
 cuique, on the reverse is the Scotch thistle 
 with its appropriate motto 7iemo me im- 
 puTie lacesat. This medal is said to have 
 been executed by a French artist, and 
 bears the date of the year 1745.* 
 
 Henry Brandon. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 August 31. Day breaks ..33 
 
 Sun rises . . . 5 12 
 
 — sets ... e 48 
 
 Twilight ends . . 8 57 
 
 Pheasants' eyes in flower. 
 
 Large crimson agaric begins to spring up. 
 
 • In the Every-Daji Booh there is an en- 
 graving of a medal struck by cardinal York, 
 as Henry IX. King of England, with par 
 ticulars concerning him. 
 
1023 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 31, 
 
 ,1-024 
 
 The Owl's Concert and Ball. 
 By a Young Lady.) 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 On a dew-besprinkkd lawn. 
 
 In the summer lime so gay, 
 
 A Blackbird met a Thrush 
 
 At early dawn of day. 
 
 Said he, of course, we meet 
 ' To night at Crumble Tower, 
 
 Where the OWLS receive their company 
 
 Who love a latish hour. 
 
 As every bird of ton 
 
 Is certain to be there, 
 
 I, also, must make one, 
 
 Or all my friends would stare. 
 
 ■ The Throstle said, I well 
 
 With such visit might dispense 
 
 Yet Owls are soonest ruffled. 
 
 So I feai to give offence. 
 
 Kow, as we shall have music. 
 
 They'll ask us both to sing j 
 
 Therefore I must advise you 
 
 Your sweetest airs to bring. 
 
 I'm going home to practise. 
 
 So, Blackbird, dear, good bye ! 
 
 And, if t find I'm not in voice. 
 
 To sing I'll never try. 
 
 As evening was approaching. 
 
 Each bird, both great and small. 
 
 Began to plume its toilette 
 ' In full feather for the ball. 
 
 Lord Owx was so much troubled 
 With that shocking pain, the gout. 
 That, had he wished it ever so, 
 He could not walk about. 
 
 He sat in stately grandeur. 
 On a mouldering mass of stone. 
 Whilst his lady and her daughter 
 Received the guests alone. 
 
 Dr. Goose's well-fed goslins 
 First waddled up the room ; 
 Then, strutting, came lord Peacock, 
 With his showy crest and plume ; 
 
 Squire Pheasant, yeoman Partridge, 
 Miss Lark, so light and airy ; 
 A Bullfinch fam'd for piping. 
 And an elegant Canary ; 
 
 Thrush, Blackbird, Martin, Swallow; 
 
 With a Turkey and Pea ben. 
 
 And also sir Cock Robin, 
 
 With little Jenny Wren. 
 
 Beau Starling never came. 
 
 But sent a civil note. 
 
 In which he said that he was caged. 
 
 And could not then get out. 
 
 The pensive lady Philomel 
 
 Soon join'd the motley throng. 
 
 Four Glow-worms, as torch-bearers. 
 
 Her attendants came among. 
 
 Dame Owl, whose eyes were weak, 
 - I'his splendor dazzled so. 
 That all, with much politeness. 
 
 To another room did go. 
 
 'Twas every bird's endeavour 
 
 To dance, to sing, or say 
 
 Something new and tonnish 
 
 To pass the time away. 
 
 MISS OWL, with much entreating. 
 
 Screamed out a loud bravura. 
 
 So bad her voice, so out of tunc. 
 
 That no one could endure her. 
 
 When the Lark rose up to sing. 
 
 The Owlet walked away. 
 
 Because, she said, it put her so 
 
 In mind of vulgar day. 
 
 Then, from a thorn, sweet Pljiloaiil 
 
 Warbled a plaintive strain 
 
 With such pathetic sweetness 
 
 All begg'd for it again. 
 
 To rouse their drooping spirits. 
 
 Cornet Bullfinch tuned his pipe, 
 
 And dandy Chaffinch waltz'd 
 
 A round with Mrs. Snipe. 
 
 Parson Rook, who 's always hoarse, 
 
 Affected them a song. 
 
 Which, like his drawling homilies. 
 
 Was half an hour too long. 
 
 Two timid, twinlike aemoiscUes, 
 
 Strangers, but not from France, 
 
 A minuet and a pas-de-deux 
 
 Most gracefully did dance. 
 
 Lady Swan, fat, fair, and forty, 
 
 Was known to walk so ill. 
 
 That, like lord Owl, she found it was 
 
 More prudent to sit still. 
 
 And also of her singing 
 She knew she -could not boast, 
 So sat and chatted all the night 
 With her most learned'host. 
 
 Dick Sparrow and Miss Swallow, 
 Birds known to be ill-bred, 
 Twitter'd so long and loudly, 
 That more was heard than saiil. 
 
 And the Pie said to the Jay, 
 Which, you know, was very pert. 
 The room is so ill lighted 
 That I cannot see you fiirt. 
 A Bat announced the supper. 
 And all adjourned soon 
 To a fine old Gothic cloister. 
 Well lighted by the moon. 
 
 And everything was there 
 
 That the daintiest bird could wish ; 
 
 So they pecked about accordingly. 
 
 Each at his favorite dish. 
 
 The' supper was scarce over 
 
 When the Lark proclaim'd the day ; 
 
 Then, nodding, all a kind farewell. 
 
 They flew ti.eir several way. 
 
1025 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBF.i 
 
 10-: 6 
 
 SEPTEMBER. 
 
 Vol. 1.-33. 
 
 Soon as the sun is off the ground, 
 Rumbling like distant thunder round, 
 The waggons haste the corn to load. 
 And hurry down the dusty road ; 
 While driving-boy with eager eye 
 Watcjies the church clock passing by — 
 Whose gilt hands glitter in the sun— 
 T9 see how far the hours have run ; 
 Right happy, in the breathless day, 
 To see time wearing fast away. 
 
 Clare's Shepherd's Calendar, 
 2 L 
 
1027 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER. 
 
 1028 
 
 September IS the month of in-gathering, 
 when the produce of the year is ware- 
 housed for our subsistence while nature 
 reposes during winter, and is awakened in 
 the spring, and while she is doing her 
 summer business, until, in the ensuing 
 autumn, she offers to our use the provision 
 for another year. 
 
 Autumn is aptly termed by Dr. Drake 
 the " Evening of the Year." At this season 
 we may advantageously indulge with 
 these beautiful passages from his " Even- 
 ings in Autumn." He says — 
 
 " Evening, when the busy scenes of 
 our existence are withdrawn, when the 
 sun descending leaves the world to silence, 
 and to the soothing influence of twilight, 
 has been ever a favorite portion of the day 
 with the wise and good of all nations. 
 There appears to be shed over the univer- 
 sal face of nature, at this period, a calm- 
 ness and tranquillity, a peace and sanctity, 
 as it were, which almost insensibly steals 
 into the breast of man, and disposes him 
 to solitude and meditation. He naturally 
 compares the decline of light and anima- 
 tion with that which attaches to the lot of 
 humanity ; and the evening of the day, 
 and the evening of life, become closely 
 assimilated it) his mind. 
 
 " It is an association from which, where 
 vice and guilt have not hardened the 
 heart, the most beneficial result has been 
 ever experienced. It is one which, while 
 it forcibly suggests to us the transient 
 tenure of our being here, teaches us, at 
 the same time, how we may best prepare 
 for that which awaits us hereafter. The 
 sun is descending, but descending, after a 
 course of beneficence and utility, in dig- 
 nity and glory, whilst all around him, as 
 he sinks, breathes one diffusive air of 
 blessedness and repose. It is a scene 
 which marshals us the way we ought to 
 go ; it tells us, that after having passed 
 the fervor and the vigor of our existence, 
 the morning and the noon of our ap- 
 pointed pilgrimage, thus should the even- 
 ing of our days set in, mild yet generous 
 in their close, with every earthly ardor 
 softened or subdued, and with the love- 
 liest hues of heaven just mingling in their 
 farewell light. 
 
 " It is a scene, moreover, which almost 
 instinctively reminds us of another world ; 
 the one we are yet inhabiting is gradually 
 receding from bur view; the shades of 
 night are beginning to gather round our 
 heads ; we feel forsaken and alone, whilst 
 tlie blessed luminary now parting from 
 
 us, and yet burning with such ineffable 
 majesty and beauty, seems about to travel 
 into regions of interminable happiness 
 and splendor. We follow him with a 
 pensive and a wistful eye, and, in the 
 vales of glory which appear to open 
 round his setting beams, we behold man- 
 sions of everlasting peace, seats of ever- 
 during delight. It is then that our 
 thoughts are carried forward to a Being 
 infinitely good and great, the God and 
 Father of us all, who, distant though he 
 seem to be, and immeasurably beyond the 
 power of our faculties to comprehend, we 
 yet know is about our path, and about 
 our bed, and careth for us all ; who has 
 prepared fjr those who love him scenes 
 of unutterable joy, scenes to which, while 
 rejoicing in the brightness of his presence, 
 the effulgence we have faintly attempted 
 to describe shall be but as the glimmer- 
 ing of a distant star." 
 
 Eating in Septeraber-^it may be pre- 
 dicated — will proceed as it August, with 
 some additions, well known to provedi- 
 tors. 
 
 'Vegetable Gauden DiRECTony. 
 Sow 
 
 Lettuce, the hardy sorts, in the first 
 and third week. 
 
 Carrot, to stand the winter. 
 
 Radish, for autumn and winter. 
 
 Small salading, two or three times. 
 
 Onions — the Welsh, or white, to stand 
 the winter ; in first week. 
 Transplant 
 
 York and Battersea spring sown cab- 
 bages, to come in in November. 
 
 Lettuces, leeks, endive, into trenches 
 or warm borders. 
 
 Brocoli, the last, for latest spring supply. 
 
 Celery, once or twice. 
 Earth vp. 
 
 Celery in the trenches, and endive, 
 eitlier in the seed beds or trenches, as the 
 plants attain a full growth. 
 ,. ■ Dig up potatoes, and clear the ground. 
 
 Pull vp onions, and expose them for 
 a few days to the full sun. 
 
 Cut off the stalks of artichokes, and 
 weed between the plants. 
 
 Gather, and Dry, seeds as they ripen. 
 Hoe, rake, weed, and remove 
 
 Every species of-litter; and carry it to 
 the compost heap, or reserve it for burn- 
 ing, to produce ashes for manure. 
 
t029 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 1 
 
 1030 
 
 ^rptemD^r i. 
 
 First Day of Shooting. 
 A correspondent transcribes from his 
 common-place book the following memo- 
 randa : — 
 
 [For the Year Book!] 
 Setters. 
 Wood (Athenaa Oxon.) says, that Ro- 
 bert Dudley, duke of Northumberland, 
 son of the great earl of Northumberland, 
 (temp.Eliz.)was the first person who taught 
 a dog to sit, in order to catch partridges. 
 Dudley must have got the idea from 
 having seen dogs sit, and beg. 
 
 Shooting Flying. 
 
 Pegge (Anonymiana, cent. v. 91) relates 
 that William Tunstall was the first per- 
 son who shot flying in Derbyshire. He 
 was paymaster-general and quarter-master 
 general of the rebel army, and made pri- 
 soner at Preston in 1715. He was taken 
 flying, and narrowly escaped being shot 
 flying. He died in 1728 at Mansfield- 
 wood-house, and was there buried. 
 
 Smollett, in his Sir Launcelot Greaves, 
 mentions it as a wonderful circumstance, 
 
 that (I forget his name) had been 
 
 known to shoot dead a crow that was on 
 the wing ! 
 
 Shooting flying is mentioned in the 
 British Apollo, printed in 1708, i. 534. 
 
 Gent (History of Rippon, 1733) has 
 some really good lines on Shooting flying, 
 with a sparkling sprinkle of alliteration : 
 
 Here, when Arctunis glooms the inverted year. 
 And, stript, the Groves in Nakedness appear; 
 His Bir'ding Piece the wily Fowler takes, 
 And W ar upon the feather'd Nation makes. 
 Whirling the Pheasant mounts and works his 
 
 way. 
 Till Fate flies faster, and commands his stay ; 
 He falls, and, fluttering, pantsaway his Breath, 
 What hoots his Beauty in th' embrace of 
 
 Death I 
 Death spares nor Rank, nor Sex, nor Young, 
 
 nor Qld ; 
 Nor can a Form bribe off his fastening hold 
 See the flush't Woodcock thrill the grovy 
 
 Glades, 
 Till Death arresting his swift flight invades ; 
 The Stock-doves fleet, the strong pounc'd Mal- 
 lards rise. 
 The Charge of Death overtakes them with 
 
 surprise. 
 Nor scapes the Lark that serenades the Sun, 
 The call of Fate commands the Charmer 
 
 down. 
 
 Gent annexes to these lines a print of 
 Fowler or gunner (or, as the Anglo- 
 
 Americans say, a shooter,) shooting-birds 
 on the wing. But what a Fowler I what 
 an attitude I what a Birding-piece ! what a 
 shot! The shot must have made an 
 echellon movement to bring down " that, 
 there," bird ! 
 
 J. M. of M. H. 
 
 BiKDING. 
 
 Archery was most successfully used in 
 bird-killing. The perfection of a sports- 
 man was to strike the bill of the bird onc^ 
 with the arrow, so as not to wound the 
 body. A short thick arrow with a broad 
 flat end, used to kill birds without pierc- 
 ing, by the mere force of the blow, was 
 called a bird-bolt.* 
 
 After the invention of fire arms the 
 first fowling-piece was the " demi-hag," 
 or, " hag but," a corruption of " haque- 
 but," signifying the harquebuse, which is 
 specifically named as used for fowling in 
 1585 ; its barrel was about three quarters 
 of a yard long, and it discharged not only 
 bullets but bail-shot. So early as 1548, 
 a bill was passed to regulate shooting 
 with hand-guns, and hail shot.-J- 
 
 Grouse were usually taken by hawking 
 and netting, until shooting flying was in- 
 troduced, which is said by Mr. Fosbroke 
 to have been in 1725. The comraunipa- 
 tion of J. M. refers to shooting flying, as 
 practised several years earlier. In 1727 
 there was a poem published in octavo, 
 entitled " Ptery-plegia, or the Art of 
 Shooting-flying, by Mr. Markland." 
 
 Genius the uupe of its passioks. 
 
 1 September 1729 Sir Richard Steele 
 died at Llangunner, his seat near Caer- 
 marthen, in Wales. He was born in 
 Dublin either in 1671 or 1675. He is 
 justly celebrated as an essayist in con- 
 junction with Addison, just remembered 
 as having been a dramatist, and almost 
 forgotten as a politician. 
 
 Pope said that Steele, though he led a 
 careless and vicious life, yet had never- 
 theless a love and reverence of virtue. 
 The life of Steele was not that of a re- 
 tired scholar ; hence his moral character 
 becomes more instructive. He was one 
 of those whose hearts are the dupes of 
 their imaginations, and who are hurried 
 through life by the most despotic vo- 
 
 ■* Narcs*s Gloss. 
 Fosbroke s I5ncy. of Antiquities. 
 
 - L 2 
 
1031 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 1. 
 
 1032 
 
 lition. He always preferred his caprices 
 to his interests; or, according to his own 
 notion, very ingenious, but not a little ab- 
 surd, " he was always of tlie humor of 
 preferring the state of his mind to that of 
 his fortune." The result of this principle 
 of moral conduct was, that a man of the 
 most admirable abilities was perpetually 
 acting like a fool, and, with a warm at- 
 tachment to virtue, was the frailest of 
 human beings. 
 
 In the first act of his life we find the 
 seed that developed itself in the succeed- 
 ing ones. His uncle could not endure a 
 hero for his heir; but Steele had seen a 
 marching regiment ; a sufficient reason 
 with him to enlist as a private in the 
 horse-guards : cocking his hat, and put- 
 ting on a broad sword, jack boots, and 
 shoulder belt, with the most generous feel- 
 ings he forfeited a very good estate. — At 
 length ensign Steele's frank temper and 
 wit conciliated esteem, and extorted admi- 
 ration, and the ensign became a favorite 
 leader in all the dissipations of the town. 
 All these were the ebullitions of genius, 
 which had not yet received a legitimate 
 direction. Amidst these orgies, however, 
 it was often pensive, and forming itself; 
 for it was in the height of these irregu- 
 larities that Steele composed his " Chris- 
 tian Hero," a moral and religious treatise, 
 which the contritions of every morning 
 dictated, and to which the disorders of 
 every evening added another penitential 
 page. Perhaps the genius of Steele was 
 never so ardent and so pure as at this 
 period; and in an elegant letter to his 
 commander, the celebrated lord Cutts, 
 he gives an interesting account of the 
 origin of this production, which none but 
 one deeply imbued with its feelings could 
 have experienced. 
 
 " Towr Guard, March 23, 1701. 
 " My Lord, 
 
 ** The address of the following papers is 
 so very much due to your lordship, that they 
 are but a mere report of what has passed 
 npou my guard to my commander ; for they 
 ■were writ upon duty, when the mind was 
 perfectly disengaged,, and at leisure, in the 
 silent watch of the night, to run over the busy 
 drc am of the day ; and the vigilance which 
 obliges us tQ suppose an enemy always near us 
 has awakened a sense that there is a restless 
 and subtle one which constantly attends our 
 ataps, and meditates our ruin.*" 
 
 To this solemn and monitory work he 
 prefixed his name, frcwn this honorable 
 motive, that it might serve as " a standing 
 testimony against himself, and make him 
 ashamed of understanding, and seeming 
 to feel what was virtuous, and living so 
 quite contrary a life. " Do we not think 
 that no one less than a saint is speaking 
 to us ? And yet he is still nothing more 
 than ensign Steele ! He tells us that this 
 grave work made him considered, who 
 had been no undelightful companion, as a 
 disagreeable fellow — and " The Christiai 
 Hero," by his own words, appears to havt 
 fought off several fool-hardy geniuses whc 
 were for "trying their valor on him,'' 
 Thus " The Christian hero, " finding 
 himself slighted by his loose companions, 
 sat down and composed a most laughablf! 
 comedy, " The Funeral ;" and, with all the 
 frankness of a man who cares not to hide 
 his motives, he tells us, that after his reli- 
 gious work he wrote the comedy because 
 " nothing can make the town so fond of a 
 man as a successful play." f The historian 
 who had to record such strange events, 
 following close on each other, of an author 
 publishing a book of piety and a farce, 
 could never have discovered the secret 
 motive of the versatile author ; for what 
 author had ever such honest openness of 
 disposition ? 
 
 Steele was now at once a man of the 
 town and its censor, and wrote lively 
 e^ays on the follies of the day in an enor- 
 mous black peruke which cost him fifty 
 guineas ! He built an elegant villa, but, as 
 he was always inculcating oeconomy, he 
 dates from « The Hovel. " He detected 
 the fallacy of the South-sea scheme, while 
 he himself invented projects neither in- 
 ferior in magnificence nor in misery. He 
 even turned alchemist, and wanted to coin 
 gold, merely to distribute it. The rnost 
 striking incident in the life of this man of 
 volition was his sudden marriage with a 
 young lady who had attended on his first 
 wife's funeral — struck by her angelical 
 beauty, if we trust to his raptures. Yet 
 this sage, who would- have written so well 
 on the choice of a wife, united himself tc 
 a character the most uucongenial to hii 
 own ; cold, reserved, and most anxiousl; 
 prudent in her attention to money, shi 
 
 * Mr. Nichols's " Epi.-ttolary correspon- 
 dence of Sir Kichard SteiK," vol. I p. 77. 
 
 t Steele has given a delightful piece of sell 
 biography, towards the end of his " Apolog 
 for himself and his writings," p. 80, 4to. 
 
1033 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 2. 
 
 1034 
 
 ■was of a temper which every day grew 
 worse by the perpetual imprudence and 
 thoughtlessness of his own. He calls her 
 " Prue," in fondness and reproach ; she 
 was prudery itself! His adoration was 
 permanent, and so were his complaints; 
 and they never parted but with bickerings : 
 — yet he could not suffer her absence, for 
 he was writing to her three or four passion- 
 ate notes in a day, which are dated from 
 his office, or his bookseller's, or from some 
 friend's house — ^he has rose in the midst 
 of dinner to dispatch a line to " Prue, " 
 to assure her of his affection since noon. 
 " Prue" used poor Steele at times very ill ; 
 indeed Steele seems to have conceived 
 that his warm affections were all she re- 
 quired, for lady Steele was usually left 
 whole days in solitude, and frequently in 
 want of a guinea, when Steele could not 
 raise one. He, however, sometimes re- 
 monstrates with her very feelingly. The 
 following note is an instance : 
 
 " Dear Wife, 
 
 " 1 have been in great pain of body and 
 mind since I came out. You are extremely 
 cruel to a generous nature, which has a ten- 
 derness for you that renders your least dishu- 
 mour insupportably afflicting. After short 
 starts of passion, not to be inclined to recon- 
 ciliation, is what is against all rules of Chris- 
 tianity and justice. When I come home, I 
 beg to be kindly received ; or this will have 
 as ill an effect upon my forlime as on my 
 mind and body. " 
 
 In a postscript to another billet, he thus 
 sneers at lady Steele's excessive attention 
 to money. " Your man Sam owes me 
 three pence, which must be deducted in 
 the account between you and me ; there- 
 fore, pray take care to get it in, or stop 
 it." 
 
 Such despatches as the following were 
 sent off three or four times in a day. 
 
 " I beg of you not to be impatient though 
 an hour before you see 
 
 Your obliged husband, 
 
 "R. Steele." 
 " Dear Prue, 
 ** Don't be displeased that I do not come 
 home iill eleven o'clock. Youis ever," 
 
 " Dear Pirue, 
 " Forgive me dining abroad, and let Will 
 carry the papers to Buckley's. 
 
 " Your fond devoted R. S." 
 " Dear Prue, 
 " I am very sleepy and tired, but could not 
 think of closing my eyes till I had told yon, 
 1 am, dearest creature, your most affectionate 
 faithful husband, " R. Steele." 
 
 " From the Press, One in the morning. " 
 
 It would seem by the following note, 
 that this hourly account of himself was in 
 consequence of the connubial mandate 
 of his fair despot. 
 " Dear Prue, 
 
 " It is a strange thing, because you are 
 handsome, that you will not behave yourself 
 with the obedience that people of worst fea- 
 tures do — but that I must be always giving you 
 an account of every trifle and minute of my 
 time. I send this to tell you I am waiting 
 to be sent fur again when my lord Wharton 
 is stirring." 
 
 Yet Steele, gifted at all times with the 
 susceptibility of genius, was exercising 
 the finest feelings of the heart; the same 
 generosity of temper which deluded his 
 judgment, and invigorated his passions, . 
 rendered him a tender and pathetic dra- 
 matist ; a most fertile essayist ; a patriot 
 without private views ; an enemy whose 
 resentment died away in raillery, and a 
 friend who could warmly press the hand 
 that chastised him. Whether in adminis- 
 tration, or expelled the house — ^whether 
 affluent, or flying from his creditors — in 
 the fulness of his heart he perhaps secured 
 his own happiness, and lived on, like 
 some wits, extempore. But such men, 
 with all their virtues and all their genius, 
 live only for themselves ; they are not 
 links in the golden chain of society. 
 Steele, in the waste of his splendid ta- 
 lents, had raised sudden enmities and 
 transient friendships. The world uses 
 such men as eastern travellers do foun- 
 tains ; they drink their waters, and, when 
 their thirst is appeased — turn their backs 
 on them ! Steele lived to be forgotten. 
 He opened his career with folly ; he 
 hurried through it in a tumult of exis- 
 tence; and he closed it by an involuntary 
 exile, amidst the wrecks of his fortuao 
 and his mind.* 
 
 September 1. — Day breaks '. 
 
 h. m, 
 . S 6 
 
 Sun rises . , 
 
 . 5 14 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 6 46 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 8 54 
 
 Game first in season. 
 
 
 Ix>NDON BoRKT, Sept. 2, 1666. V'- 
 ticulars of this memorable devastation 
 are in the Emery-Day Book. In 1831, 
 an inscription charging the conflagration 
 upon the Catholics was erased from the 
 Monument, pursuant to a vote of the 
 court of Common Council of London. 
 
 * Calamities of Authors, ii. 161. 
 
103i 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 3, 4. 
 
 1036 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 September 2.— Day breaks . 
 
 3 9 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 5 16 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 6 44 
 
 Twiliglit ends 
 
 . 8 51 
 
 Golden rod abundant. 
 
 
 ^nstfttiSer 3. 
 
 A.LTERATION OF THE StYIE. 
 
 The commencement of the year in 
 England was formerly on the 25th of 
 March, until the year 1751, when it was 
 deemed necessary to correct our calendar 
 according to the Gregorian computation, 
 which had been long before adopted in 
 other European kingdoms, and by Which 
 the equinoxes and solstices were made to 
 fall nearly on the same nominal days on 
 which they had happened at the council of 
 Nice in the year 325. For this purpose 
 there was passed an act of parliament, 
 directing, — that the year should for the 
 future begin on the 1st of January; and 
 tliat the eleven intermediate or nominal 
 days between the 2d and 14th of Septem- 
 ber, 1752, should for that year be omitted, 
 so that the day which would otherwise 
 have been c.Ued the 3rd of September, 
 snould be dated the 14'.h September, &.c. 
 It pursuance of this act the alteration 
 ook place: the following 1st of January 
 was dated as 1 752, and the eleven days 
 n that year, from the 3rd to the 13th 
 of September inclusive, were omitted. 
 
 h. ID. 
 
 September 3. — Day breaks ..39 
 
 Sun rises . . . 5 17 
 
 — sets ... 6 43 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 49 
 
 Yellow fleabane flowers abundantly. 
 
 4th September, 1733, died, in the Tower 
 of London, the first lioness that visited 
 England. She was very aged, and had 
 annually produced a litter of young ones 
 in the Tower, for several years. The then 
 keeper of the Lion Office in the Tower 
 was a Mr. Martin, who, it is said, had 
 more skill than any former keeper in rear- 
 ing lions' whelps. Mr. Martin was suc- 
 ceeded by John Ellis, Esq., in his office, 
 which, according to tradition, an Earl of 
 Oxford had once filled. This Mr. Martin 
 was related to Sir Joseph Martin, a 
 
 wealthy and eminent Turkey merchant, 
 resident in London, of which city he was 
 a common councilman for the ward of 
 Billingsgate, and a member of the court of 
 lieutenancy. Sir Joseph was a represent- 
 ative in parliament for Hastings in Sussex, 
 in 1712 and 1713 ; and died August 16, 
 1792, at the age of 80. lie used to say, 
 " it was better to be a-'.rioh mechanic, 
 though of the lowest order,' than a poor 
 merchant."* 
 
 Riches. 
 
 -. Many huuted, sweat and bled for gold ; 
 
 Waked all the night, and labored all the 
 
 day.- 
 And what was this allurement dost thou ask 1 
 A dust dug from the bowels of the earthy 
 Which, being cast into the fire, came out 
 A shining thing that fools admired, and called 
 A god ; and in devout and humble plight' 
 Before it.kneeled, the greater to the less ; 
 And on its altar sacrificed ease, peace. 
 Truth, faith, integrity, good conscience, 
 
 friends. 
 Love, charity, benevolence, and all 
 The sweet and tender sympathies of life j 
 And, to complete the horrid, murderous rite, 
 And signalize their folly, offered up 
 Their souls and an eternity of bliss, 
 To gain them — what ? an hour of dreaming 
 
 joy. 
 A feverish hour that hasted to be done. 
 And ended in the bitterness of woe. 
 
 Polloli. 
 
 ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. 
 From the commencement of summer to 
 the end of autumn, the noble assemblage 
 of animals in the Regent's Park may be 
 seen in perfection. A day can scarcely 
 be spent to more advantage than at this 
 exhibition ; and certainly one of the 
 most delightful holiday enjoyments that 
 can be afforded to young persons is a visit 
 to the " Zoological Gardens." The first 
 attraction to them, on entering, is the sight 
 of the bears lumbering up and down 
 their pole ; and, then, the colossal cage of 
 beautiful parroquites : after passing these 
 there are almost countless birds, from the 
 songsters of our native groves to the ma- 
 jestic eagles of distant regions; and 
 beasts, from the mouse and domestic cat 
 to the elephant and the lions of the 
 desert. They are variously disposed 
 about the grounds : many of them range 
 upon green lawns, and all are within safe 
 enclosures. 
 
 * Noble. 
 
1037 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-^SEPTEMBER 4 
 
 1038 
 
 The Zoological Society's Quadrupeds 
 AND Birds. 
 
 There is a delightful work entitled 
 " The Gardens and Menagerie of the 
 Zoological Society delineated." This 
 book is published " with the sanction of 
 the Council, under thesuperintendence of 
 the Secretary, and Vice Secretary of the 
 Society." It is filled with exquisite engrav- 
 ings on- wood, by Messrs. Branston and 
 Wright, from highly finished drawings 
 executed by Mr. Harvey, with the living 
 originals in the gardens before him. To 
 his portraits of the quadrupeds and birds 
 he has added delightful views, principally 
 of picturesque scenery in the grounds. 
 The number and beauty of the engravings, 
 tfie elegance of the printing, and the ex- 
 ceedingly moderate price, occasion this to 
 be one of the most enchanting books that a 
 lover of nature and art can desire. 
 ) ■ Persons of taste, not having the fear of 
 the Zoological Society before their eyes, 
 imercilessly covet the rich embellishments 
 ^f^'The Gardens and Menagerie" for their 
 ornamented albums. Indeed, this woik, 
 which is in two handsome octavo volumes, 
 with above two hundred and twenty de- 
 licious engravings, and which may be had 
 for four-and-twenty shillings, by merely 
 ordering it of any bookseller in the king- 
 dom, is irresistible ; and, — read it, readers, 
 and4rerable — many a copy has already 
 fallen under the scissars of scrap-book 
 makers. 
 
 Place these volumes before a fair 
 " collector of prints," — with flashing eyes 
 she 
 
 ** spreads the glittering forfex -wide,*' 
 and, in a moment, the " Esquimaux dogs'' 
 and " Maccaws," and other desirable 
 creatiires, are fluttered away from the 
 "superintendence of the society's secre- 
 tary, and vice secretary," and find them- 
 selves — without " the sanction of the 
 council" — within the lady's covers. 
 
 The masterly engravings, with the 
 fine printing of this work, which is so 
 enticing, and which is afforded at so low a 
 price, obviously cost several thousand 
 poimds. Since Bewick's Quadrupeds and 
 Birds, there have not been any illustrated 
 books of natural history that approach in 
 merit to these two volumes of " The Gar- 
 dens and Menagerie of the Zoological 
 Society.'" They are printed by Whitting- 
 ham, and continue to uphold the un- 
 surpassed fame of the Chiswick Press. 
 
 The Lark. 
 
 From the " Faradis d' Amour.' 
 
 The livelong night, as was my wonted lot. 
 In tears had pass'd, nor yet day's orb was hot. 
 When forth I walk'd my sorrows to beguile, "" 
 Where freshly smelling fields with dewdrops 
 smile. ' 
 
 Already with his shrilling carol gay 
 The vaulting skylark hail'd the sun from far ; 
 And with so sweet a miisic seem'd to play 
 My heart strings round, as some- propitious 
 
 star 
 Had chased whate'er might fullest joyaunce 
 
 mar : 
 Bath'd in delicious dews that morning bright. 
 Thus strove my voice to speak my soul's de- 
 light :— 
 
 Hark ! hark '. 
 Thou merry lark ! 
 Reckless thou how 1 may pine ; 
 Would but love my vows befriend. 
 To my warm embraces send 
 That sweet fair one. 
 Brightest, dear one, 
 Then my joy might equal thine. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! 
 
 Thou merry lark ! 
 Reckless thou how I may pine j 
 Let love, tyrant, work his will. 
 Plunging me in anguish still : 
 
 Whatsoe'er 
 
 May be my care. 
 True shall bide this heart of mine. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! 
 
 Thou merry lark ! 
 Reckless thou what griefs are mine j 
 Come, relieve my heart's distress. 
 Though in truth the pain is less. 
 
 That she frown. 
 
 Than if unknown 
 She for whom I ceaseless pine. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! 
 
 Thou merry lark 1 
 Reckless thou how I may pine.. 
 
 September 4. — Day breads . . 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 Chequered meadow -saflron 
 
 abundantly. 
 
 Red surmullets caught on the coast. 
 
 h. m. 
 3 14 
 
 5 19 
 
 6 41 
 8 46 
 flowers 
 
lorj? 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK —SEPTEMBER 4 
 
 1040 
 
 SAWSTON HALL, CAMBRIDGESHIRE. 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 During a visit to Sawston, I was in- 
 vited to look over " the Great House, " 
 and its antiquity excited my curiosity to 
 collect a fevf observations concerning it 
 for the Year 'Book, which I send you with 
 the accompanying N. E. sketch of the 
 building. 
 
 " The Hall" stands detached from the vil- 
 lage, south of the church, surrounded with 
 trees and a spacious garden and lawn ; 
 it is a large quadrangular building, and 
 was erected in the year 1557, upon the 
 site of a former edifice. In the rooms 
 are the portraits of Sir John Huddleston 
 the protector of" queen Mary, and se- 
 veral more of the Huddleston family. " Sir 
 John Huddleston entertained the princess 
 Mary at his house immediately after the 
 death of her brother king Edward VI., 
 and contrived her escape to Framlingham 
 castle in Suffolk, for which his house was 
 plundered by the mob, who took part with 
 lady Jane Gray. 
 
 Fuller, in his "History of Cambridge, " 
 says, " The lady Mary, after her brother's 
 death, hearing queon Jane was proclaim- 
 
 ed, came five miles off to Sir John Hud- 
 dleston's, where she heard masse ; next 
 day Sir John waited on her in Suffolk, 
 though she for the more secrecy rode on 
 horse-back behind his servant, which 
 servant lived long after, the queen never 
 bestowing any preferment upon, him, 
 whether because forgetting him (when me- 
 mory was engaged on greater matters) or 
 because she conceived the man was re- 
 warded in rewarding bis master. Indeed 
 she bestowed great boons on Sir John, 
 and, among the rest, the stones of Cam- 
 bridge castle, to build his house at Salston. 
 Hereby that stately structure, anciently 
 the ornament of Cambridge, is at this day 
 reduced next to nothing;" 
 
 The following information I obtained . 
 from the present highly esteemed possessor 
 of Sawston Hall.—" Sir John Huddle- 
 ston was of the queen's, privy counsel, 
 and captain of the guard to king Philip. 
 He was entrusted by the queen with a 
 jurisdiction over part of Cambridgeshire 
 and Hertfordshire: she likewise granted 
 him Wilbraham Temple. The Rev. Mr. 
 Hicks, the present possessor cf Wilbra 
 
1041 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER ."i. 
 
 1042 
 
 liam, lias the original deed of the Grant. 
 Father John Huddleston, a Benedictine 
 Monk of Lampspring in Germany, was 
 Chaplain in the family of Mr. Whitgrave 
 of Moseley in the county of Stafford, — 
 who was a principal contriver of king 
 Charles's escape from the battle of Wor- 
 cester." My informant says — "The fa- 
 mily of Huddleston is supposed to be 
 Saxon, and to trace _^ue generations before 
 the Conguest. The mo.'t ancient residence 
 was Huddleston in Yorkshire, from which 
 place comes the name. — Nine brothers 
 of the Huddleston family ar% said to have 
 lost their lives in fighting for king 
 Charles. " Respecting the commotion, I 
 derive fi-om the same source that "The 
 council took the part of lady Jane. The 
 duke of Northumberland was their ge- 
 neral ; he had his troops at Cambridge, 
 and the council promised to stand by him, 
 but upon finding the lady Mary had 
 gone from New liall, a palace of Henry 
 VIII. in Essex, by Copt Hall and Saws- 
 ton to Eramlingham castle in Suffolk, 
 had been joined by the Suffolk men, and 
 had claimed the crown, they deserted him ; 
 i. e/would not acknowledge he had acted 
 under their authority. He therefore, 
 though he threw up his cap in the market 
 place and proclaimed the queen, was be- 
 headed ; none of the Tudors being much 
 given to mercy." 
 
 It is a singular proof of the tenacity 
 with which the unlettered preserve oral 
 information that, st this day, the village 
 dames teU how the queen escaped the fury 
 of the mob, by quitting " the Ilall," in the 
 disguise of a milk-maid, with a pail on 
 her arm. Tliey say she had got a short 
 distance from the village, when her con- 
 ductor requested her to look back and see 
 how her enemies had served Sawston-hall ; 
 the lady Mary turned her eyes and saw it in 
 flames ; she immediately promised that, 
 if ever she was made queen of England, 
 Sawston Hall should be rebuilt of stone, 
 and by that means defy the fury of the 
 lawless element. Traditional report, how- 
 ever seemingly vague and desidtory, has 
 a connexion with fact. — The village now 
 presents 
 
 The joys of liberty and smiling Peace . 
 
 No doubt further interesting particulars 
 of tills momentous era are capable of 
 being added, and your attenlioii and that 
 of yoiir numerous literary friends is re- 
 spectfully solicited to llie subject. 
 
 Cumbriilge. T. N. 
 
 A Lady's Song. 
 
 The wise man sees his winter close 
 
 Like evening on a summer day ; 
 Each age, he knows, its roses bears. 
 
 Its mournful moments and its gay. 
 
 Thus would I dwell with pleasing thought 
 
 Upon my spring of youthful pride j 
 Yet, like iLe festive dancer, glad 
 
 To rest in peace at eventide. 
 The gazing crowds proclaimed me fair. 
 
 Ere, autumn-touch'd, my green leaves fell : 
 And now they smile and call me good — 
 
 Perhaps 1 like that name as well. 
 
 On beauty bliss depends not ; then 
 Why should I quarrel with old time 1 
 
 He marches on ; how vain his power 
 With one whose heart is in its prime ! 
 
 Though now perhaps a little old. 
 Yet still I love with youth to bide ; 
 
 Nor grieve I if the gay coquettes 
 Seduce the gallants from my side. 
 
 And I can joy to see the nymphs 
 
 For favorite swains their chaplets t^^ ine. 
 
 In gardens trim, and bowers so green. 
 With flowerets sweet, and eglantine. 
 
 I love to see a pair defy 
 
 The noontide heal in yonder shade ; 
 To hear the village song of love 
 
 Sweet echoing through the woodland glade. 
 
 I joy too (though the idle crew 
 
 Mock somewhat at my lengthen'd tale,) 
 
 To sec how lays of ancient loves 
 The listening circle round regale. 
 
 They fancy time for then stands still. 
 
 And pity ine my hairs of gray. 
 And smile to hear how once thcr sires 
 
 To me could kneeling homage pay. 
 
 And 1, too, smile, to gaze upon 
 These butterflies in youth elate. 
 
 So heedless, sporting round the flame 
 
 Where thousand such have met their fate. 
 Cotntesse Barbe de Verrue, 
 
 Sitvtetnfitv 5. 
 
 5lh September, 1569, died Edmund 
 Bonner. He was bisliop of London in 
 the leign of Henry VIII., but in 1549 
 was deposed by king Edward VI. and 
 committed to the Marshalsea, whence he 
 was released in I55'.>, and restored to the 
 see by queen Mary, during whose reign 
 iie exercised the office of an eccleisiaslical 
 judgp, rondemned two hundred persons 
 to the tlanips for their relision, ard caused 
 great numbers of others to suffer impri- 
 son.Tent. In his violent proceedings 
 
1043 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 6. 
 
 1044 
 
 against Richard Gibson, a gentleman, 
 who, being surety for a debt, was im- 
 prisoned in the Poultry Compter, Bonner 
 required him to confess or deny whether, 
 if at liberty, he would go " in procession" 
 with others to his parish church upon 
 appointed days, " bear a taper or a candle 
 upon Candlemas-day, take ashes upon 
 Ash Wednesday, bear palm upon Palm- 
 Sunday, creep to the Cross upon days and 
 and times accustomed, receive and kiss 
 the pax, &c." Bonner pronounced the 
 fatal sentence against him, and " he 
 valiantly underwent the cruel death of 
 burning in Smithfield." About the same 
 time. Cardinal Pole, as legate, interposed 
 between Bonner and two-and-twenty Col- 
 chester people, and saved their lives. 
 Bonner wrote to the Cardinal, ^' that he 
 thought to have had them all to Fulham, 
 and to have given sentence against them." 
 He whipped some of the victims of his 
 judicial character with his own hands. 
 In Fox's " Acts and Monuments" there 
 is a woodrcut of his Inflicting this pun- 
 ishment on Thomas Henshawe. When 
 the print was shown to Bonner, he laughed • 
 at it, saying, " A vengeance on the fool, 
 how could he get my picture drawn so 
 right?" He was commonly called "Bloody 
 Bonner." On the accession of queen 
 Elizabeth, this cruel man was finally dis- 
 missed from the bishopric of London, 
 and again committed to the Marshalsea. 
 He died in that prison, and was buried in 
 St. George's church-yard in the borough.* 
 The following epigram" was found at- 
 tached to his monument : — 
 Tf Heaven be pleased when sinners cease to 
 
 sin. 
 If Hell be pleased when sinners enter in. 
 If Earth be pleased when it hath lost a knave, 
 Then all are pleased ! for Bonner's in his 
 
 grave. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 September 5. — Day breaks . , 3 17 
 
 Sun rises . . 5 21 
 
 — sets ... 6 39 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 43 
 
 Bladder catchily flowers the second time. 
 
 Gth September, 1783, died in her 
 seventy-eighth year, at the house of Dr. 
 Samuel Johnson, in Bolt-court, Fleet- 
 
 • Strype, Granger. 
 
 street, where she had lived by his bounty 
 nearly twenty years, Mrs. Anna Williams, 
 who had long been deprived of her sight. 
 She published, in 1745, the "Life of 
 Julian," from the French of M. de la 
 Bleterie. In 1766, she published a volume 
 of " Miscellanies in Prose and Verse," 
 4(0. Dr. Johnson wrote several of the 
 pieces contained in the volume.' She 
 was the daughter of Zachariah Williams, 
 who published . a pamphlet printed in 
 English and Italian, intitled, " An Ac- 
 count of an Attempt to ascertain the 
 Longitude at Sea, by an exact Theory of 
 the Variatiort of the Magnetical Needle. 
 With a table of Variations at the most 
 memorable Cities in Europe, from the 
 year 1660 to 1680," 1755, 4to. The 
 English part of this work was written by 
 Dr. Johnson, the Italian by Mr. Baretti. 
 In Boswell's life of Johnson tliere are 
 interesting memorials of Johnson's kind- 
 ness to Mrs. Williams, and her grateful 
 attachment to him. 
 
 Dr. Johnson's Man, " Frank." 
 
 Francis Stewart was the son of a shop- 
 keeper in Edinburgh. He was brought 
 up to the law, and for several years em- 
 ployed as a writer in some of the princi- 
 pal offices of Edinburgh. Being a man 
 of good natural parts, and given to liter- 
 ature, he- frequently assisted in digesting 
 and arranging MSS. for the press ; and, 
 among other employments of this sort, 
 he used to boast of as'sisting, or copying 
 some of the juvenile productions of the 
 afterwards celebrated Lord Kaimes, when 
 he was very young, and a correspondent 
 with the Edinburgh Magazine. When 
 he came to London he stuck more closely 
 to the press ; and, in this walk of copying, 
 or arranging for the press, he got recom- 
 mended to Dr. Johnson, who then lived 
 in Gough-square. Frank was a great 
 admirer of the doctor, and upon all occa- 
 sions consulted him ; and the doctor had 
 also a very respectable opinion of his 
 amanuensis, Frank Stuart, as he always 
 familiarly called him. But it was not 
 only in collecting authorities that " Frank" 
 was employed; he was the man who did 
 every thing in the writing way for him, 
 and rnanaged all affairs between the doc- 
 tor, his bookseller, and his creditors, who 
 were then often very troublesome, besides 
 every species of business the doctor had 
 to do out of doors. For this he was much 
 belter qualified than the doctor himself, 
 
1045 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 6, 
 
 1046 
 
 as he had been more accustomed to com- 
 mon busine.ss, and more conversant in 
 the " ways of men." 
 
 In another department, besides collecting 
 authorities, Frank was remarkably useful to 
 Dr. Johnson ; this was, in explanation of 
 low Cjint phrases, which the doctor used 
 to getFrank to give his explanation of first. 
 All words relating to gambling and card- 
 play'ng, such as All-fours, Catch-honors, 
 Cribbage, SfC, were, among the " typos," 
 said to be Frank's, corrected by the 
 doctor, for which he received a second 
 Dayment. At the time this happened 
 Johnson's Dictionary vtas going on print- 
 ing very briskly in three departments, 
 letter D, G, and L, being at work upon 
 at the same time; and the doctor was, 
 in the printing-house phrase, " out of 
 town," that is, had received more money 
 than he had produced MS. ; for the pro- 
 prietors restricted him in his payments, 
 and would answer no more demands from 
 him than at the rate of a guinea for every 
 sheet of MS. copy he delivered, which 
 was paid him by Mr. Strahan on delivery; 
 and the doctor readily agreed to this. 
 The -copy was written upon quarto post 
 paper, and in two columns each page. 
 The doctor wrote, in his own hand, the 
 words and their explanation, and gene- 
 rally two or three words in each column, 
 leaving a space between each for the au- 
 thorities, which were pasted on as they 
 were collected by the different clerks or 
 amanuenses employed. In this mode the 
 MS. was so regular, that the sheets of 
 MS. which made a sheet of print could 
 be very exactly ascertained. Every 
 guinea" parcel came after this agreement 
 regularly tied up, and was put upon a 
 shelf in the corrector's room till wanted. 
 The MS. being then in great forwardness, 
 the doctor supplied copy faster than the 
 printers called for it ; and in one of the 
 heaps of copy it happened that, upon 
 giving it out to tlie compositors, some 
 sheets of the old MS. that had been 
 printed off were found among the new 
 MS. paid for. This led to a charge against 
 the doctor of having obtained double 
 payment for the same MS. copy. As 
 the MS. was then in such a ready and 
 forward slate, it is but justice to the 
 doctor's character to say, that he does 
 not appear to have been driven to his 
 shifts so much as to make use of this 
 ibabby trick to get three or- four guineas, 
 for the sum amounted to no more. It is 
 probable that it happened by the doctor's 
 
 keeping the old copy, which' was always 
 retuined to him with the proof, in a dis- 
 orderly manner. Besides this there was 
 another mode of accounting for it, which, 
 at that time, was very current in the 
 printing-house. In addition to his old 
 and constant assistant, Stuart, the Doctor 
 had several others, some of them not of 
 the best characters ; one of this class had 
 been lately discharged, whom the doctor 
 had been very kind to, notwithstanding all 
 his loose and idle tricks ; and it was ge- 
 nerally supposed that the rogue had fallen 
 upon the expedient of picking up the old 
 MS. to raise a few guineas,, finding the 
 money so readily paid on the MS. as he 
 delivered it. Upon the -^hole, every body 
 was inclined to acquit the doctor, as he 
 had been well known to have rather " too 
 little thought about money matters." 
 What served to complete the doctor's 
 acquittal was, that, immediately on the 
 discovery, Frank supplied the quantum 
 of right copy (for it was ready) ; which 
 set every thing to rights, and that in the 
 course of an hour or two. 
 
 Frank usually " spent his evenings" at 
 the Bible, in Shire Lane, a house of call 
 for bookbinders and printers ; where he 
 was in good esteem among some credit- 
 able neighbours that frequented the back- 
 room. Except his fuddling, he was a 
 vjery worthy character ; yet his drinking 
 and conviviality, he used to say, he left 
 behind him at Edinburgh, where his in- 
 timacy with some jovial wits and great 
 card-players made his journey to London 
 very prudent and necessary, as nothing 
 but s.tich a. measure could break oil the 
 connexion. Before Frank determined on 
 quitting Edinburgh, he took some pains 
 to bring his companions to order and 
 good hours ; and one of his efforts in this 
 way was his writing a song of four versesj 
 to the famous old tune of " Woe's my 
 heart that we should sunder ;" every verse 
 concluded with a chorus line, " Let's leave 
 lang-jinks but never sunder."* 
 
 In one of his Edinburgh night ram- 
 bles, Frank and his companions met with 
 the mob -procession when they were con- 
 ducting Captain Porteus to be hanged ; 
 and Frank and hi^ companions were next 
 day examined about it before the town- 
 council, when, as he used to say, " we were 
 found to be too drunk to have had any hand 
 
 * Lang -jinks is the name for -lansquenet in 
 Scotland among gamesters. 
 
1047 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 7. 
 
 104? 
 
 in the business,'' He gave an accurate and 
 particular account of that memorable trans- 
 action in the Edinburgh Magazine of that 
 time, which he was rather fond of re- 
 lating. 
 
 b. m. 
 September 6. — Day breaks . , 3 19 
 Sun rises ... 5 23 
 — sets ... 6 37 
 Twilight ends . 8 41 
 Large purple starwort flowers. 
 Currants nearly gone, unless preserved 
 under nets on walls, or under mats over 
 standard trees. 
 
 Rimahkable Advebtisements. 
 [To Mr. Hone] 
 
 Edinburgh, June 1831. 
 7 September 1820 is the date of the 
 following advertisement in the " Edin- 
 burgh Evening Courant" of the 9th of 
 that month : — 
 
 " NOTICE. 
 
 " The LAirtTEKS of Edinburgh and its 
 vicinity are respectfully informed, that a 
 FESTiVALwill be celebrated by the beady- 
 
 TO-HALT-FBATERNITY, at M'LeaN's Hotel, 
 
 Prince's-street, on Thursday the 14th day 
 of September inst, 
 " Dinner on the table at Five o'clock. 
 " All such Cripples and Lamiters as 
 wish to consociate and dine together will 
 give in their names at the Hotel, before the 
 14th inst. 
 
 " No procession. 
 
 "W. T, Secretary, 
 
 Concerning the advertisement of " the 
 Lamiters " I have made several enquiries, 
 the result of which show that it was a 
 mere quiz on the public. 
 
 The following, equally curious, and of 
 more value perhaps to your erudite Mis- 
 cellany, is copied from "Parker's Lon- 
 don News, or the Impartial Intelligencer, 
 containing the most remarkable occur- 
 rences Foreign and Domestic, 18th Jan- 
 uary 1722 "— 
 
 "WHEREAS Geht'lemen and Gen- 
 tlewomen, in walking the streets in dirty 
 slabby weather, very frequently incom- 
 mode their stockings and petticoats by 
 the filth and nastiness thereof. There is 
 a person who gives daily attendance from 
 9 to 3 in the afternoon, at the Hercules 
 in Nags-head-court in Bartholomew lant, 
 
 behind the Royal Exchange, to instruct 
 how all persons may walk the streets 
 v/ithout dirting themselves in the worst 
 or dirtiest weather." 
 
 The " Post Boy " from Thursday May 
 16 to Saturday May 18, 1723, in narrating 
 the execution of counsellor Layer for 
 High Treason, says " his head was carried 
 to Newgate, in order to be parboiled and 
 affixed upon Temple-bar this day." — Alas, 
 what Cookery/ 
 
 I am, &c., 
 
 L 
 
 BiBMINGHAM TRAVELLING — 1742. 
 
 [Advertisement from Walker's Birmingham 
 paper, Monday April 12th 1742. No 26.] 
 
 The Litchfield and Bibminguau 
 Staoe-Coach set out this morning [Mon- 
 day] from the Rose Inn at HolDourn 
 bridge, London, and will be at the house 
 of Mr.Francis Cox, the Angel and Hen and 
 Chickens, iu the high town, Birmingham, 
 on Wednesdaynext to dinner, and goes the 
 same afternoon to Litchfield, and returns 
 to Birmingham on Thursday morning to 
 breakfast, and gets to London on Satur- 
 day night, and so will continue every 
 week regularly, with a good coach and 
 able horses. 
 
 A Noted Surgeon. 
 
 [From a Lancashire paper, about the year 
 1778.] 
 
 Ellen Haythorhthwaite, the wife 
 of Robert Haythornthwaite, of Dicklin 
 green, near Whitewell, in the forest of 
 Bowland, Lancashire, is supposed to be 
 one of the best Surgeons in the country ; 
 she has performed several amazing cures, 
 given up for incurable by the Whitworth 
 doctors, and others. 
 
 As for Asthmas, Coughs, Fevers, and 
 all internal disorders, she will not prescribe 
 a large quantity of drugs, and yet effect- 
 ually cure, if curable ; but as for burns, 
 scalds, fractured skulls, bruises, and all 
 external wounds, she will in a very 
 little time make a perfect cure, if they 
 come to her before they are mortified. 
 
 N. B. She will take nothing in hand if 
 she finds it incurable. 
 
 Her charges are also very moderate, 
 twelve pence a week, if they come to her. 
 She travels none abroad. 
 
 The following can testify of her excel- 
 lent remedies, with many others too te- 
 dious to mention. 
 
104} 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 8. 
 
 1050 
 
 John Langton, a lame band. 
 
 James Dewhurst, ditto. 
 
 James Parker, a fractured skull : his 
 brain was bare. 
 
 Christopher Martin, lame leg. 
 
 Robert Parkinson, ditto. 
 
 William Livesey, ditto. 
 
 Richard Knowles, a lame arm, two 
 years standing. 
 
 have their wedding dinner in the gardens, 
 may be married in the said chapel with- 
 out giving any fee or reward whatsoever : 
 and such as do not keep their wedding 
 dinner at the gardens, only five shillings 
 will be demanded of them for all fees." 
 
 Many similar advertisements in old 
 newspapers show the facilities formerly 
 afforded to private marriages. 
 
 H. B. Ahdbews. 
 
 NOTir.E TO THE PROFESSION. 
 [From a new Jersey Paper, 1821.] 
 
 To BE SOLD, on the 8th of July, one 
 hundred and thirty-one suits at law, the 
 property of an eminent attorney about to 
 retire from business. Note, the clients 
 are rich and obstinate. 
 
 [Note. Whether this is serious or sa- 
 tirical I know not.] 
 
 h. m. 
 
 September 7. — Day breaks . . 3 22 
 
 Sun rises ... 5 25 
 
 — sets ... 6 35 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 38 
 
 Green gage plums in great plenty. 
 
 Peaches and nectarines abundant. 
 
 S>evtttnfitv 8. 
 
 Pkivate markiages. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Jnly 1831. 
 
 The parsons of the old Fleet, and of 
 May fair, were noted for their celebration 
 of private marriages; and it appears 
 that the village of Hampstead was not 
 less remarkable for conveniences of that 
 kind to couples who wished to increase 
 their happiness by a little air and exercise. 
 
 About the beginning of the last cen- 
 tury there stood, near the Wells, a place 
 called Sron chapel, which seems to have 
 been the property of the keeper of the 
 adjoining tavern, by the following adver- 
 tisement from a newspaper of 1716 : it 
 will be seen what temptations were held 
 out to such parties as should keep their 
 wedding dinner in his gardens. 
 
 " 8th September 1716. — Sion Chapel 
 AT Hampstead, being a> private and 
 pleasure place, many persons of the best 
 fashion have lately been married there. 
 Now, as a minister is obliged constantly 
 o attend, this is to give notice, that all 
 persons bringing a licence, and who shall 
 
 Betrothing Customs. 
 Hand-fasting. 
 
 In 1794 the minister of Eskdalemiiir, 
 in the county of Dumfries, mentions an 
 annual fair held time out of mind at the 
 meeting of the Black and While Esks, 
 now entirely laid aside. At that fair it 
 was the custom for unmarried persons of 
 both sexes to choose a companion, ac- 
 cording to their liking, with whom they 
 were to live till that time next year. This 
 was called " hand-fasting," or hand in 
 fist. If they were pleased with each 
 other at that time, then they continued 
 together for life : if not, they separated, 
 and were free to make another choice as 
 at the first. The fruit of the connexion, 
 if there were any, was always attached to 
 the disaffected person. In later times, 
 when this part of the country belonged to 
 the Abbacy of Melrose, a priest, to whom 
 they gave the name of " Book i'bosom," 
 either because he carried in his bosom a 
 Bible, or perhaps a register of the mar- 
 riages, came from time to time to confirm 
 the marriages. 
 
 In 1*16 Isle of Portland, near Wey- 
 mouth, where the inhabitants seldom or 
 never intermarry with any on the main- 
 land, young women betroth themselves 
 to lovers of the same place, and allow 
 them the privileges of husbands, with the 
 cert^tinty of being made wives the mo- 
 ment that the-consequences of their inti- 
 macy become apparent. 
 
 [This usage I ascertained, upon the 
 spot, to prevail in 1817, and was assured, 
 by respectable married females of the 
 place, that only one instance of the en- 
 gagement not being fulfilled by a young 
 man had occurred within their memory, 
 and in that case the offender was driven 
 by the inhabitants with ignominy from 
 the island. W. H.j 
 
 Breaking a Piece of Money. 
 It was anciently customary to break a 
 piece of gold or silver in token of a verbal 
 
1051 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER B. 
 
 1052 
 
 contract of marriage and promises of 
 love ; one half whereof was kept by tlie 
 woman, while the other part remained 
 with the man. The Dialogue between* 
 Kitty and Filbert in the " What d'ye call 
 it," by Gay, illustrates the usage : — 
 
 Yet, Justices, permit us, ere we part. 
 To break this Ninepence as you've broke our 
 heart." 
 
 Filbert (breaking the ninepence) — .4s this 
 divides, thus are we torn in twain. 
 
 Kitti/ (joining the pieces) — .4nd, as this 
 meets^ thus may we meet again^ 
 
 In " The Country Wake," a comedy 
 by Dogget, 4to., London, 1696, Act v. 
 sc. i.. Hob, who fancies he is dying, be- 
 fore he makes his last will and teslimimi/, 
 as he calls it, when his mother desires 
 him to try to speak to Mary, " for she is 
 thy wife, and no other," answers, " I know 
 I'm sure to her — and I do own it before 
 you all ; I ask't her the question last 
 Lammas, and at AUhallow's-tide we broke 
 apiece of money ; and if I had lived till 
 last Sunday we had been ask'd in the 
 church." Mr. Donee's MS. Notes say : 
 " Analogous to the interchangement of 
 rings seems the custom of breaking a 
 piece of money. An example of this oc- 
 curs in ' Bateman's Tragedy,' a well- 
 known penny history, chap, v." A law 
 book, " Swinburne on Spousals," p. 10, 
 says: "Some spousals are contracted by 
 signs, as the, giving and receiving a rin?, 
 others by words." 
 
 It appears to have been formerly a cus- 
 tom, also, for those who were betrothed to 
 wea.' some flower as an external and con- 
 spicuous mark of their mutual engage- 
 ment. Spenser, in hi." ' Shepherd's Ca- 
 lendar," says, 
 
 *' Bring coronations and sops in wine 
 Worn of paramours." 
 
 Sops in wine were a species of flowers 
 among the smaller kind of single gilli- 
 flowers or pinks.* 
 
 Creeling. 
 
 In 1792 the minister of Galston, in 
 Ayrshire, mentions a singular custom 
 there: "When a young man wishes to 
 pay his addresses to his sweetheart, in- 
 stead of going to her father's, and profess- 
 ing his passion, he goes to a public-house, 
 
 and, having let the landlady into the 
 secret of his attachment, the object of his 
 wishes is immediately sent for, who sel- 
 dom refuses to come. She is entertained 
 with ale and whisky, or brandy ; and the 
 marriage is concluded on. The second 
 day after the marriage a " creeling," as it 
 is called, takes place. The young wedded 
 pair, with their friends, assemble in a 
 convenient spot. A small creel, or basket, 
 is prepared for the occasion, into which 
 they put some stones : the young men 
 carry it alternately, and allow themselves 
 to be caught by the maidens, who have a 
 kiss when they succeed. After a great 
 deal of innocent mirth and pleasantry, 
 the creel falls at length to the young hus- 
 band's share, who is obliged to carry it 
 generally for a long time, none of the 
 young women having compassion upon 
 him. At last his fair mate kindly re- 
 lieves him from bis burden ; and her com- 
 plaisance, in this particular, is considered 
 as a proof of her satisfaction with the 
 choice she has made. The creel goes 
 round again; more merriment succeeds; 
 and all the company dine together, and 
 talk over the feats of the field.* 
 
 True-Lovebs-Kkots. 
 Among the ancient northern nations a 
 knot seems to have been the symbol of 
 indissoluble love, faith, and friendship. 
 Hence the ancient runic inscriptions, 
 Hickes's, are in the form of a knot ; and 
 hence,- among- the northern English and 
 Scots, who still retain, in a great mea- 
 sure,the language and manners of the an- 
 cient Danes, that curious kind of knot, 
 which is a mutual present between the 
 lover and his mistress, and which, being 
 consider-d as the emblem of plighted 
 fidelity, is therefore called "a true-loye 
 knot :" a name which is not derived, as 
 may be naturally supposed, from the 
 words "true" and " love," but formed 
 from the Danish verb " trulofa," J?dem do, 
 I plight my troth, or faith. Thus, in the 
 Isiandio Gospels, the following passage 
 in the first chapter of St. Matthew con- 
 firms, beyond a doubt, the sense here 
 given — " til einrar Meyar er trulofad var 
 einum Manne," &,c. ; i.e. to a virgin es- 
 poused ; that is, who was promised, or 
 had engaged herself to a man, &c. 
 Hence, evidently, the "bride favors," 
 
 * Frand. 
 
 Brand. 
 
1053 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMCER 8. 
 
 1054 
 
 or the " top-knots," at marriages, which 
 have been considered as emblems of the 
 ties of duty and affection between the 
 bride and her spouse, have been derived. 
 In Davison's "Poetical Rhapsody, 
 1611," are the following verses: — 
 
 The Tfue Loves Knot. 
 Love is the Unite, the knot, the band of unity, 
 And all that love do love with their beloved 
 to be: 
 Love only did decree 
 To change his kind in me. 
 
 For though I loved with all the powers of toy 
 
 mind, 
 And though my restles thoughts their rest in 
 her did iinde. 
 Yet are my hopes declinde 
 Sith Ehc is most unkinde. 
 
 For since her beauties sun my fruicles hope 
 
 did breede, 
 By absence from that sun I hop't to stcrve 
 that weede ; 
 Though absence did, indeede. 
 My hopes not stcrve, but feede. 
 
 For when 1 shift my place, like to the stricken 
 
 drere, 
 T cannot shift the shaft which in my side 1 
 benre : 
 
 By me it resteth there. 
 
 The -cause is not- else where. 
 
 So have 1 scene the sicke to turne ana turne 
 
 againc. 
 As if that outward change could ease his in- 
 ward paine : 
 But still, alas ! in vaiiie. 
 The fit doth still remaine. 
 
 Yet goodnes is the spring from whence this 
 
 ill doth grow. 
 For goodnes caused the love, which great 
 respect did owe. 
 Respect true love did show ; 
 True love thus wrought my woe. 
 
 Gay, in his Pastoral called " the Spell," 
 describes the rustic manner of knitting 
 tiie true-love-knot : — 
 
 As Lubberkin once slept beneath a tree, 
 I twitched his dangling garter from his knee ; 
 He wist not when the hempen string I drew, 
 'Now mine I quickly doff of Inkle blue ; 
 Together fast I tye the garters twaine, 
 And, while 1 knit the knot, repeat this strain — 
 Three times a true-love's knot I tye secure : 
 Firm be the knot, firm may his love endure. 
 
 In England lh6se knots of ribands were 
 formerly distributed in great abundance 
 as bride favors, even at the marriages of 
 persons of the first distinction. They 
 were worn at the hat, and consisted of 
 ribands of various colors. M. Misson, 
 
 in his Travels in England, printed in 
 1696, says, " Formerly, in France, they 
 gave Livre«s de Noces, which was a knot 
 of ribands, to be worn by the guests 
 upon their arms; but that is practised 
 now only among peasants. In England 
 it is done still amongst tlie greatest noble- 
 men. Thesp ribands they call ' favors,' 
 and give them not only to tliose that are- 
 at the wedding, but to five hundred peo- 
 ple besides. T'otlter day, when the eldest 
 son of M. de Overkerque married the 
 duke of Ormond's sister, they dispensed 
 a whole inundation of those little favors : 
 nothing else was here to be met with, 
 from the hat of the king down to that of 
 the meanest servant." Ozell, in a note to 
 his translation of Missoii, says : " The 
 favor was ii pretty large knOt, of several 
 colors, gold, silver, carnation, and white. 
 This is worn upon the hat for some weeks." 
 The only color for wedding-favors at this 
 time [1831] is white. 
 
 The bride favors have not been omitted 
 in " The Collier's Wedding," a northern 
 provincial poem : — 
 
 The blithsome bucksome country maids. 
 With knots of ribands at their headfj^ 
 And pinners fiutt'ring iu the wind. 
 That fan before and toss behind, &c. 
 
 The same poem, speaking of the youth 
 attending the bridegroom, says 
 Like streamers in the painted sky. 
 At every breast the favors fly. 
 
 Bridal Colors. 
 
 In a curious old book "The fifteeii 
 Comforts of Marriage," a conference is 
 introduced concerning bridal colors in 
 dressing up the bridal-bed by the bride- 
 maids.— "Not, say they, with yellow 
 ribbands, these are the emblems of jealousy 
 — not with • Fueille mart,' that signifies 
 fading love— but with true blue, that 
 signifies constancy, and green denotes 
 youth— put them both together, and 
 there's youthful constancy. One pro- 
 posed blvf. and black, that signifies con- 
 stancy till death ; but that was objected 
 to as those colors will never match. 
 Violet was proposfed as signifyingreligii n': 
 this was objected to as being too grave : 
 and at last they concluded to mingle a 
 gold tissue with grass green, which latter 
 signifies youthful jollity. " For the 
 bride's favors, top-knots, and garters, the 
 bride proposed blue, gold color, lemon- 
 color, 4f. Gold-£o\oT was objected to 
 as signifying avarice. Tlie younger bride- 
 
055 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.- SEPTEMBER 8. 
 
 1056 
 
 maid proposed to mix wUlow and milk 
 white : the willow was excluded because 
 it signified forsaken.* 
 
 A virtuousy discreet^ and loving Wife, 
 
 Let no man value at a little prica 
 
 A virtuous woinan*B counsaile ^ her wing*d 
 
 spirit 
 Is feathered oftentimes with heavenly 
 
 words; 
 And (like her heauty) ravishing^ and pure 
 The weaker bodie, still the stronger soule. 
 When good endeavours do her powers applie. 
 Her love draws nearest man's felicitie, 
 O what a treasure is a virtuous wife, 
 Discrete and loving : not one gift on earth 
 Makes a man's life so highly bound to 
 
 heaven ; 
 She gives him double forces, to endure 
 And to enjoy ; by being one with him, 
 Feeling his joies and griefes with equal sense * 
 And like the twines Hippocrates reports. 
 If he fetch sighs, she draws her breath as 
 
 short : 
 If he lament, she melts herself in teares : 
 If he be glad, she triumphs ; if he siirre, 
 She moves his way ; in all things his sweet 
 
 ape : 
 And is, in alterations passing strange, 
 Himselfe divinely varied without change. 
 Gold is right precious ; but his price infects 
 With pride and avarice ; authority lifts 
 Hats from men's heads ; and bows the strong- 
 est knees. 
 Yet cannot bend in rule the weakest hearts ; 
 Musick delights but one sense ; nor choice 
 
 meats ; 
 One quickly fades, the other stir to sinne ; 
 But a true wife, both sense and soul delights. 
 And mixeth not her good with any ill ; 
 Her virtues, ruling hearts, all powers command ; 
 All store without her leaves a man butpoore j 
 And with her, povertie's exceeding store ; 
 Ko time is tedious with her ; her true worth 
 Makes a true husband thinke his arms enfold 
 (With her alone) a compleate world of golde. 
 Chapman, 1606. 
 
 Conjugal Felicity. 
 
 There is nothing can please a man 
 without love : and if a man be weary of 
 the wise discourses of the Apostles, and 
 of the innocency of an even and a private 
 fortune, or hates peace, or a fruitful year, 
 he hath reaped thorns and thistles from 
 the choicest flowers of paradise; for 
 nothing can sweeten felicity- itself, but 
 
 * Brand* 
 
 love ; but, when a man dwells in love, 
 then the breasts of his wife are pleasant 
 as the droppings upon the hill of Hermon, 
 her eyes are fair as the light of heaven; 
 she is a fountain sealed, and he can 
 quench his thirst, and ease his cares, and 
 lay his sorrows down upon her lap, and 
 can retire home to his sanctuary and 
 refectory, and his gardens of sweetness 
 and chaste refreshments. No man can 
 tell, but he that loves his children, how 
 many delicious accents make a man's 
 heart dance in the pretty conversation of 
 those dear pledges ; their childishness, 
 their stammering, their little angers, their 
 innocence, their imperfections, their ne- 
 cessities, are so many little emanations of 
 joy and comfort to him that delights in 
 their persons and society. — Jeremy/ Taylor. 
 
 Children. 
 
 Oh ! to my sense, there is in childhood's 
 
 kiss. 
 
 And in its trust, that, in a world like this. 
 
 Each that surrounds it is its genuine friend ! 
 
 Their little pranks^ the which with emphasis 
 
 Speaks of the heavens ! 'Tis to condescend, 
 
 From converse with a child,with aught on earth 
 
 to blend. 
 In a child's voice — is there not melody ? 
 
 In a child's eye — is there not rapture seen ? 
 And rapture not of passion's revelry ? 
 
 Calm, though impassion'd ! durable, though 
 
 keen ! 
 It is all fresh, like the young spring's first 
 ^ green ! 
 Children seem spirits from above descended. 
 To whom still cleaves heaven's atmosphere 
 serene ; 
 Their very wildnesses with truth are blended : 
 Fresh from their skiey mould, they cannot be 
 amended. 
 
 Warm and uncalculating, they're more wise — 
 jMore sense than cxtasy of theirs denotes — 
 More of the stuff have they of paradise— 
 And more the music of the warbling throats 
 Of choirs whose anthem round th' Eterni;} 
 floats — 
 Than all that bards e'er feign ; or tuneful skill 
 Has e'er struck forth from artificial notes : — • 
 Theirs is that language^ ignorant of ill, 
 Born from a perfect harmony of power an 
 will. 
 
 C. Lloyd, 1821. 
 
 Septemhej' 8. — Day breaks 
 Sun rises . 
 
 h, m, 
 
 3 25 
 5 27 
 
 — sets ... 6 33 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 35 
 
 Late crocus, and naked crocus blow. 
 
U05 
 
 THE YEAtl BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 8.' 
 
 1058 
 
 ARCH ERECTED IN GRACECHURCH STREET, 
 
 FOR THE CORONATION PROCESSION OF JAMES I. 
 
 FROM THE TOWER TO WESTMINSTER, 1603-4. 
 
 In a handsome three and sixpenny 
 tract, entitled " London Pageants," Mr. 
 John Goiigh Nichols has compiled " Ac- 
 counts of fifty-five Royal Processions and 
 
 Vei. L— 34. 
 
 Entertainments in the City of IxJndon." 
 It is printed iti octavo, and embellished 
 with a folding quarto plate (from whitih 
 the preceding engraving is copied)» aftet 
 
 2 M 
 
1059 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 8. 
 
 1060 
 
 one of seven very rare folio prints repre- 
 senting " The Arches of Triumph erected 
 in honor of the High and Mighty Prince 
 James, the first ot the name king of 
 England, and the sixth of Scotland, at 
 his Majesty's entrance and passage through 
 his honorable Citty and Chamber of Lon- 
 don, upon the l5th day of March, 1603. 
 Invented and published by Stephen Har- 
 rison, Joyner and architect ; and graven 
 by William Kip." In 1803 a set of 
 these prints, at Mr. Woodhouse's sale, 
 produced twenty-six guineas, and there- 
 fore Mr. Nichols's view of one of these 
 coronation arches enhances the interest of 
 his work. It abounds in curious know- 
 ledge, familiarly communicated upon 
 competent authority,and is consequently 
 a desirable publication to all who wish to 
 be acquainted, at a small expense, with 
 the old royal processions in the metropolis. 
 _ On reference to Mr. Nichols's " Lon- 
 don Pageants," we find, that, from very 
 early times, the kings of England made 
 processions through London to their coro- 
 nation. 
 
 In 1236, Henry III. having solemnized 
 his marriage with Eleanor of Provence, at 
 Canterbury, they were met, on their way 
 to London, by the mayor, aldermen, and 
 principal citizens, on horseback, richly 
 arrayed in silk embroidered robes, each 
 carrying a gold or silver cup, in token of 
 the privilege claimed by the city, of being 
 chief butler of the kingdom, at the king's 
 coronation ; and so they rode with the 
 king and queen to their coronation at 
 Westminster : there were set out in the 
 streets pompous shows, and at night the 
 cityi was splendidly illuminated with 
 cressets and other lights. This seems to 
 be the first coronation procession through 
 the city upon record. 
 
 The procession of Richard II. on St, 
 Swithin s day, 1377, is remarkable. The 
 tiiig, then a youth, clad in white garments, 
 with a multitude of attendants, rode from 
 the tower after dinner, through the city. 
 The conduits ran with wine. In the 
 Cheap was erected a castle spouting wine 
 with four towers, and in each tower a 
 beautiful virgin iji white, of like stature 
 and age with the king ; on his approach 
 each virgin blew in his face leaves of 
 gold, and threw on him and his horse 
 counterfeit gold florins, and, filling wine 
 from the castle spouts into go.d cups, 
 presented wine to the king and his noblesj 
 and on the top of the castle was a golden 
 anjfel, holding a crown, and so contrived, 
 
 that he bowed down when the king came, 
 and offered him the crown. There were 
 other pageants, or shows, at other places 
 in the line of route, but this was the most 
 striking. 
 
 The return of Henry V. from his vic- 
 tory at Agincourt was welcomed with 
 great rejoicing. The king was met at 
 Blackheath by the mayor and aldermen 
 of London, arrayed in orient grained 
 scarlet, and 400 commoners in beautiful 
 murrey, all with rich collars and chains, 
 and on horseback. At St. Thomas a 
 Watering he was received by the London 
 clergy in solemn procession, with sump- 
 tuous copes, rich crosses, and censers. 
 At London bridge, on the top of the 
 tower, stood a gigantic figure with an 
 axe in his right hand, and in his left the 
 keys of the city hanging to a staff, in 
 manner of a porter ; by his side was a 
 female figure, of scarcely less stature, 
 intended for his wife : around them 
 was a band of trumpets and other 
 wind instraments : and on the towers 
 were banners of the royal arms. On 
 each side of the drawbridge was a 
 lofty tower; one was painted to represent 
 white marble, and the other green jasper ; 
 they were surmounted by figures of the 
 king's beasts, an antelope, with a shield of 
 the royal arms from his neck, holding 
 a sceptre with his right foot ; and a lion 
 bearing in his right paw the royal standard. 
 At the foot of the bridge, next the city, 
 was raised a tower, having in the middle 
 a splendid pavilion, under which ^tood a 
 beautiful image of St. George, :armed, 
 except his head, which was crowned with 
 laurel, studded with precious gems ; be- 
 hind him was crimson tapestry, bearing 
 a multitude of glittering shields, 'and on 
 one side of him was his triumphal helmet, 
 and on the other his arms, a red c.oss ; 
 he held in his right hand the hilt of his 
 sword, girted, and in his left a scroll, ex- 
 tending along the turrets, and inscribed. 
 Soli Deo Honor ei Gloria. In an adjoin- 
 ing edifice innumerable boys, representing 
 the angelic host, in white, with glittering 
 wings, and sprigs of laurel in their hair, 
 on the king's approach sang an anthem, 
 accompanied by organs. The tower of 
 the Conduit on Cornhill was decked with 
 a tent of crimson cloth, and ornamented 
 with the king's arms, and those of St. 
 George, St. Edward, and St. Edmund. 
 Under the pavilion was a company of 
 hoary prophets, in golden ooats and man- 
 tles, and their heads covered with gojd 
 
J061 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 8 
 
 1062 
 
 and crimson ; who, when the king passed, 
 sent forth a great quantity of small birds, 
 as a sacrifice agreeable to God, some of 
 which alighted on the king's breast and 
 shoulders, and others fluttered around 
 him : the prophets then sang the psalm, 
 Cantate Domino cantkum novum, &c. 
 The tower of the Conduit at the entrance 
 of Cheap was hung with green, and 
 ornamented with escutcheons. Here sat 
 twelve old men, having the names of the 
 apostles written on I heir foreheads, to- 
 gether with the twelve kings, martyrs, 
 and confessors of England; these also 
 chaunted at the king's approach, and sent 
 forth upon him round leaves of silver 
 mixed with wafers, and offered wine from 
 the pipes of the conduit, imitating Mel- 
 chisedek's reception of Abraham, when 
 he returned. from his victory over the four 
 lungs. The Cross of Cheap was con- 
 cealed by a noble castle, constructed of 
 timber, and covered with- linen, painted 
 to resemble squared blocks of white 
 marble, and green and crimson jasper; 
 the arms of St. George adorned the sum- 
 mit, those of the king and the emperor 
 were raised on halberds, and the lower 
 turrets had the arms of the royal family 
 and great peers of the realm. From a 
 stage in front came forth a chorus of 
 virgins with.timbrel and dance, as to an- 
 other David .coming from the slaughter of 
 Goliah ; their song of congratulation was, 
 " Welcome, Henry the Fifte, King of 
 Eoglond and of Fraunce :" throughout 
 the building there was dispersed a mul- 
 titude of boys, representing the heavenly 
 host, who showered on the king small 
 coins resembling gold, and thiew boughs 
 of. laurel, and sang, accompanied by 
 organs, Te Deum lavdamus. The tower 
 of the conduit at the west end of Cheap 
 was surrounded with pavilions, and in 
 each pavilion was a virgin, and each vir- 
 gin held a cup, and these virgins blew forth 
 from their cups golden leaves on the king : 
 the tower was covered with a canopy 
 resembling the sky and clouds ; and the 
 four corners of the celestial canopy were 
 supported by angels, and on the summit 
 was an archangel of brilliant gold. 
 Under the canopy, on a throne, was a rer 
 splendent image representing the sun, 
 shining above all things, and around it 
 were angels singing, and playing all kinds 
 of musical instruments. On the king leav- 
 ing this pageant he passed on to his devo- 
 tions at St. Paul's, and thence he departed 
 to his palace at Westminster. 
 
 In order to make due mention of the 
 subject of the present engraving, all 
 notice of other processions, and scenes 
 of uncommon splendor, must be omitted. 
 Arriving then at the coronation progress 
 of James I., Mr. Nichols says, "The 
 king left the tower between the hours of 
 eleven and tw,elve, mounted on a white 
 jennet, under a rich canopy, sustained by 
 eight gentlemen of the Privy Chamber^ 
 instead of the Barons of the Cinque 
 Ports. His notice was first directed to 
 three hundred children of Christ's Hos- 
 pital, placed on a scaffold at the Church 
 of AUhallows, Barking." He next came 
 to the first arch, which was at Fenchurch, 
 and is decribed in Mr. Nichols's work. 
 Proceeding onwards towards Cornhill the 
 cavalcade reached the edifice represented 
 by the engraving at the head of this article, 
 and which occurs to be spoken of in Mr. 
 Nichols's words : " The second Pageant 
 was erected in Gracechurch-street, by the 
 Italian merchants.* Its ground plan was 
 a square ornamented with four great 
 columns ; in the midst of which was cut 
 one arch, twenty-seven feet in height. 
 Above the aroh was represented king 
 Henry the Seventh, seated, approached 
 by king James, on horseback (as he was 
 usually seen), to receive the sceptre from 
 his ancestor. Between the columns were 
 also four allegorical paintings. On the 
 roof, on a pedestal, stood a female figure, 
 holding a crbwn, which she seemed to 
 stoop to bestow upon the king. At the 
 four corners, were erected figures with 
 trumpets ; and over the gateway, on one 
 side, were palm trees, and on the other a 
 vine, with angels." 'This is the arch de-- 
 picted in the print. 
 
 But, upon the same spot, in Grace- 
 church-street, a Pageant of far greater 
 splendor had been erected a century 
 before, in 1501, to welcome the entry of 
 the princess Katherine of Spain, on oc- 
 casion of her approaching marriage with 
 Arthur prince of Wales. In the middle 
 
 • This custom, that Arches of Triumph 
 should be erected by foreign merchants, pre- 
 vailed also on the Continent. At a public 
 entry into Lisbon, in 1729, on the marriage 
 of the prince o£ Brazil, when there were 
 twenty-fonr Triumphal Arches in the several 
 streets, each of the nations of strangers was 
 obliged to erect one. "The English arch 
 will be the finest, and will cost at Jeast-20,000 
 crusadoes ; the Hamburghers about 15,000.'? 
 —WhilehaU Enenmg Post, Feb, 22, 1728-9. . 
 2 M 2 
 
1063 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBEU 8. 
 
 1064 
 
 of Gracechurch-street " where the water 
 runneth into the channel," was fixed a 
 foundation of stone of three or four 
 feet high, having a passage for the current 
 of water as usual : on which foundation 
 was constructed a castle, formed of timber, 
 but covered with canvas painted to resem- 
 ble masonryi Within a man's height from 
 the stone work, were battlements ornament- 
 ed with these badges ; 1, a red rose with 
 a white one within it, surmounted by a 
 crown of gold ; 2, three blue garters, with 
 the posey of the order, also crowned ; 3, a 
 golden fleur-de-lis ; and 4, a portcullis with 
 two chains, surmounted by a crown. In 
 some parts also were clouds, with beams 
 of gold, in a blue firmament ; in other 
 places white harts ; and in others pea- 
 cocks displayed. Above the first battle- 
 ment was a great gate, with folding leaves, 
 full of great bars of iron with nails, and 
 over the gate a large portcullis, having in 
 every joint a red rose ; over this gate, on 
 the stone work, were the King's arms, sup- 
 ported on the right side by a red dragon, 
 dreadful, and on the left by a white grey- 
 hound ; and a yard from these arms on 
 every side was a great red rose of half a 
 yard in breadth. Above this gate was an- 
 other course of battlements and badges, like 
 the former. Beneath, in tlie opening, stood 
 a Knight, armed cap-a-pi6, named Policy. 
 The building stretched on each side into 
 the adjoining windows and shops, with 
 two other portcullises embatttemented, and 
 ornamented with numberless repetitions of 
 the badges and royal insignia already de- 
 scribed ; and at each corner of this middle 
 story and great tower was a turret, decked 
 with roses, greyhounds, portcullises, and 
 St. George's crosses of white and red, each 
 turret having at top seven sides, and on 
 each side a pinnacle and a vane. Above 
 all this great story was another somewhat 
 smaller, leaded above, and painted on its 
 four sides like rag and flint stones, with 
 hollow crosses, windows, and gunholes, 
 and on the top great vanes with the King's 
 arms, and at the summit of the whole a 
 red dreadful dragon holding a staff of iron, 
 and on it a great crown of gold. In this 
 upper story was another large door where- 
 in stood alcnightwith ahead-piece, called 
 Nobleness; and on his right hand a bishop 
 who was named Virtue. The Knights 
 and the Bishop all delivered long poetical 
 addresses. The horseways and passages 
 were under the wings of this Pageant, 
 which was called the Castle of PortcuUeys. 
 The prescribed limits restrain all notice 
 
 iiere of the other gorgeous Pageants set out 
 by the corporation for the entertainment 
 of the princess, and the royal and noble 
 personages accompanying her progress: 
 nor can even a glance be taken at any of 
 the numerous splendid Processions and 
 Pageants described in Mr. Nichols's inter- 
 esting publication. 
 
 Enquirers concerning accounts of " Lord 
 Mayors' Shows" may be gladdened by 
 knowing that in Mr. Nichols's " London 
 Pageants" there is a thorough clue to 
 their pursuits. The work contains a 
 " Bibliographical list of Lord Mayors' 
 Pageants," from the mayoralty of sir 
 Woolston Dixie in 1585 ; with particulars 
 of some of earlier date, and notices of 
 others belonging to our own times ; not 
 omitting the mayoralty show of Mr. 
 Alderman Lucas in 1 827, when the giants 
 walked. 
 
 Old Triumphal Song. 
 
 My mind to me a kingdom is ; 
 
 Such perfect joy therein I find. 
 That it excels all other bliss 
 
 Which God or nature hath assign'd ; 
 Though much I want that most would have 
 Yet still my mind forbids to crave. 
 
 No princely port, nor wealthy store. 
 
 No force to win a victory j 
 No wily wit to salve a sore ; 
 No shape to win a loving eye : 
 To none of these 1 yield as thrall -, 
 For why ? my mind despise them all. 
 
 1 see that plenty surfeits oft. 
 
 And hasty climbers soonest fall , 
 1 see that such as are aloft 
 
 Mishap doth threaten most of all. 
 These get with toil, and keep. with fear : 
 Such cares my mind can never bear. 
 
 1 press to hear no haughty sway ; 
 
 1 wish no more than may suffice ; 
 I do no more than well I may ; 
 
 Look, what 1 want my mind supplies : 
 Lo, thus I triumph like a king. 
 My mind content with any thing. 
 
 1 laugh not at another's loss ; 
 
 Nor grudge not at another's gain ; 
 No worldly waves my mind can toss ; 
 I brook what is another's bane j 
 I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend ; 
 I loathe not life, nor dread my end. 
 
 My wealth is health, and perfect ease ; 
 
 And conscience clear my chief defence : 
 I never seek by bribes to please ; 
 Nor by desert to give offence : 
 Thus do I live ; thus will I die : 
 Would all did so, as well as 1 '. 
 
1065 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.—SEPTEMBER 10. 
 
 1063 
 
 §b^temf>ev 9. 
 
 September 9, 17S9, died, at the age of 
 eighty-six, Thomas Bradbury, an eminent 
 dissenting minister, whose meeting-house, 
 in New-street, Shoe-lane, was lawlessly 
 destroyed by Sacheverel's mob. He 
 preached many years in New-court, 
 Carey-street, Lincoln's Inn-fields, where 
 he was succeeded by Mr. Winter, whose 
 brother married one of Mr. Bradbury's 
 daughters. Mr. Bradbury was a man of 
 superior abilities, and real piety with- 
 out bigotry. Mr. Granger saw a friendly 
 letter from archbishop Wake to him, part 
 of a correspondence between the metro- 
 politan and this patriarch of the dissenters, 
 which was creditable to their respective 
 views of each other. The principles of 
 the revolution, which called the bouse of 
 Hanover to the throne, were warmly 
 espoused, and firmly maintained, by Mr. 
 Bradbury, both privately and in public. 
 He was of a merry disposition ; a social, 
 pleasant companion, more famed for mirth 
 than harangues, and had a good ear for 
 music, with a fine strong voice. He was 
 supposed to sing " The Roast beef of old 
 England" better than any other man. 
 " Such,'' says the Rev. Mr. Noble, " was 
 ' brave old Tom Bradbury, a good 
 preacher, and a facetious companion.' 
 It is not the cheerful man that disturbs 
 the state, nor often the rich ; but the sour, 
 disappointed, needy man. Bradbury was 
 happy in his temper, rich in the gifts of 
 fortune, and possessed the esteem of a 
 wide circle of friemls. A perfect tolera- 
 tion would be an act of prudence as well 
 as humanity ; and, while the establishment 
 is not invaded, it will always be advan- 
 tageous; for 
 
 Conscience is a thing, we know. 
 Like to a inasti£f dog. 
 
 Which, if tied up, so fierce will grow, 
 He'U bite his very clop." 
 
 h. m; 
 September 9. — Day breaks ... 3 27 
 Sun rises . . . 5 29 
 — sets ... 6 31 
 Twilight ends . 8 33 
 The nights and mornings become sen- 
 sibly colder, and are often frosty. 
 
 Sbtvttmbev 10. 
 
 Harvest-supper — The Mel-supper — 
 
 KeBN-SUPPER SnoUTIKG THE Churn. 
 
 The learned and ill-fated Eugene Aram 
 says, " Tliese rural entertainments and 
 
 usages were formerly more general all 
 over England than they are at presetit, 
 being become by time, necessity, or avarice, 
 complex, confined, and altered. They 
 are commonly insisted upon by the reap- 
 ers as customary things, and a part of 
 their due for their toils of harvest, and 
 complied with by their masters, perhaps 
 more through regard of interest than in- 
 clination. For, should they refuse them 
 the pleasures of this much-expected time, 
 this festal night, the youth especially, of 
 both sexes, would decline serving him for 
 the future, and employ their labors for 
 others, who would promise them the rustic 
 joys of the harvest supper, mirth, and 
 music,' dance, and song:" He has other 
 observations to the following effect. These 
 feasts appeat to be the relics of Pagan 
 or Jewish ceremonies, and carry in them 
 more meaning, and are of higher antiquity 
 than is generally apprehended. We hear in 
 different counties, and often in the same 
 county, of mel-tupper, chum-supper, harvest 
 supper, harvest home, feast of ingathering. 
 Sfc. "The antiquity of the custom appears 
 from Exod. xxiii.l6. "The feast ofharvest, 
 the first fruits of thy labors, which thou 
 hast sown in the field." The Jews cele- 
 brated the feast of harvest, by precept; 
 and, piior to this. Gen. vi. 3, " Cain 
 brought of the fruit of the ground, and 
 offering to the Lord." 
 
 Yet the offering of the first-fruits, it 
 may well be supposed, was not peculiar 
 to the Jews. Calimachus affirms that 
 these primitse vfere sent by the people of 
 every nation to the temple of Apollo, in 
 Delos, and ty the Hyperboreans in par- 
 ticular, the most distant that enjoy the 
 happiness of corn and harvest. Hero- 
 dotus also mentions this annual custom of 
 the Hyperboreans, remarking, that those 
 of Delos talk of " Holy things tied up in 
 a sheaf of wheat, conveyed from the Hy-^ 
 perboreans." The Jews, by command of 
 their law, offered also a sheaf. Lev. xxiii. 
 10, « And shall reap the harvest thereof, 
 then ye shall bring a sheaf, the first fruits 
 of your harvest, unto the priest." This 
 may be looked upon as equivalent to a 
 proof; for, as the offering and the feasi 
 appear to have been always and intimately 
 connected, in countries affording records, 
 so it is more than probable they were 
 connected too in countries which had none, 
 or none that survived to our times. 
 
 There seems great reason to conclude, 
 that this feast, which was once sacred to 
 Apollo, was constantly maintained, when 
 
imi 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMDEll 10. 
 
 I06(J: 
 
 * fat less valuable circumstance, i. e. 
 Shouting the churn, is observed to this 
 day by the reapers, and from so old an 
 sera ; for we read of this acclamation, \^Isa. 
 xvi. 9,] " For the shouting for thy summer 
 fruits, and for thy harvest is fallen." And 
 again, verse 10, " And in the vineyards 
 there shall be no singing, neither shall 
 there be shouting." Hence then, or 
 from some of the Phoenician colonies, is 
 our traditionary " shouting the churn. " 
 Bread or cakes composed part of the 
 Hebrew offering, \^LevU. xxiii. 13,] and 
 a cake thrown upon the head of the victim 
 was part of a Greek offering to Apollo, 
 whosfe worship was formerly celebrated in 
 Britain, where the May-pole yet continues 
 one remain of it. This they adorned 
 with garlands on May-day, to welcome 
 the approach of Apollo, or the sun, 
 towards the north, and to signify that the 
 flowers were the product of his presence 
 and influence. But, upon the progress of 
 Christianity, Apollo lost his divinity, and 
 the adoration of his deity subsided. Yet 
 so permanent is custom, that this rite of 
 the harvest supper, together with that of 
 the May-pole, have been preserved in 
 Britain ; and what had been anciently 
 offered to the god, the reapers prudently 
 eat up themselves. At last, the use of the 
 meal of new corn was neglected, and the 
 supper, so far as meal was concerned, was 
 made indifferently of old or new corn, as 
 riiost agreeable to the founder. 
 
 The usage itself accounts for the name 
 of mcl-supper. Mel signifies meal, and the 
 instrument also called with us a melt, 
 wherewith corn was anciently reduced to 
 meal, in a mortar. Provisions of meal or 
 of corn in furmity, &c., composed by far 
 the greatest part of these old country enter- 
 tainments, perfectly conformably to the 
 simplicity of early times and persons. 
 And as the harvest was concluded with 
 preparation of meal, ready for the mell, 
 this came to mean the last of all things ; 
 as, when a horse comes last in a race, 
 they often say in the north " he has got 
 the mell. " 
 
 The other names of this country fes- 
 tivity sufficiently explain themselves, 
 except cfiurn-supper. This is entirely 
 different from the mei-supper; but they 
 generally happen so near together that 
 they are frequently confounded. The 
 churn-supper was always provided when 
 all was shorn, but the mel-supper after all 
 was got in. It was called the churn supper 
 because, from immemorial times, it was 
 
 customary to produce in a chum a great 
 quantity of cream, and to circulate it by 
 dishfuls to each of the rustic company, who 
 ale it with bread. Though this custom has 
 been disused in many places, or is agree- 
 ably commuted for by ale, yet it survives 
 still about Whitby and Scarborough, in 
 the east, and round about Guisbum, &o., 
 in Craven, in the west. But, perhaps a 
 century or two more will put an end to 
 it, and both the things and name shall die. 
 Vicarious ale is now more approved, and 
 the tankard almost every where politely 
 preferred to the churn. 
 
 Chum, in our provincial pronunciation 
 kern, is the Hebrew kern or kerin, from 
 its being circular, like most horns; and 
 it is the Latin corona, named so either 
 from its radii, resembling horns, as on 
 some very ancient coins, or from its en- 
 circling the head ; so a ring of people is 
 called corona. Also the Celtic koren,keren, 
 com, which continues according to its old 
 pronunciation in Cornwall, &c., and our 
 modern word horn is no more than this; 
 Ihe ancient hard sound of k in corn being 
 softened into the aspirate /(, as has been 
 done in numberless instances. The Irish 
 Celtae also call a round stone clough crene 
 when the variation is merely dialectic. 
 Hence, too, our crane berries, i. e. round 
 berries, from the Celtic adjective crene, 
 round. 
 
 These particulars are derived, as before 
 stated, from a dissertation by Eugene 
 Aram, who, after an ingenious defence, 
 was clearly convicted of a murder he had 
 committed sixteen years before his trial, 
 and suffered death for the crime. 
 
 "Largess." 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 It is, or lately was, a custom in Hert 
 fordshire, for the men employed in getting 
 in the corn, to meet in companies on the 
 morning next after the " Harvest-home," 
 for the purpose of perambulating the 
 neighbourhood of their work, to " beg a ' 
 _/bi«-largess," as they term it. Each party 
 is headed by a " lord o' th' harvest," who 
 is generally spokestnan for the rest. They 
 solicit from all persons respectably attired, 
 whom they may happen to meet ; but ' 
 they are more urgent in their requests at 
 the dwellings of persons to whom their 
 masters or themselves have been cus- 
 tomers during the past year. In most 
 instances " largess" is very liberally be- 
 stowed, both in money anil is kind ; and 
 
1089 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— SEPTEMBER to. 
 
 loro 
 
 the total sum collected is equitably 
 divided at the close of the diiy, when 
 
 " The laughing hinds rejoice ;" 
 
 And 
 
 " The grateful farmer payi accepted thanks 
 With joy unfeigned." 
 
 E. H. B. 
 
 Harvest-home. — " Largess.'' 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 The sounds of rustic rejoicing, at tiie 
 close of harvest, fall pleasantly upon the 
 ear, and are affecting to the feelings of 
 a kind-hearted traveller : he knows that 
 pleasure prevails among the toil-worn 
 laborers of a good-natured farmer. 
 
 Here, once a year^ distinction lowers its crest. 
 The master, servant^ and the merry guest. 
 Are equal all j and round the happy ring 
 The reaper's eyes exulting glances fling ; 
 And, warmed with gratitude, he quits his 
 
 place. 
 With sun-bumt hands, and ale-enlivened taee. 
 Refills the jug his honored host to tend. 
 To serve at once the master and the friend ; 
 Proud thus to meet his smiles, to share his 
 
 tale. 
 His nuts, his conversation, and his ale. 
 
 Bloomfield. 
 
 in some parts of Suffolk and Essex, 
 after the Harvest-home feast, there still 
 remains the old custom of " Hallooing 
 Largess." At the beginning of the reaping 
 a leader is appointed. He is generally 
 the best of the reapers, and called the 
 lord ; and, when the labor of the harvest 
 is over, he and the husbandmen are borne 
 home upon the last load of grain. Their 
 wives and children, and immediate friends, 
 follow in procession, carrying the imple- 
 ments used during the harvest, with 
 green boughs, a sheaf of wheat, and, per- 
 haps, a flag or two made of handkerchiefs, 
 and such other rude demonstrations of 
 rejoicing as fancy may suggest, or conve- 
 nience offer. With light hearts and 
 smiling faces, and cheerful shouts, they 
 proceed merrily along to the farmer's 
 house, where a good substantial supper is 
 provided for them, and to which are 
 generally invited the neighbouring farmers. 
 This is called the " Horkey," or Harvest- 
 home. There 
 
 — rfirst the fuelled chimney blazes wide ; 
 The tankards foam ; and the strong table 
 
 groans 
 Beneath the smoking sirloia stretched im- 
 
 From side to side, in which, with desperate 
 
 knife. 
 They deep incision make, and talk the while 
 Of ^England's glory, ne'er to be defaced. 
 While hence they borrow vigour. 
 
 During the day it was the business of 
 the " Lord" to collect from the neighbours 
 and friends of the farm what is called 
 " Largess money." At night, when 
 
 . Now twelve o'clock was drawing nigh. 
 
 And all in merry cue ; 
 1 knocked the cask, '* oh, oh !" says I, 
 We 've almost conquered you. 
 
 • • • 
 
 Twas near upon as light as noon ; 
 
 A largess, on the hill. 
 They shouted to the full round moon ; 
 
 1 think 1 hear them still. 
 
 Upon the breaking up of the " Hor- 
 key," the husbandmen of the farm assem- 
 ble upon some near eminence, or conspji- 
 cuous place, and lustily call out " Holla,- 
 holla, holla,— Largess." The "Holla" 
 they repeat quick, reserving all their 
 strength for the word " Largess," and on 
 this word they dwell till their voice is 
 exhausted. On a clear still night the 
 shoutof " largess" may be heard at a great 
 distance, and the lengthened sound is 
 very peculiar and pleasing. They repeat 
 the shout as often as they have received 
 " largess," and then, with some parting 
 merriment, which the " brown October" 
 often makes obstreperous, they close an 
 eveningj the anticipation of which had 
 cheered the old, and delighted the young, 
 throughout the toils of harvest. 
 
 Bloomfield has very pleasantly intro- 
 duced the custom by a poem called the 
 " Horkey-night," in his beautiful garland 
 of " Wild flowers," from which the above 
 two verses are extracted, and to which I 
 refer readers fond of nature, " though in 
 simple guise." The custom is fast sinking: 
 it only lingers among a few farmers who 
 are old fashioned enough to bestow their 
 " Largess" freely, and who love to hear 
 the welkin ring with the shout of grati-. 
 tude. 
 
 W. DOOWKUH. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 S^tember 10. — ^Daybreaks. . 3 30 
 
 Siin rises . . 5 31 
 
 — sets ... 6 29 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 ?0 
 
 OfSeinal saffron- blows. 
 
1Q71 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 10. 
 
 1072. 
 
 CHERTSEY 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Above is a copy of a Farthing in my 
 possession, inscribed on one side, ".this 
 FARTHING MADE TOR," On the Other side, 
 
 " CHERTSEY Ilf SURREY, 1668." As the 
 
 inscription implies, it was once a current 
 coin of the town : it is now very scarce. 
 
 Around the third bell of Chertsey 
 church is the following inscription, in 
 monkish characters about an inch and a 
 half high, " * ora * mente * pia * pro* 
 KOBis * Virgo * maria *." This bell 
 was brought to the church of Chertsey 
 from the monastery, which was established 
 there in the year 666 upon the conver- 
 sion of the Saxons from Paganism. Sub- 
 sequently, that building was destroyed, 
 and a new edifice erected by king Edgar. 
 King Henry VI. was buried at Chertsey 
 monastery, which in the reign of Henry 
 VIII. finally underwent the fate of the 
 religious houses. 
 
 Sliakspeare frequently mentions Chert- 
 sey in Richard III. Thus, at the close of 
 the scene with the lady Anne, he makes 
 Richard say — 
 
 Repair to Crosby place. 
 
 Where — after I have solemnly interrM, 
 At C hertsey monast'ry, this noble king. 
 And wet his grave with my repentant tears — 
 1 will with all expedient duty see you. 
 
 Cowley, the poet, lived at Chertsey, in 
 the Porch-house, the residence of the late 
 chamberlain of London, Richard Clark, 
 esq., who materially improved the estate. 
 In the vicinity of the town is St. Ann's- 
 hill, on which was anciently a cell of wor- 
 ship attached to the monastery ; near its 
 site is' the picturesque residence formerly 
 the seat of the late right hon. Charles 
 James Fox. 
 
 A< R. Smith. 
 
 FARTHING. 
 
 ling, or halfpenny, and the fourth-ling, or 
 fourth of a penny, now called farthing. 
 There is a, passage in Whitaker's Rich- 
 mond, which shows that coins were halved 
 and quartered,* as the dollar is at this 
 time in remote settlements of the United 
 States in America. 
 
 In 1444, 23 Henry VI., a petition was 
 presented to the House of Commons, 
 stating, that for default of half-pence and 
 farthings, men "travaillingoverCohtrees^ 
 for part of their expences of necessilee, 
 must depart our Soveraigne Loide's 
 coigne, that is to wete, a Peny in two 
 peces, or elles forgo all the same Peny for 
 the paiement of an Half-Peny." f 
 
 Henry I. first ordered half-pence and 
 farthings to be made round. Before that 
 time they had been made square. J 
 
 James I. granted by patent, to Frances, 
 duchess of Richmond, the monopoly of 
 coining farthings for seventeen years. § 
 
 Farthings. , 
 
 A farthine is the fourth part of a penny. 
 The Anglo-Saxon penny is known to have 
 been as early as 688, and was perhaps 
 earlier: it was of silver. The cross is 
 said to have been deeply impressed upon 
 it, that it might be divided into the half- 
 
 Quecn Anne's Farthings. 
 It prevails, as a vulgar error, that a 
 Queen Anne's Farthing is of immense 
 value. Her farthing is scarce, but not 
 valuable, unless in fine preservation. The 
 only farthing issued in her reign bears 
 her head, inscribed Anna sei gratia, 
 and on the reverse Britannia 1 714. In 
 the finest condition it is not worth more 
 than twenty shillings, or, with the broad 
 rim, thirty shillings. There were pattern? 
 for farthings of her reign, which were not 
 issued, one with Britannia under a portal, 
 and another with Peace in a car, are rare, 
 and valued at forty shillings. The rarest 
 pattern is inscribed on the reverse Bello 
 et PACE 1713. The field in the centre is 
 sunk, the rims indented, to prevent cast- 
 ing in sand, and it has all the improve- 
 ments so much boasted of as being the 
 invention of Boulton in his last coinage 
 of copper. II 
 
 * Fosbroke's Ency. of Ahtiqultiea. 
 
 t Antiq. Repeitory. 
 
 i Andrew's Hist. G. Britain. 
 
 $ Rymer, 
 
 II Fosbrokr. 
 
tora 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 11. 
 
 1074 
 
 The season of harvest is memorable for 
 an act of cruel injustice, perpetrated in 
 the name of religion . by Ferdinand II., 
 emperor of Germany, against several 
 flourishing communities of peaceable 
 christians. Robert Robinson, in his 
 " Ecclesiastical Researches," tells the fol- 
 lowing story of this outrage. 
 
 The ancestors of these people had been 
 driven from France in the twelfth cen- 
 tury. They were Baptists, and the re- 
 cords of Bohemia state that, about that 
 time, exiles of this persuasion arrived and 
 settled, near a hundred miles from Prague, 
 at Satz and Laun on the river Eger, just 
 on the borders of the kingdom. Almost 
 two hundred years after, an undoubted 
 record of the same country mentions a 
 people of the same description, some as 
 burnt at Prague, and others as inhabiting 
 the borders of the kingdom ; and, a hun- 
 dred and fifty years after that, we find a 
 people of the same description, settled by 
 connivance in the metropolis, and in 
 several other parts of the kingdom. — 
 About one hundred and twenty years 
 lower, a people in the same country, ex- 
 actly like the former, lived on the estate 
 of prince Lichtenstein. They were about 
 thirty or forty thousand in number. They 
 had no pfiests, but taught one another. 
 They had no private property, for they 
 held all things jointly. They executed 
 no offices, and neither exacted nor took 
 oaths. They bore no arms, and rather 
 chose to suffer than resist. They wor- 
 shipped God only by adoring his perfec- 
 tions, and endeavouring to imitate his 
 goodness. Thfty thought Christianity 
 wanted no comment. They professed 
 their belief of it, by being baptized ; and 
 their love to Christ, and one another, by 
 receiving the Lord's supper. They 
 aspired at neither wealth nor power, and 
 their plan was industry. Bohemia afforded 
 them work, wages, and a secure asylum, 
 which were all they wanted. These facts 
 do honor to human nature; they exhibit 
 in the great picture of the world a few 
 small figures in a back ground, unstained 
 with the blood, and unruffled with the 
 disputes of their fellow creatures. It was 
 their wisdom, in their times, not to come 
 forward to deliver apologies to the world, 
 and creeds with flattering prefaces to 
 princes ; the turbulence of the crowd 
 would have caused the still voice of 
 reason not to be heard. 
 
 The protestants of Bohemia alternately 
 endured persecution and enjoyed repose, 
 according to the bigoted or lenient dis- 
 positions of successive emperors. They, 
 existed by connivance and expedients 
 till the accession of Maximilian II., who 
 declared that such princes as tyrannized 
 over the consciences of men attacked 
 the Supreme Being, and frequently lost 
 possessions on earth by concerning them- 
 selves with what exclusively belonged to 
 the divine government. He used to say 
 of Huss, "they very much injured that 
 good man." Lamenting with Crato, his 
 physician, the contentions of mankind 
 about religion, the emperor asked the 
 doctor what sect he thought came nearest 
 to the simplicity of the apostles ; Crato 
 answered, " I verily think the people 
 called Picards.'' Maximilian replied, " I 
 think so too." .During his reign every 
 body enjoyed liberty of conscience. His 
 son and successor, Rodolph, was of the 
 same pacific nature ; but some Jesuits who 
 insinuated themselves into his councils 
 persuaded him to enforce an old decree, 
 obnoxious against the Picards. Just 
 afterwards the Turks took one of his 
 towns, and Rodolph exclaimed, " I ex- 
 pected some such blow from the moment 
 I began to usurp dominion over the 
 consciences of men ; for they belong to 
 God alone." From that timeheexpressly 
 granted liberty of conscience, and the 
 free exercise of religion. His brother 
 Mathias contested with him for dominion, 
 and Rodolph finally ceded to him Hun- 
 gary, Austria, Moravia, and Bohemia. 
 Though the Bohemians did not approve 
 of this transfer, yet they so far deferred 
 to Rodolph as to elect Mathias, and 
 crown him king of Bohemia. He suc- 
 ceeded Rodolph as emperor, and, being 
 desirous of excluding his brothers from 
 the imperial throne, he adopted his cousin 
 Ferdinand, and so intrigued as to effect 
 his election by the states of Bohemia, 
 and Ferdinand was crowned at Prague. 
 It was evident to the Bohemians that the 
 house of Austria was elevating itself on 
 the ruins of German liberty. When, 
 therefore, on the death of Matthias, his 
 nominee was elected emperor of Germany, 
 under the title of Ferdinand II., the Bo- 
 hemians chose Frederick, the elector pala- 
 tine, king of Bohemia, and haying stipu- 
 lated for their liberties they crowned him. 
 Frederick had married the princess Eliza- 
 beth, daughter of James I. king of Eng- 
 land, from whom, and other princes of 
 
1CT5 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 11. 
 
 1076 
 
 Europe, who dreaded the growing power 
 of Austria, expectations of support were 
 entertained. The Bohemians insisted on 
 their ancient right to elect their own king 
 and make their own laws. To protect 
 their claims they raised an army, which 
 was signally defeated. The short-lived 
 dignity of Frederick and his wife was 
 extinguished by this blow, which riveted 
 the chains of Austria upon Bohemia from 
 that hour to the present. 
 
 When Ferdinand II. was crowned 
 emperor of Germany, he paid a visit to 
 our lady of Loretto, and made a vow 
 to extirpate heresy from his dominions, 
 on condition that the virgin would render 
 his arms sucessful. He reinstated the 
 Jesuits, and they advised him to begin 
 with that part of the Baptists whose 
 principles would not allow them to make 
 ahy resistance, and who would remove at 
 a word, without giving his majesty the 
 trouhle of putting them to death. 
 
 Tlie Bohemian and Moravian Baptists 
 were then divided into two classes ; the 
 Bohemians consisted of Calvinist Pic- 
 ards, and resided at different places all 
 over the kingdom. Some of their min- 
 isters kept school ; others practised physic. 
 The other class lived all together in Mo- 
 ravia, and are called in the imperial edict 
 by the new German name Anabaptists. 
 These people lived in forty-five colleges 
 or fraternities, exactly as their ancestors 
 had done previously to their banishment 
 from France, about four hundred and fifty 
 years before this period. Each of these 
 little corporations consisted of many fami- 
 lies, who held all things common. Each 
 fraternity contained between some hun- 
 dreds and a thousand, and thence it is 
 inferred that they were about forty thou- 
 sand. Some of these fraternities carried 
 on manufactories, otiiers were factors and 
 merchants, and others were employed in 
 agriculture, and a wine trade. All were 
 busy, peaceable, and happy, under regu- 
 lations of their own making, having none 
 of that class of mankind ainong them 
 who live on the vices and follies of their 
 fellow-creatures. They were no burden 
 to any body : on the contrary they served 
 and enriched the community. They had 
 founded liberty on independence, and 
 independence on industry. 
 
 It was not an easy matter to get rid of 
 these Baptists. The emperor's chaplains, 
 who were privy counsellors, talked of 
 heresy : but it was difficult to bring a 
 direct charge a'ainst a people who had 
 
 no public &ith, and who never attacked 
 any religion by publishing creeds. They 
 could not be charged with perjury, for 
 they had never taken any oaths, and one 
 of their maxims was " Swear not at all." 
 Sedition could not be pretended, for they 
 never bore arms. They could not be 
 awed by one another, for they had no 
 masters; they could not be bribed, for 
 they had no necessitous gentry. Filled 
 with that unsuspicious freedom, which 
 innocence inspires, they had not even one 
 patron at the imperial court, and their 
 whole expectation was placed on the 
 superintending providence of God. — 
 Prince Lichlenstein, on whose domain • 
 they lived, and to whom they paid rent, 
 and many other noblemen, endeavoured 
 to save these people, on account of the 
 benefits which they derived from them. 
 Ferdinand wrote first to prince Lichten- 
 stein and cardinal Dietrichstein, the first 
 general of the army, and the last governor 
 of the province, to inform them of his 
 design, and to require their concurrence 
 on pain of his displeasure. Then fol- 
 lowed the edict, in which his majesty 
 expressed his astonishment at the number 
 of the Anabaptists, and his horror at the 
 principal error which they embraced, 
 which was that, according to the express 
 declarations of holy scripture, they were 
 to submit to no human authority. He 
 added, that his conscience compelled him 
 to proscribe them, and accordingly he 
 banished them from all his hereditary 
 and imperial dominions on pain of death. 
 The Jesuits contrived to publish this edict 
 just before harvest and vintage came on, 
 for two reasons, first that the neighbouring 
 gentry would be absent, and next that the 
 people might not carry away the produce 
 of the present year. They allowed them 
 only three weeks and three days for their 
 departure ; it was death to be found even 
 on the borders of the country beyond the 
 expiration of the hour. 
 
 It was Autumn — the prospect and the 
 pride of husbandmen. Heaven had 
 smiled on their honest labors ; their fields 
 stood thick with corn, and the sun and 
 the dew were improving every moment 
 to give them their last polish. The yellow ' 
 ears waved in homage to their owners 
 and the wind whistling through the stems, 
 and the russet herbage softly said, " Put 
 in the sickle, the harvest is come." Their 
 luxuriant vine leaves too, hung aloft by 
 tendrils, mantled over the clustering 
 grapes like watchful parents over thei/ 
 
1077 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— SEPTEMfiER 11, 
 
 1078 
 
 tender offspriog : but all were fenced by 
 an imperial edict, and it was instant death 
 to approach. Without leaving one mur^ 
 mur upon record, in solemn silent sub- 
 mission to the power that governs the 
 universe, and causes " All things to work 
 together for good" to his creatures, they 
 packed up and departed. In several 
 hundred carriages they conveyed their 
 sick, their innocent iniants sucking at the 
 breasts of their mothers who had newly 
 lain in, and their decrepid parents whose 
 work was done, and whose silvery locks 
 told every beholder that they wanted only 
 the favor of a grave. At the borders 
 they filed oiF, some to Hungary, others to 
 Transylvania, some to Wallachia, others 
 to Poland and Szek-hel; greater, far 
 greater, for their virtue, than Ferdinand 
 with all his titles, and in all his glory. 
 
 In this instance the lords who benefited 
 from their lands being occupied by these 
 peaceful communities," and who must have 
 been deeply injured by their forcible ex- 
 pulsion, offered no resistance to the law- 
 less will of the imperial chief. Yet 
 many of the denounced, in other parts of 
 the empire were suffered to remain. 
 Some of the nobility protected and em- 
 ployed them ; butj when they lost their 
 love for civil liberty, they neglected or 
 persecuted them. 
 
 The able writer from whom these parti- 
 culars are derived concludes his narrative 
 by exclaiming, — " Woful is the state of 
 that people who having no property in the 
 soil, and no protection by law, are in- 
 debted for a momentary gleam of liberty 
 to the precaiious affection or convenience 
 of great families ! In a change of patrons, 
 purity of faith is a jest; and innocence 
 of manners is as the harmlessness of sheep : 
 they are sure to be sacrificed whenever it 
 becomes the interest of a family to make 
 such an offering to the ruling despot." * 
 
 The Palatine Family. 
 
 Frederic accepted the crown of Bohe- 
 mia under a persuasion that his father-in- 
 law, the king of England, James I., with 
 whose pacific and unenterprising character 
 he seems to have been but little ac- 
 quainted, would fix him on the throne. 
 James tamely suffered him, not only to be 
 deprived of his kingdom, but even of his 
 
 * -Ecclesiastical Researclies by Robert Ro- 
 binson, p. 523—534, 
 
 hereditary dominions. Granger refer* 
 to a very curious account of Frederic, in 
 Winwood's Memorials, iii. 403. He 
 died 29th November 1632. 
 
 Elizabeth, James's daughter, saw only 
 a phantom of royalty, and had nothing 
 more than the empty title of queen. She 
 bore her misfortunes with patieiice and 
 even magnanimity. So engaging was her 
 behaviour, that she was, in the Low Coun- 
 tries, called the " Queen of Hearts." 
 When her fortunes was at the lowest ebb, 
 she never departed from her dignity ; and 
 poverty and distress seemed to have no 
 other effect upon her, but to render her 
 more an object of admiration than she 
 was before. In May, 1661, when between 
 60 and 70 years old, she returned to 
 England, and was one of the most 
 sprightly and agreeable women of her 
 age in the kingdom. She died 13th 
 February 1661-2. 
 
 Frederick Henry, eldest son of the king 
 and queen of Bohemia, was drowned in 
 1629, at the age of fifteen. Of Prince jRa- 
 pert, another son, who joined Charles I. 
 ]n arms, there is an account of in a pre- 
 vious page. Prince Maurice, their third 
 sou, engaged on the same side, laid siege 
 to Exeter and Dartmouth, and several 
 places in the west of England, and 
 achieved a distinguished victory at Lans- 
 down. Charles Lewis, the eldest surviv- 
 ing son of the unfortunate Frederic and 
 Elizabeth, came into England at eighteen 
 years of age, and received the order of 
 the garter ; but, upon the breaking out of 
 the civil war, he left Charles I. at York, 
 and went into Holland. The next year 
 he returned to England ; and, while his 
 brothers were exposing themselves in 
 battles and sieges, he paid his court to 
 the parliament, joined the two houses of 
 Westminster, and sat in the assembly of 
 divines. In 1648 he was restored to the 
 lower Palatinate, upon condition of his 
 quitting all right and title to the upper. 
 He died 28th August, 1600, and was suc- 
 ceeded in the electorate by his son Charles, 
 who dying without heirs 16th May, 1685, 
 the family became extinct, and the elect- 
 oral dignity with its appendages devolved 
 to the house of Newburgh- 
 
 The Pi'mcesi Elizabeth, eldest daughter 
 of the ill-fated king and queen of Bo- 
 hemia, was distinguished in early years' 
 for extraordinary genius, and became one 
 of the most illustrious women in history. 
 She corresponded upon abstruse subjects 
 with the celebrated Des Cartes. He says, 
 
1079 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 12. 
 
 1080 
 
 in the dedication to her of his ^' Prin- 
 cipia," that she was the only person he 
 had met with who perfectly understood 
 his works. Christina, queen of Sweden, 
 was conscious of her great knowledge. 
 She had many conferences with William 
 Penn, the legislator of Pennsylvania. He 
 has published in his " Travels'' several of 
 her letters to him. She presided as 
 abbess over the protestant nunnery of 
 Hervorden in Germany. 
 
 Her sister, the princess Louisa, ranks 
 as high among female artists as her sister 
 does among learned ladies. Gerard Hon- 
 thorst instructed the queen of Bohemia 
 and her family in painting. The works 
 of tlie princess Louisa are greatly es^ 
 teemed by the curious, not only for their 
 rarity but merit; and are in foreign cabi- 
 nets with the works of the first masters. 
 In 1 660 she professed herself of the Ro- 
 man Catholic religion, and was made 
 abbess of Maubuisson, at Ponthoise, near 
 Paris. She died in 1709 at the age of 
 eighty-six. 
 
 The princess Sophia, another daughter 
 of the king and queen of Bohemia, 
 became queen of Prussia, and mother of 
 George I., king of England. She was 
 mistress of every qualification that could 
 adorn a crown, and lived to a very ad- 
 vanced age. 
 
 Of these illustrious sisters it has been 
 observed, that Elizabeth was the most 
 learned, Louisa the greatest artist, and 
 Sophia the most accomplished lady in 
 Europe.* 
 
 There is a large collection of portraits 
 of the Palatine family at Combe abbey 
 in Warwickshire, the seat of lord Craven. 
 
 September II. — Daybreaks. . 3 32 
 Sun rises . . 5 33 
 — sets ... 6 27 
 Twilight ends . 8 28 
 Passion flower blows fully, and con- 
 tinues all the autumn. 
 
 Skfvtttmtv 12. 
 
 Septemberl2, 1798, died at St.Alban's, 
 aged eighty, John Kent, plumber and 
 glazier, but better known as the venerable 
 and intelligent clerk of the Abbey, which 
 place he filled nearly fifty-two years. In 
 him, the antiquary and the curious tra- 
 
 Granger, Noble. 
 
 veller lost their guide through the Abbey 
 church, the beauties of which he fami- 
 liarly pointed out, with great accuracy. 
 He was intimate with the learned Browne 
 Willis. Mr. Gough has noticed his 
 intelligence in the second volume of the 
 " Sepulchral Monuments of Great Bri- 
 tain j" and the rev. Peter Newcombe 
 expressed his thanks for the variety of 
 information he derived from him towards 
 his " History of the Abbey," accompanied 
 with a copy of that instructive and labo- 
 rious work. His veneration for the re- 
 mains deposited in tlie abbey often created 
 disputes ; the monks could not have taken 
 nore care of the shrine of St. Alban, than 
 Kftut did of the reliques of good duke 
 Humphrey; and he caused a wooden 
 stall to be made which inclosed the duke's 
 remains. Some years before Kent's 
 death, he suspected a gentleman, who 
 never passed through the town without 
 stopping to view the church, of having 
 taken a piece of bone from duke Hum- 
 phrey's tomb, and frequently mentioned 
 his suspicion to him, which the gentleman 
 as often answered with a smile. At 
 their last interview he> said, " Kent, I am 
 come for the last time to look at your 
 abbey;" and, when in the vestry, he 
 added, " I am come on purpose to de- 
 posit this piece of bone in that sacred 
 place from which it was taken; for I 
 could not depart easy with it in my pos- 
 session." In politics Mr. Kent was a 
 distinguished partisan of the " Blues," 
 and, from his spirit and independence, he 
 ■was called " Honest John." As a con- 
 vivial and social companion his company 
 was much courted. He annually enter- 
 tained the society of " College Youths," 
 of which he was a member, with his 
 favorite ditty, called "The Old .Courtier," 
 which also was annually called for at the 
 mayor's feast, and received by the nobility 
 and gentry with a thunder of applause. 
 In his official station as parish clerk, his 
 psalmody was excelled by no one, and 
 equalled by few, particularly in the old 
 hundredth psalm. He had a voice strong 
 and melodious, was a complete master of 
 church music, and was always pleased to 
 hear the congregation sing. When coun- 
 try choristers came from a neighbouring 
 parish to perform in the abbey, with 
 instruments termed by him a. box of 
 whistles, which the congregation could 
 not join, he, on those occasions, gave out 
 the psalm or anthem in this way ; " Sing 
 ye to the praise and glory of God." He 
 
1081 
 
 TME YEAR BOOK— SEPTEMBER IS. 
 
 1082 
 
 was rarely absent from his desk ; and, 
 notwithstanding, in June, 1793, he had a 
 first stroke of the palsy, which he called 
 a " body blow," and which much dis- 
 torted his mouth, and occasioned him to 
 stammer in conversation, yet, in worship, 
 it could not be discerned. His final 
 essay was two days before his death, on 
 occasion of the consecration of a pair of 
 colors to the St. Alban's Volunteers, by 
 the honorable Miss Grimstons, when he 
 sang the twentieth psalm with all the 
 strength and vivacity of youth. It was 
 well observed, in his funeral sermon, by 
 the worthy rector, that " on that day 
 nature seemed to have re-assumed her 
 throne ; and, as if she knew it was to be 
 his last eflFort, was determined it should 
 be his best." He was interred in the 
 abbey, in a spot marked by himself.* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 September 12. — Daybreaks. . 3 35 
 
 Sun rises . . 5 35 
 
 — sets ... 6 25 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 25 
 
 Wasps abundant. 
 
 S^evutnttv 13. 
 
 13th of September, 1769, between 
 three and four o'clock in the afternoon, 
 lieutenant George Spearing went into a 
 little wood called Northwoodside, about 
 three miles N. W. of Glasgow, with a 
 design to gather hazel-nuts, and fell into 
 an old coal-pit, seventeen yards deep, 
 which had been made through solid rock. 
 He was for some time insensible. Upon 
 recovering he found himself sitting with 
 the blood flowing from a wound in his 
 tongue, which he had bitten in the fall. 
 He was soon reconciled to his situation, 
 not doubting of being relieved in the 
 morning ; for the wood being small, and 
 near a populous city, it was much fre- 
 quented, especially in the nutting season, 
 and there were several footpaths leading 
 through it. At night it began to rain 
 violently : the pit was about five feet in 
 diameter, but, not having been worked 
 for several years, the passages were 
 choked up, and he was exposed to the 
 rain, and wetted completely through. In 
 this com'fortless condition he endeavoured 
 to take repose. A forked stick, found in 
 the pit, he placed diagonally against the 
 
 * Gents, Magaaiae, 
 
 side of the rock, to support his head as a 
 pillow, and occasionally his body, which 
 was much bruised. But, he says, after a 
 very disagreeable and tedious night, he 
 was somewhat cheered with the appear- 
 ance of daylight, and the melody of a 
 robin red-breast, which had perched 
 directly over the mouth of the pit. At 
 the distance of about a hundred yards, in 
 a direct line from the pit's mouth, there 
 was a water-mill, with the miller's house 
 nearer to the pit, and the road to the mill 
 still nearer. He could hear the horses 
 going this road to and from the mill, the 
 sound of human voices, and the ducks 
 and hens about the mill. He called on 
 every occasion with all his might, but to 
 no purpose; for the wind, which was 
 constantly high, blew in a line from the 
 mill to the pit, and his voice was carried 
 the contrary way. 
 
 Lieutenant Spearing has left a narrative 
 of the circumstances relating to his 
 perilous situation : — He says, " After two 
 or three days my appetite ceased, but my 
 thirst was intolerable; and, though it 
 almost constantly rained, yet I could not 
 till the third or fourth day preserve a 
 drop of it, as the earth at the bottom of 
 the pit sucked it up as fast as it ran 
 down. In this distress I sucked my 
 clothes; but from them I could extract 
 but little moisture. The shock I received 
 in the fall, together with the dislocation of 
 one of my ribs, kept me, I imagine, in a 
 continual fever. At last I discovered the 
 thigh-bone of a bull (which, I afterwards 
 heard, had fallen into the pit about 
 eighteen years before me), almost covered 
 with the earth. 1 dug it up; and the 
 large end of it left a cavity that the water 
 gradually drained into, but so slow that 
 it was a considerable time before I could 
 dip a nut-shell fiill at a time ; which I 
 emptied into the palm of my hand and so 
 drank it. The water now began to in- 
 crease pretty fast, so that on the fourth or 
 fifth day I had a sufficient supply ; and 
 this water was certainly the preservation 
 of my life." 
 
 On Saturday, the 16th, there fell but 
 little rain. He heard the voices of some 
 boys in the wood, and called aloud but in 
 vam, though they actually heard him ; 
 being prepossessed with an idle story of a 
 wild man being in the wood, they ran 
 away affrighted. He says, " Sunday, the 
 17th, was my birth day, when I com- 
 pleted my forty-first year; and I think it 
 was the next day that some of my ac- 
 
1033 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK —SEPTEMBER 14. 
 
 1084' 
 
 quaintance sent two or three porters out 
 purposely to search the pits for me. 
 These men went to the miller's house, 
 and made enquiry for me; but, on ac- 
 count of the very great rairi at the time, 
 they never entered the wood, but cruelly 
 returned to their employers, telling tliem 
 they had searched the pits, and that I 
 was not to be found." He enjoyed great 
 composure of mind, and on Tuesday, 
 the 19th, having then been six nights in 
 the pit, he, by way of amusement, combed 
 his wig on his knee, humming a tune. 
 
 At length, on the morning, Wednesday, 
 September 20, through the brambles and 
 bushes that covered the mouth of the pit, 
 he saw the sun shining brightly, and heard 
 the robin chanting his melodious strains, 
 with a confused noise of human voices, 
 which seemed to be approaching towards 
 the pit. He immediately called out, and 
 most agreeably surprised several of liis 
 acquaintance who were in search of him. 
 He says, " As soon as they heard my 
 voice, they all ran towards the pit, and I 
 could distinguish a well-known voice 
 exclaim, ' Good God ! he is still living ! ' 
 Another of them, though a very honest 
 North Briton, betwixt his surprise and joy, 
 could not help asking me in the Hibernian 
 style, ' If I were still living?' I told him 
 ' I was, and hearty too ;' and then gave 
 them particular directions how to proceed 
 in getting me out." At that juncture a 
 collier was passing -along the road, and, 
 hearing an unusual noise in the wood, 
 he eiitered it to learn the occasion. By his 
 assistance, and a rope from the mill, he 
 was soon drawn up. 
 
 Lieutenant Spearing proceeds to say, 
 — " Every morning while i was in the 
 pit I tied a knot in the corner of my 
 handkerchief, supposing that, if I died 
 there, and my body should be afterwards 
 found, the number of knots would certify 
 how many days I had lived. Almost the 
 first question my friends asked me was, 
 bow long I had been in the pit ? Imme- 
 diately I drew my handkerchief from my 
 body, and bade them count the knots. 
 They found seven, the exact number of 
 nights I had been there. We now hasted 
 out of the wood. I could walk without 
 support, but that was not allowed, each 
 person present striving to show me how 
 much they were rejoiced that they had 
 found me alive ^nd so well." He was 
 led to the miller's house, where he ate a 
 piece of toasted bread soaked in white 
 wine. The miller's wife made up a bed, 
 
 and he thought that nothing more was 
 wanting to liim than a refreshing sleep, 
 but he had to undergo greater sufferings 
 than he had yet endured. By the almost 
 continual rains, and the cold damp from 
 the wet ground, and the impossibility of 
 taking the least exercise in the pit to 
 keep up a proper circulation, his legs 
 were swollen and benumbed. He sent to 
 Glasgow for a physician and a surgeon. 
 Instead of ordering his legs into cold 
 water, and rubbing them with a coarse 
 towel, they applied hot bricks and 
 poultices, which produced mortification. 
 His nerves were much excited. Opposite 
 the river on which the mill stood there: 
 was a bleach-field, where the watchmen 
 in the night blew a horn to frighten 
 thieves; this he frequently heard when 
 he was in the pit; and very often, when in 
 a sound sleep at the miller's, he was 
 awakened by it in great horror, thinking 
 himself in the pit. He continued six 
 weeks at the miller's, when the roads 
 became too bad for the doctors to visit 
 him, and theri he was removed in a sedan 
 chair to his lodgings in Glasgow. By 
 this time his right foot had healed, but he 
 subsequently endured several months of 
 great pain with the left, and, being re- 
 duced to a mere skeleton, finally suffered 
 amputation below the knee. "Six weeks 
 after the amputation, I went out," lie 
 says, « in a sedan-chair, for the benefit of 
 the air, being exactly nine months from 
 the day I fell into the pit. Soon after, I 
 took lodgings in the country; where, 
 getting plenty of warm new milk, my 
 appetite and strength increased daily; 
 and to this day, I bless God, I do enjoy 
 perfect health ; and I have since been the 
 happy father of nine children. — Geoiige 
 Spearing. Greenwich Hospital, August 
 1, 1793."* 
 
 h. m. 
 September 13. — Day breaks . . 3 37 
 Sun rises . . 5 37 
 — sets ... 6 23 
 Twilight ends . 8 23 
 Crimson rudbeckia flowers, and con- 
 tinues till the middle of October. 
 
 ^tpttm'btv 14. 
 
 14th of September, 1714, died Thomas 
 Britton, the celebrated " musical small- 
 coal man." He was born near Higham 
 
 * Gentleman's Maga'Sino. 
 
tOM 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— SEPTEMBER 14. 
 
 lofie 
 
 Ferrers, Noithanaptonshire, and appren- 
 ticed in London to a dealer in small- 
 coal. He rented a stable near the gate 
 of the priory of St. John of Jerusalem, 
 Clerkenwell, and converted it into a 
 dwelling-house. There honest Tom car- 
 ried on his business, and recreated himself 
 in learning chemistry and music. He 
 became an adept in the rosicrusian 
 science, and excelled in many curious 
 arts and crafts. Being deeply read in 
 black-lettered lore, he gained considerable 
 fame, but never neglected his business. 
 Britton was seen in the morning, with his 
 sack and measure, crying small-coal; 
 and in the evening conducting a concert 
 in his rooms, which were almost too low 
 for his guests. So great was the attrac- 
 tion of his music-meetings that men of 
 fashion, and well-dressed ladies of high 
 rank, were fireqnently sesn climbing to 
 his loft, by a ladder, to regale their ears. 
 He never aimed at appearing more than 
 he was, and he was accustomed to ap- 
 pear in his check-shirt at a weekly 
 society of black-lettered literati, which 
 was attended by noblemen j leaving 
 his sack and measure at the door, he 
 entered the apartment in common with 
 the other members, and produced his 
 books, collected from stalls and shops in 
 blind alleys. His death was occasioned 
 by a ventriloquial friend, who met him, 
 and during a musical conversation pror 
 nounced these words distinctly as from a 
 distance : — " Thomas Britton, go home, 
 for thou shall die." Honest Tom, supr 
 posing the voice to have proceeded from 
 an angel, went home, depressed in spirits, 
 took to his bed, and died. He was 
 buried in the cemetery of Clerkenwell 
 church. After his death, his library, 
 which was considerable, and contained 
 many curious articles, together with his 
 musical collections, were sold by public 
 auction. His friend WoUaston pre- 
 vailed upon him to sit twice for his 
 portrait, one of which is in the British 
 Museum. He is represented in one of 
 these in a blue frock, with a small-coal 
 measure in his hand. In the other he is 
 tuning a harpsicord, with a violin hanging 
 on the side of the room; from this his 
 portrait was engraved for Hawkins's 
 " History of Music," but without the 
 accompaniments. Under Johnson's print 
 of him are these lines, which were written 
 by Prior to recommend Vertue to notice.* 
 
 • Noble. 
 
 I'hougli .docmed to SQiall-coal, yet to arts 
 
 allied j 
 Rich without wealth : and famous without 
 
 pride. 
 Music's best patron ; judge of books and men; 
 BelovM and honor'd by Apollo's train. 
 In Greece and Rome sure never did appear 
 So bright a genius, in so dark a sphere. 
 More of the man had artfully been savM 
 Had Kneller painted, and had Verlue 
 
 'grav'd. 
 
 Until now there has not occurred an 
 opportunity of inserting the following 
 communications. 
 
 French and English Manners. 
 
 Damng — The Fico — Kissing — Ear 
 Rings — Subre de bois. 
 
 Morley, near Leeds. 
 Jprit Qth. 1831. 
 
 Mr. Hone, — ^The time of year has now 
 come when our neighbours the French will 
 begin to think of turning out to enjoy their 
 beautiful village dance upon the green, 
 while our lower orders are turning into 
 the " small beer," or " Tom and Jerry 
 Shops," all over the kingdom. It is not 
 my intention to trouble you with a con- 
 trast between the rival nations as respects 
 sobriety, courtesy, honesty, wanton mis- 
 chief, and good manners, for I fear it will 
 little suit our national vanity and conceit; 
 besides it forms a mortifying subject for 
 reflection to protestants and some classes 
 of protestant dissenters. My object is 
 quite of another, and much more amusing 
 kind. It is, briefly, to show how much 
 may be learned from that fine people by 
 men of antiquarian taste and knowledge, 
 and I shall now touch upon some parti- 
 culars which have never, as I believe, been 
 told in print by any person whomsoever. 
 
 It is evident to me that our ancient 
 national manners and customs may be still 
 seen in France in many curious instances. 
 The greatest insult or sign of contempt 
 which a Frenchman can show to any one 
 is by a most significant action which I 
 cannot adequately express in words : he 
 puts his Thumb to his Mouth, seizing the 
 nail of it with his teeth as if about to bite 
 it, and he then draws out the arm towards 
 his adversary with a curious and very sig- 
 nificant grin. This was anciently the 
 practice in England. The Thumb in this 
 instance represented a Fig, and the action 
 expressed " I don't care a Fig for you," 
 an expression which is still retained : it 
 was called giving a man " the fico." In 
 
1087 
 
 THE YEAR fiOOK.— SEPTEMBER 15. 
 
 1088 
 
 Yorkshire we have amongst our lowest 
 orders a still more contemptuous and 
 ludicrous word as a substitute for " Fig," 
 and one which will make every Yorkshire 
 Man, who reads this, laugh heartily. 
 But to prove that this " action" was an- 
 ciently in England, as it is now in France, 
 in Shakspeare's play of Romeo and Juliet 
 " I will bite my thumb at them, which is 
 a disgrace to them if they bear it."-^- 
 " Dags and Pistols! — to bite his thumb at 
 me !" Again — " Behold I see contempt 
 marching forth, giving me the Fico" — 
 (Lodges Wit's Miserie 1596.) 
 
 To bite the Ear, on the other hand, 
 was, anciently, an expression of endear- 
 ment ; and it is, still, so far retained by 
 the French that to pull a man, gently, by 
 the ear is the most sure token of good 
 will. This, as appears from Mr. O'Meara's 
 first vol. of " Napoleon in exile," p. 1 84 
 and 213^ was the practice of that extra- 
 ordinary man when in high good humour. 
 Indeed I have known persons of great re- 
 spectability pull one by the ear, gently, 
 in England. But formerly it was common, 
 as appears from the plays both of Shak- 
 speare and Jonson. 
 
 Another specimen of our ancient man- 
 ners is seen in the French embrace. The 
 gentlemen, and others of the male sex, 
 lay hands on the shoulders, and touch 
 the sides of each other's cheek ; but on 
 being introduced to a lady they say to 
 her Father, Brother, or Friend, " perniettex 
 moi," and salute each of her cheeks. 
 Hence, as I take it, has come the expres- 
 sion of "Kissing Comfits," which were 
 sugar plumbs, perfumed to make the 
 breath sweet. This appears from Mas- 
 singers " Very Woman — " 
 
 " Faith, search our pocltets, and if you find 
 
 there 
 Comfits of ambergrease to help our KissM 
 Conclude us faulty" &c. 
 
 And was not this the custom iii England 
 in Elizabeth's reign ? Let us read one 
 of the epistles of the learned Erasmus, 
 which being translated is in part as 
 follows: 
 
 " Although Faustus, if you knew 
 
 the advantages of Britain, truly you would 
 hasten thither with wings to your feet ; and, 
 if your gout would not permit, you would 
 wish you possessed the heart of Dcedalus. 
 For, just to touch On one thing out of 
 many here, there are lasses with heavenly 
 faces ; kind, obliging, and you would far 
 prefer them to all your Muses. There is. 
 
 besides, a practice never to be sufGciently 
 commended. If you go to any place yo'^ 
 are received with a Zeiss by all-^if you de- 
 part on a journey, you are dismissed with 
 a kiss — you return — kisses are exchanged 
 —they come to visit you-^a kiss the first 
 thing — they leave you — you kiss them all 
 round. Do they meet you any where — 
 kisses in abundance. Lastly, wherever 
 you move, there is iiothing but kisses — and 
 if you, Faustus, had but once tasted them I 
 how soft they are, how fragrant / on my 
 honor you would wish not to reside here 
 for ten years only, but for life."- 
 
 Frenchmen also wear Ear-rings as did 
 the coxcombs in Shakspeare's time. I 
 cannot just now quote my authorities for 
 this assertion, but you may rely on it as 
 matter of fact. 
 
 The most usual common oath in France 
 is " Sabre de beis," or swearing by a sword 
 of wood. " The singular mixture of reli- 
 gious and military fanaticism," says Nares, 
 " which arose from the Crusades, gave rise 
 to the extraordinary custom of taking a 
 solemn oath upon a sword. In a plain 
 sword the separation between the blade 
 and the hilt was usually a strait transverse 
 bar ; which, suggesting the idea of a cross, 
 added to the devotion which every true 
 knight felt for his favorite weapon, and evi- 
 dently led to the custom of swearing upon 
 the sword, of which the instances are too 
 numerous to be collected." The meaning 
 of " Sabre de bois" may therefore be well 
 understood, especially by people well read 
 in history ; and its connexion with our 
 indent manners will be immediately per- 
 ceived, by our ancient oaths all referring 
 to the cross. The addition of de bois set- 
 tles the question. 
 
 I remain, Sir, 
 Yours very respectfiilly, 
 
 NOREISSON SCATCHERD. 
 
 September 14.- 
 
 -Day breaks . 
 Sun rises 
 
 h m. 
 3 39 
 5 39 
 
 — sets . . . 6 21 
 Twilight ends . 8 23 
 Rough rudbeckia flowers. 
 
 i^eptftnlifr 15. 
 
 The Season. 
 The congregations of swallows and 
 martins increase, and they alight in thou- 
 sands on the roofs of houses, and other 
 buildings, previous to their departure.* 
 
 * Dr. Forster's Perennial Calendar 
 
1089 
 
 THK YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER IS. 
 
 iOOO 
 
 MUIRHOUSE, EAGLESHAM, RENFREWSHIRE : 
 
 THE BIRTH-PLACE OF ROBERT POLLOK 
 
 In humble dwellinf; bom, retired, remote, 
 In rural quietude, 'mongst hiUs and streams 
 And melancholy deserts, where the sun 
 Saw as he passed a shepherd only, here 
 And there, watching his flock ' ■ 
 
 . or tne T ear Book.J 
 
 On the 15th of September, 1827, died 
 Robert Pollok, author of "The Course of 
 Time, a Poem in ten books." He was 
 bom at Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, in 1799, 
 " of parents whom God made of kindest 
 heart." They appear lo have been en- 
 gaged in agricultural pursuits, and to 
 have moved in a sphere of life by no 
 means elevated, possessing, in the absence 
 of worldly wealth, that best of all riches, 
 the testimony of a good conscience and 
 the fevor of God. 
 
 It seems that whilst a mere boy he was 
 remarkably thoughtful, seldom jgining in 
 those frivolities which usually characlerize 
 that period of life ; and from a very early 
 age evinced a relish for the beauties of 
 nature, and a capacity of enjoying them, 
 
 Vol. I.- -35 
 
 POLLOK. 
 
 rarely to be met with. The sctmery of 
 " Scotia's northern battlement of hills," 
 connected as it was with many important 
 points in his history, and associated with 
 feelings and incidents of unusual interest, 
 seems to have exercised an influen ce over 
 him which the trials of after years failed 
 to wear away. 
 
 All forms of beauty, gentle or sublime, 
 impressed him with feelings which belong 
 peculiarly to those who look on nature 
 in connection with that gracious Power 
 which called it at first into existence, and, 
 sanctifying it by his condescending ap- 
 proval, pronounced it to be " very good." 
 He viewed them with the sincere desire 
 that all which met the eye might touch 
 the heart, and seen, like a bright enchant- 
 ment through its overflowings, instruct, 
 elevate, and purify the uflections. 
 2N 
 
IWI 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 15, 
 
 1092 
 
 " His spirit drank 
 Tbc spectacle ; sensation, soul, and form 
 All melted into him ; they swallowed up 
 His animal being ; in others did he live. 
 And by them did he live; they were his life,"* 
 
 The immediate neighbourhood of his 
 natal place presented no features of pecu- 
 liar beauty, and seems to have been en- 
 deared to him chiefly by the associations 
 with which it stood connected. Amongst 
 the most remarkable, he refers in his poem 
 to those early lessons of piety with which 
 his mind became impressed amidst the 
 quiet solitude in which he spent the 
 former portion of his life. These seem to 
 have powerfully influenced his feelings, 
 and quickened the natural susceptibility 
 of his mind, communicating a largeness 
 of soul and elevation of thought which 
 fitted him -equally to expatiate on the 
 vast, and to iitid abundant matter for 
 praise in the minute. 
 
 " Early had he learnt 
 To reverence the volume that displays 
 The mystery, the life which cannot die j 
 But in the mountains did he feel his faith. 
 Responsive to the writing, all things there 
 Breathed immortality, revolving life, 
 And greatness still revolving, infinite ; 
 There littleness was not j the least of tilings 
 Seemed infinite ; and there his spirit shaped 
 Her prospects : nor did he believe — he saw. 
 What wonder if his being thus became 
 Sublime and comprehensive ! Low desires. 
 Low thoughts, had there no place ; yet was 
 
 his heart 
 Lowly : for he was meek ia gratitude,"* 
 
 Such seems to have been the early 
 career of Robert PoUok. He was not, 
 however, considered a youth of very 
 great promise, though he seems to have 
 formed no mean estimate of his own 
 abilities. With a feeling peculiar to his 
 countrymen, he indulged in dreams cf 
 future eminence ; and labored diligently 
 in thp nath which seemed to promise a 
 sure &dt toilsome passage to glory, honor, 
 and earthly immortality. But the praise 
 of men, for which he had sodeterrainately 
 striven, presently appeared in all its hol- 
 lowness, to one whose gaze had now 
 become fixed on the steadier and more 
 substantial brightness of tliatcrown which 
 fadeth not away. He renounced those 
 hopes which had' before influenced all his 
 ff.onduct, and sought for distinction where 
 tlone it can be found — in the approval of 
 that God whose favor is life, and whose 
 
 * Wordsworth. 
 
 loving kindness is better than life. He 
 has described in his third book the dim- 
 ness and indecision characterizing this 
 portion of his life, with a felicity of expres- 
 sion and energy of feeling, that, whilst tliey 
 prove his lyre to have been his heart, 
 evidently testify, that the faculties which 
 God has given us, when unhesitatingly 
 resigned to Him again, with the sincere 
 desire that they may be employed simply 
 and unreservedly in his service, shall be 
 multiplied manifold, and accomplish in- 
 finitely more than the loftiest stretch of 
 human study or ingenuity ever yet com- 
 passed. Lest it should be thought that I 
 am not warranted in asserting thus much, 
 I must refer to that notice of the work 
 which appeared in the "Eclectic Review'' 
 for October 1827, in which the reviewer 
 makes this manly avowal :— " We cannot 
 refuse credit to the author's representa- 
 tion, that he has devoutly sought, not in 
 feigned numbers but on his bended knees, 
 the unction of the Holy One, which will 
 sufficiently account for his having so far 
 transcended tlie loftiest flight of earthly 
 wing." 
 
 Mr. PoUok, being designed for the. 
 church, studied theology under the Rev. 
 Dr. Dick, of Glasgow. His health • 
 became seriously impaired, and so for- 
 midable were the advances of disease that 
 the exertion of delivering a sermon, on 
 the 3d of May, 1827, obliged him to keep 
 his bed for several days afterwards' 
 Those who were present on that occasion 
 bear testimony to Ihe hallowed tone of 
 eloquence which distinguished that dis- 
 course, and the zeal and fearlessness with 
 which it was delivered. It now became 
 evident that the mighty workings of a 
 mind thus gifted, and absorbed in the 
 contemplation of mysteries which tran- 
 scend the scope of archangel's intellect, 
 must prove too much for the body which 
 enshrined it, already worn and wasted by 
 disease, and destined, as the sequel 
 showed, in a few months to return to its 
 primitive elements. Such means were 
 consequently adopted as circumstances 
 seemed to require, but without success. 
 At length a tour to Italy was resolved on, 
 and our author leflScotland in the following 
 August, but had only proceeded to South- 
 ampton before his malady presented such 
 a formidable aspect as precluded all hope 
 of recovery. He died at Shirley Common, 
 near that place, on the day abovs stated ; 
 and as a fact that sets the emptiness of 
 earthly glory forcibly before us, it may be 
 
1093 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTRMBRR 1.5. 
 
 1091 
 
 well to menlion, that the same review 
 which passed sentence on his poem re- 
 corded also the lamented decease of its 
 author. 
 
 " The Course of Time'* was originally 
 published without any preface, dedication, 
 introduciioQ, advertisemeiit, or afguinent 
 whatever. Its merits, however, soon 
 oecame known, and it passed rapidly 
 through several large editions. The 
 Eclectic reviewer thinks it " the finest 
 poem which has appeared in any lan- 
 guage since Paradise Lost," and adds, 
 "without meaning to intimate that it 
 discovers geiiius superior to that of Mil- 
 ton, it is, of the two, the poem of which 
 we should ourselves prefer to have been 
 the author." 
 
 It certainly exhibits talents of no com- 
 mon order — a loftiness of thought — a 
 sweetness of feeling — a boldness and 
 energy of expression — a devotedness of 
 spirit— a majesty of diction — an authority 
 irresistible — a noble singleness and sim- 
 plicity of aim, and a closeness of reason- 
 ing that sliuts us up to the contemplation 
 of eternal truths. 
 
 Perhaps the first and second books 
 possess fewer attractions than those which 
 follow. The fearful sublimities which 
 distinguish a considerable part of them 
 (though the language may in one or two 
 instances degenerate into angry declama- 
 tion), and the vivid pictures of those 
 stern and unpalateable realities existing 
 beyond the grave, may well give umbrage 
 to the fastidious reader who has been 
 accustomed only to the " windy rhyme" 
 of men-pleasing poets, and cause him to 
 turn in disgust from the unbending pro- 
 test exhibited against him. 
 
 The lofty tone assumed by our author 
 rests not in a single instance on any thing 
 approaching to human authority, but 
 speaks out its thunders in His right before 
 whom the nations are as grasshoppers. 
 He pleads as one having authority, and 
 not as one who only claim/! it. A tongue 
 enriched with all utterance, and a heart 
 enkindled at the heavenly altar, are con- 
 spicuous in almost every page of this stu- 
 pendous poem, which sets in the full light 
 of Revelation the pretence and rottenness 
 of poor humanity under all its varied forms 
 and circumstances. It tells the truth " so 
 ioldly, plainly, perfectly distinct," that 
 ihe most captious cannot gainsay it, or the 
 most inveterate resist itsforce. It blends 
 the independent dignity of Omnipotence 
 ^'ith the deep humility of utter weakness. 
 
 It pours forth its " manly music" in deep 
 but fluent numbers, betraying a loftiness 
 of soul that cannot brook the solemn 
 follies of mankind, and fears not to 
 trample unsparingly onits splendid abomi- 
 nations. It carries with it, in short, a 
 power which must satisfy every reader 
 that the author was one whom the trutli 
 had made free indeed, and who, fearin;; 
 God only, stood " unshaken, unseduced, 
 unterrified," by the cunning craftiness of 
 the hypocrite, or the open enmity of the 
 profane. 
 
 23. ^. 
 
 A Portrait of Robert PpUok " engraved 
 by T. A. Dean, from the only drawing from 
 life ever taken," embellishes the " Pious 
 Minstrel," a collection of poetry pub- 
 lished by Tilt. 
 
 Besides the " Course of Time," wliicTi 
 has passed through nine editions, Mr, 
 PoUok wrote " Ralph Gemrael, a Tale 
 for Youth," and "The Persecuted Family, 
 a narrative of the Sufferings of the Pres- 
 byterians, in the reign of Charles II.," 
 which were reprinted when his name 
 became distinguished. Some verses en- 
 titled " Horrible Things" are ascribed to 
 liim. They appeared first in a defunct 
 periodical work, the " British Magazine," 
 and, though they possess no merit, were 
 transplanted into many of those ephem- 
 eral publications which trust every thing 
 to the " magic of a name." 
 
 Pollok's Native Scenery. 
 
 Nor do I of that isle remember aiiglit 
 Of prospect more sublime aad beautiful^ 
 Than Scotia's northern battlement of hills. 
 Which first I from my father's house beheld. 
 At dawn of life ; beloved in memory .still. 
 And standard still of rural imagery. 
 "What most resembles them the fairest seems, 
 Aud stirs the eldest sentiments of bliss ; 
 And, pictured on the tablet of my heart. 
 Their distant shapes etcnially remain. 
 And in my dreams their cloudy tops arise. 
 
 Four trees T pass not by, 
 
 Which o'er our house tbeir evening shadow 
 
 threw ; 
 Three asli, and one of elm. Tall trees tbey 
 
 wens 
 And old, and had been old a century 
 Before my day. None living could say auglit 
 About their youth; but they were goodly trees ; 
 And oft I wondered, as I sat and thought 
 Beneath their summer shade, or, in the night 
 2 N 2 
 
1095 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 16. 
 
 1096 
 
 Of winter, heard the spirits of the wind 
 Growling among their boughs, — ^how they had 
 
 grown 
 So high, in such a rough tempesttnus place ; 
 And when a hapless branch, torn by the blast. 
 Fell down, I mourned, as if a friend had 
 
 fallen. 
 
 These 1 distinctly hold in memory still. 
 And all the desert scenery around. 
 Nor strange, that recollection there should 
 
 dwell. 
 Where first I heard of God's redeeming love ; 
 First felt and reasoned, loved and was beloved ; 
 And first awoke the harp to holy song : 
 
 To hoar and green there was enough of joy. 
 Hopes, friendships, charities.and warm pursuit. 
 Gave comfortable flow to youthful blood. 
 And there were old remembrances of dayd. 
 When, on the glittering dews of orient life. 
 Shone sunshine hopes, nnfailed, unperjured 
 
 then: 
 And there were childish sports, and schoolboy 
 
 feasts. 
 And schoolboy spots, and earnest vows of 
 
 love. 
 Uttered, when passion's boisterous tide ran 
 
 high. 
 Sincerely uttered, though but seldom kept : 
 And there were angel looks, and sacred hours 
 Of rapture, hours that in a moment passed. 
 And yet were wished to last for evermore j 
 And venturous exploits, and hardy deeds. 
 And bargains shrewd, achieved in manhood's 
 
 prime ; 
 And thousand recollections, gay and sweet. 
 
 Most fit was such a place for musing men. 
 Happiest sometimes when musing without aim. 
 It was, indeed, a wonderous sort of bliss 
 The lonely bard enjoyed, when forth he 
 
 walked. 
 Unpurposed ; stood, and Knew not why ; sat 
 
 down. 
 And knew not where j arose, and knew not 
 
 when; 
 Had eyes, and saw not ; ears, and . nothing 
 
 heard ; 
 And sought — sought neither heaven nor 
 
 earth — sought nought, 
 Nor meant to think ; but ran, meantime, 
 
 through vast 
 Of visionary things, fairer than ought 
 That was ; and saw the distant tops of thoughts. 
 Which men of common stature never saw. 
 Greater than aught that largest words could 
 
 hold. 
 Or give idea of, to those who read." 
 
 Courte of Time. 
 
 .^.^^— — h. ra. 
 
 September 15< — Day breaks . . 3 42 
 
 Sun rises , . 5 41 
 
 — sets ... 6 19 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 18 
 
 Asfaricus verucosus appears in abun- 
 dance. 
 
 Pollok's Musikgs. 
 
 Pleasant were many scenes, but most to me 
 The solitude of vast extent, untouched 
 By hand of art, where Nature sowed, herself. 
 And reaped her crops ; whose garments were 
 
 the clouds ; 
 Whose minstrels, brooks ^ whose lamps, the 
 
 moon and stars ; 
 Whose organ-choir, the voice of many waters ; 
 Whose banquets, morning dews j whose heroes, 
 
 storms j 
 Whose warriors, mighty winds ; whose lovers, 
 
 flowers ; 
 Whose orators, the thunderbolts of God ; 
 Whose palaces, the everlasting hills ; 
 Whose ceiling, heaven's unfathomable blue -, 
 And from whose rocky turrets, battle^ high. 
 Prospect immense spread out on all sides 
 
 round. 
 Lost now between the welkin and the main. 
 Now walled with hilts that slept abovp the 
 
 storm. 
 
 ^tvumbtv 16. 
 
 Aelitekative Advertisement. 
 
 This date is attached to the following 
 announcement, printed as a handsome 
 hand-bill, which appeared at Manchester 
 in 1829, — viz. 
 
 Spanker, 
 The property of 0*» D**. 
 
 Saturday, the 16th of September next, 
 will be sold, or set up for sale, at Skibber- 
 deen, 
 
 A strong, staunch, steady, sound, stout, 
 safe, sinewy, serviceable, strapping, sup- 
 ple, swift, smart, sightly, sprightly, 
 spirited, sturdy, shining, sure-footed, 
 sleek, smooth, spunky, well-skinned, 
 sized, and shaped, sorrel steed, of super- ■ 
 lative symmetry, styled Spanker; with 
 small Star and snip, square-sided, slender- 
 shouldered, sharp-sighted, and steps sin- 
 gularly stately ; Jree from strain, sprain, 
 spavin, spasms, stringhalt, sciatica, stag- 
 gers, strangles, seeling, sellander, surfeit, 
 seams, strumous-swellings, sorrances, 
 scratches, splint, squint, scurf, sores, 
 scattering, shuffling, shambling-gait, or 
 symptoms of sickness of any sort. He it 
 neither stiff-mouthed, shabby-coated, 
 sinew-shrunk, spur-galled, saddle-backed, 
 ahell-toothed, slim-gutted, surbated, skin- 
 
1097 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 17. 
 
 1098 
 
 scabbed, short-winded, splay-footed, or 
 shoulder-slipped ; and is sound in the 
 sword -point and stifle-joint. Has neither 
 sick spleen, sleeping evil, set-iast, snag- 
 gle-teeth, sand-crack, subcutaneous sores, 
 ur .^battered hoofs ; nor is he sour, sulky, 
 surly, stubborn, or sullen in temper. 
 Neither shy nor skittish, slow, sluggish, or 
 stupid. He never slips, strips, strays, 
 stalks, starts, stops, shakes, snivels, 
 snuiHes, snorts, stumbles, or stocks, in his 
 stall or stable, and scarcely or seldom 
 sweats. Has a showy, stylish, switch tail, 
 or stern, and a safe set of shoes on ; can 
 feed on stubble, sainfoin, sheaf-oats, 
 straw, sedge, or Scotch-grass. Carries 
 sixteen stone with surprising speed in his 
 stroke over a six-foot sod or stone wall. 
 His sire was the Sly Sobebsides on a 
 sister of Spindleshanks by Sampson, a 
 sporting son of Sparkler, who won the 
 sweep-stakes and subscription-plate last 
 session at Sligo. His selling price sixty- 
 seven pounds, sixteen shillings, and six 
 pence, sterling. 
 
 Horse-racing was established in the 
 reign of James I., with nearly all the 
 rules for training, physicking, carrying 
 weights, and running for prizes, as at pre- 
 sent. A silver bell was the usual prize; 
 hence the proverb " bear the bell." 
 
 h, m. 
 September 16. — Daybreaks. . 3 44 
 Sun rises '. . 5 43 
 — sets ... 6 17 
 Twilight ends . 8 16 
 Michaelmas daisies flower in warm si- 
 tuations. 
 
 §bsvtm^tv 17. 
 
 The Ephemeron. 
 
 One of my young friends, to whom I 
 had been the day before explaining the 
 structure of some minute vegetables of the 
 fungus kind, called upon me the evening 
 before last, to tell me of a discovery he 
 had just made of a new and beautiful 
 plant of this lowly class, and begged I 
 would direct the succeeding morning walk 
 to the place of its growth. 
 
 He led me to a brook near Kentish- 
 town ; over a narrow part of which an 
 antique willow, declining under the infir- 
 mities of age, and robbed of half the earth 
 that used at once to support and supply 
 
 nourishment to its roots, by the effects of 
 the undermining stream, which extended 
 its slant trunk, and spread every way its 
 tortuous branches. 
 
 The youth mouuted the little ascent to 
 the head of the tree with all that warmth 
 that attends the pride of a discovery, and, 
 pointing to a dropping bough which hung 
 immediately over the water, showed me a 
 multitude of his favorite objects. I dis- 
 cove-ed at first sight what they were ; but, 
 as information always remains longest 
 when it is the effect of the person's own 
 observations, I took out my pocket micro- 
 scope, and, desiring the youth to cut off a 
 piece of the branch on which what he 
 called the plants were placed, separated 
 one of them from it, and, adapting it to 
 the glass, gave it into his hand for exami- 
 nation. 
 
 It was not half a minute before he burst 
 out into an exclamation, " How have I 
 been deceived I As I am alive, the egg 
 of some animal I" 
 
 While he was yet speaking, I had fixed 
 my eye upon a fly employed on another 
 part of one of the branches, already loaded 
 with these bodies, in a manner that per- 
 fectly explained what was going forward. 
 
 I led him to the properest place for 
 making the necessary observations, and 
 we had the pleasure to see the whole pro- 
 cess of their formation. The creature pre- 
 sently applied the extremity of her tail, to 
 which, at that instant, there hung a drop 
 of a glutinous fluid, close to the branch. 
 She by this means lodged a particle of li- 
 quid glue, as it were, on its bark; from 
 this, raising her hinder part, very slowly, 
 to the height of three quarters of an inch, 
 she drew after her a thread of the liquid, 
 which almost immediately hardened in 
 the air into a firm and solid substance, 
 capable of supporting itself erect. She 
 paused a few moments, while it acquired 
 a sufficient firmness for her purpose, 
 and then deposited upon its summit an 
 egg of an oblong figure, milk-white in 
 color, and covered with the same gluey 
 moisture. The egg became fixed in au 
 instant on the top of its slender pedestal, 
 and the fly went on depositing more in the 
 same manner. 
 
 A cluster of these eggs, regularly sup- 
 ported on pedicles of the length of small 
 pins, and ai'ising each from a broad shin- 
 ing base on the bark, had given my young 
 botanist the idea of a set of little fungi ; 
 but, on examining the first that came to 
 hand before the microscope, it proved lo 
 
1099 
 
 niE YEAR DOOK.— SEPTEMBER ir. 
 
 1100 
 
 be big Willi life : an egg just disclosing a 
 fine white worm. 
 
 Nature has so provided for the winged 
 tribe of insecls, that they all of them pass 
 a part of their lives, and that, indeed, 
 much the greatest part, in form of reptiles; 
 their wings, their eyes, and the rest of 
 their wonderful apparatus, are too delicate 
 and tender to be trusted to the air imme- 
 diately from the egg : tlie creature is 
 therefore covered with a peculiar skin, 
 nndev which it wears the form of a mag- 
 got, a worm, or a caterpillar, till, at the 
 destined period, when all the parts are 
 grown firm, and ready to perform their 
 several offices, the perfect animal appears 
 in the form of Us parent, out of the dis- 
 guise of its reptile state. 
 
 The worms that are thus produced from 
 the eggs of beetles, and are the disguised 
 forms of the beetle brood, feed on wood : 
 the caterpillars, which are the reptile state 
 of the butterflies, feed on different sub- 
 stances. It is the fate of the worm, hatched 
 from the egg of this peculiar species, to 
 live under water, protected by the covert 
 of a clay shed in the bank, and there to 
 feed on lesser insects that inhabit the 
 njud ; when the time of its appearing 
 under the fly state approaches, it leaves 
 the water, and the perfect insect bursts 
 from its case on dry land. 
 
 The life of the creature in this winged 
 state is but of a few hours' duration ; the 
 continuation of the species is all the office 
 to which the economy of the animal is 
 destined. The female is prompted by 
 nature to get rid of her load, and instinct 
 points out to her that the young to be 
 hatched from her eggs should find their 
 support in the water; but, were she to 
 endeavour to lay them upon the surface 
 of the fluid, she would probably be 
 drowned in the attempt. If she even suc- 
 ceeded, their thin coats would be rotted 
 by the moisture, or become a prey to fish 
 and a thousand other devourers. She 
 therefore artfully suspends them on trees 
 that grow over waters. If they were de- 
 posited close upon the bark, they would 
 be in the way of mites, and other destroy- 
 ers; and if, until the hatching, they es- 
 caped these, the' young worms might 
 remain upon the branches till they perish- 
 ed of hunger, frotn ignorance that the 
 food for tiieir necessities was below. 
 Whereas, in this careful disposition of 
 the eggs, they are out of the reach of all 
 the insect tribe that crawl upon the tree ; 
 and are no sooner hatched than the c-ggs 
 
 the tiny worms neeessarily fall into tne 
 water, where every thing requisite is ore 
 vided for their sustenance. 
 
 Cicero, in the first book of his Tiisculan 
 Questions, finely exposes the vaiii |udg- 
 ment we are apt to form of tU<j Ui.imun 
 of human life. In illustrating' lji» Jcgu- 
 ment, he quotes a passage of natri.al His- 
 tory from Aristotle, concerning a species 
 of insects on the banks of the river Hy- 
 panis, which never out-live the day 
 wherein they are born. 
 
 To pursue the thoughts of this elegant 
 writer; let us .suppose that one of the most 
 robust of these llypanians (so famed in 
 history) was in a manner coeval with time 
 itself; that he began to exist at the break 
 of day; and that, from the uncommon 
 strength of his constitution, he had been 
 able to show himself active in life through 
 the numberless minutes of ten or twelve 
 hours. 
 
 Through so long a series of seconds, he 
 must have acquired vast wisdom in his way, 
 from observation and experience. Look- 
 ing upon his fellow-creatures, who died 
 about noon, to have been happily delivered 
 from the many inconveniences of old age ; 
 he can perhaps recount to his grandson 
 a surprising tradition of actions, before 
 any records of their nation were extant. 
 The young swarm, who may be advanced 
 one hour in life, approach his person with 
 respect, and listen to his improving dis- 
 course. Every thing he says will seem 
 wonderful to this short-lived generation, 
 The compass of a day will be esteemed 
 the whole duration of time ; and the first 
 dawn of light will, in their chronology, be 
 styled the great sera of their creation. 
 
 Let us now suppose that this venerable 
 insect, this Nestor of Hypanis, should a 
 little before his death, and about sun-set, 
 send for all his descendants, his friends, 
 and his acquaintance ; out of the desire he 
 may have to impart his last thoughts to 
 them, and admonish them with his departs 
 ing breath. They meet, perhaps, under 
 the spacious shelter of a mushroom ; and 
 the dying sage addresses himself to them 
 after the following rnatmer : — 
 
 "Friends and fellow-citizens! I perceive 
 the longest life must have an end ; the 
 period of mine is now at hand : neither 
 do I repine at my fate, since my great 
 age has become a burden, and there is 
 nothing new to me under the sun. The 
 calamities and revolutions I have seen in 
 my country; the manifold private misfor- 
 
noi 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 13. 
 
 1102 
 
 'unes to which we are all liable ; and the 
 Mai diseases incident to our race ; have 
 abundantly taught me this lesson — ^that no 
 happiness can be secure nor lasting 
 which is placed in things that are out of 
 our power. Great is the uncertainty of 
 life! a whole brood of infants has perished 
 in a moment by a keen blast ; shoals of 
 our straggling youth have been swept into 
 the waves by an unexpected breeze : 
 what wasteful deluges have we suffered 
 from a sudden shower ! our strongest 
 holds are not proof against a storm of 
 Iiail ; and even a dark cloud makes the 
 stoutest heart quail. 
 
 " I have lived in the hrst ages, and con- 
 versed with insects of a larger size and 
 stronger make, and (T must add) of greater 
 virtue, than any can boast of in the pre- 
 sent generation. I must conjure you to 
 give yet farther credit to my latest words, 
 when I assure you that yonder sun, 
 which now appears westward beyond the 
 water, and seems not to be far distant 
 from the earth, in my remembrance stood 
 in the middle of the skyi and shot his 
 beams directly upon us. The world was 
 much more enlightened in those ages, and 
 the air much warmer. Think it not 
 dotage in me if I affirm that glorious 
 being moves : I saw his first setting out in 
 the east; and I began my race of life near 
 the time when he began his iinmense ca- 
 reer. He has for several ages advanced 
 along the sky with vast heat, and unparal- 
 leled brightness ; but now, by his declen- 
 sion, and a sensible decay (more especially 
 of late) in his vigor, I foresee that all 
 nature must fail in a little time, and that 
 the creation will lie buried in darkness in 
 less than a century of minutes. 
 
 "Alas! my friends, how did I once 
 (latter myself with the hopes of abiding 
 here for ever! How magnificent are the 
 cells which I hollowed out for myself! 
 What confidence did I repose in the firm- 
 ness and spring of my joints, and in the 
 strength of my pinions ! But I have lived 
 enough to nature, and even to glory : 
 neither will any of you whom I leave be- 
 hind have equal satisfaction in life, in the 
 dark, declining age, which T see is already 
 begun." 
 
 This fiction, founded upon the thought 
 of Cicero, will not seem extravagant to 
 those who are acquainted with the manner 
 of instruction practised by the early teach- 
 ers of mankind. Solomon sends the 
 sluggard to the ant; and, after his exam- 
 ple, we may send the ambitious or the 
 
 covetous man, who seems to overlook the 
 shortness and uncertainty of life, to the 
 little animals upon the banks of the Hy- 
 panis — let him consider their transitory 
 state, and be wise. We^ like the ephemeri, 
 have but a day to live ; the morning, and 
 noon, and the evening of life, is the whole 
 portion of our time ; many perish in the 
 very dawn ; and the man, out of a million, 
 who lingers on to the evening twilight, 
 is not accounted happy.* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 September 17. — ^Day breaks . . 3 46 
 
 Sun rises . . 5 45 
 — sets . . . 6 15 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 14 
 Rue flowers again. 
 
 Sk^temtev 18. 
 
 18th of September, 1830, died, at the 
 age of 52 years, William Hazlitt, a writer 
 of great eminence and ability. He was a 
 native of Maidstone. His boyhood was 
 chiefly spent in Shropshire, Devonshire, 
 and Wiltshire. At an early age he came 
 to London, and employed much time in 
 painting, or rather in attaining to a know- 
 ledge of the art, than in perseveringjy 
 applying it. He soon relinquished the 
 pencil for the pen, which he wielded with 
 distinguished power ; yet, when he saw 
 the works of the great masters assembled 
 at Paris, a fondness for his first pursuits 
 came over him, and he occupied an easlo 
 at the Louvre in copying portraits by 
 Titian. He brought his pictures to Eng- 
 land. They obtained unqualified praise 
 from Northcote, and for a time were pps- 
 sessed by Haydon ; but were seen by few 
 other artists, and are now dispersed. 
 
 Mr. Hazlitt wrote to live, and therefore 
 his pen was never idle. His life will be 
 published by his son, who is colleicting 
 and arranging materials for that purpose. 
 It is to be accompanied by his father's 
 unpublished pieces, and a portrait of him 
 from an excellent likeness. The latter 
 years, and especially the last months of 
 his existence, were marked by circum- 
 stances of peculiar interest. 
 
 — ' h. m. 
 
 September 18. — ^Day breaks . . 3 49 
 
 Sun rises . . 5 46 
 
 — sets . . . 6 14 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 11 
 
 Eatable fungus found. 
 
 • Sir John Hill. 
 
U03 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-SEPTEMBRR IS. 
 
 MO'l 
 
 RUSH BEARING IN LANCASHIRE. 
 
 This erijjiaving is derived from sketches 
 accompanying llie following communica- 
 tion, wliicli was originally designed by a 
 respected correspondent for the Every- 
 Hay Book ; but, which, in expectation of 
 other contributions on the same subject, 
 was not inserted in that work. 
 
 , Rochdale, LancashtTe, 
 May 31, 1825. 
 Mr. Home, 
 
 As the custom «f rush-bearing prevails 
 in this part of the country, and you have 
 not noticed the practice, I send you a 
 sketch of a rush cart and banner, gene 
 
1105 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 18. 
 
 1106 
 
 rally made for these holidays, which you 
 can use as you please. 
 
 A few years ago, I was told by an old 
 man, now deceased, that he remembered 
 the rushes to have been borne on the 
 shoulders of the country people in 
 bundles, some very plain, and others or- 
 namented with ribands, garlands, &c., to' 
 the church yard in Rochdale ; that they 
 were there dried, previous to being put 
 into the church, and that these rush- 
 bearers received a small compensation 
 from the churchwardens. This was be- 
 fore churches were floored with wood. 
 The rushes were strewed for the purpose 
 of rendering the congregation more com- 
 fortable, and saving their feet from being 
 chilled by the stone pavements, and, in 
 some instances, the clay floors. In many 
 churches rushes are used in the same 
 manner in the present day. The improve- 
 ments in education, manufactures, and 
 comtnerce, have rendered the taste and 
 manners of the working classes more re- 
 fined, and the old homely method of 
 rush-bearing on the shoulders has given 
 place to the more luxurious and gorgeous 
 display of the rush cart and banner, the 
 form of which will be far better under- 
 stood by the sketches I enclose, than by a 
 long description. 
 
 The rushes are laid transversely on the 
 rush cart, and are cut by sharp knives to 
 the form desired, in which no little art is 
 required. The bolts, as they are termed, 
 are formed of the largest rushes tied up in 
 bundles of about two inches in diameter. 
 These bolts are, as the work of making pro- 
 ceeds, affixed to rods fixed in the four 
 corners of the cart, and carved to the 
 form required. When the cart is finished, 
 the load of rushes is decorated with car- 
 nations and other flowers, in different de- 
 vices, and surmounted by branches of 
 oak, and a person rides upon the top. 
 The carts are sometimes drawn by horses 
 gaily caparisoned, but more frequently by 
 young men, to the number of twenty or 
 thirty couple, profusely adorned with 
 ribands, tinsel, &c. They are generally 
 preceded by men with horse-bells about 
 them, grotesquely jumping from side to 
 side, and jingling the bells. After these 
 is a band of music, and sometimes a set 
 of morris dancers (but without the an- 
 cient appendage of bells), followed by 
 young women bearing garlands ; then 
 comes the banner made of silk of various 
 colorSj joined by narrow riband fretted, 
 the whole profusely covered on both sides 
 
 wUh roses, stars, &c., of tinsel (which in 
 thii part is called horse gold), and which, 
 bein^ viewed when the sun shines upon 
 it, dakzles the eye. The banners are gene- 
 rally from four to five yards broad, and 
 six to 6ight yards long, having on either 
 side in \he centre a painting of Britannia, 
 the king's arms, or some other device. 
 The whole procession is flanked by men 
 vyith long cartwhips, which they keep 
 continually cracking to make a clear 
 path, • On the front of some carts is a 
 white cloth, to which is attached a num- 
 ber of silver spoons, tankards, cups, and 
 watches, tastefully displayed. 
 
 Great rivalry exists between the young 
 men of the neighbouring villages, which 
 shall produce the best formed cart and 
 banner, and it not unfrequently happens 
 that, when two of them meet in the street, 
 a scufflle takes place, and many bloody 
 noses are the result. Six or seven rush- 
 carts are frequently in the town (Roch- 
 dale) on the third Monday in August, 
 which is the day for strewing them. A 
 collection is made by each party from the 
 gentry and other inhabitants, vthich 
 enables them to sacrifice very freely at the 
 shrine of Sir John Barleycorn. The dis- 
 plays are very gay, and afford much gra- 
 tification to strangers, who never before 
 witnessed a rush-bearing. The practice is 
 general in the months of July, August, and 
 September. Those held round this place 
 are at Ashworth, Littlebro, Minbrow, 
 Shaw, Oldham, Royton, Middleton, Hey- 
 wood, and Whitworth; the customs at 
 each place being much alike. The person 
 who has the forming of a rush-cart is 
 called a " featherer," and it was one of 
 these men who unfortunately lost his life 
 at the riots in this town on Easter Mon- 
 day, in April 1794 or 5. He resided at 
 Marland, and for a number of years after- 
 wards, in commemoration of his death, 
 each of the young men who drew the 
 rush-cart from Marland wore a black 
 scarf, but it is now discontinued. There 
 is a remarkable anecdote concerning the 
 event in the Imperial Magazine, vol. iv. 
 1822, col. 1203. 
 
 J. L. 
 
 Rush-qj:aeing, and Pebambulatino. 
 Morley, near Leeds, May 4, 1831. 
 Mr. Hone, 
 
 An account of a " Rush-bearing," 
 in Whitaker's Richraondshire, as far as 
 my observation has extended, is quite 
 correct. He says, — 
 
1107 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 18. 
 
 1108 
 
 " This ceremony, at Warton, appears 
 to have been on the feast of the dedication 
 of the patron saint,* St. Oswald, or on 
 the Sunday nearest the first of August. 
 
 " The vain custom of excessive drink- 
 ing; dancing, &c., having been laid aside, 
 the inhabitants, and strangers, spend that 
 day in duly attending the service of the 
 church, and making good cheer within the 
 rules of sobriety, in private liouses ; and, 
 next, in several kinds of diversions, the 
 chief of which is a rush-bearing ;■ which 
 is thus : — 
 
 " They cut hard rushes from the marsh, 
 which th.ey make up into long bundles, 
 and then dress them in fine linen, silk 
 ribands, flowers, &c. Afterwards, the 
 young women of the village who perform 
 the ceremony that year, take up the bur- 
 dens erect, and begin the procession 
 (precedence being always given to the 
 churchwarden's burden), which is attend- 
 ed with multitudes of people, witli music, 
 drums, ringing of bells, &c. When they 
 arrive at the church, they go in at the west 
 door (the only public use I ever saw that 
 door put to), and, setting down their 
 burdens in the church, strip them of their 
 ornaments, leaving the heads or crowns of 
 them decked with flowers, cut paper, &c., 
 in some part of the church, generally over 
 the cancelli. 
 
 " Then the company return to the town 
 from whence they came, cheerfully partake 
 of a; collation provided for the purpose, 
 and spend the remaining part of the day, 
 and frequently the night also, in dancing, 
 if the weather permits, about a May-pole, 
 adorned with green and flowers, or in 
 some other convenient place." 
 
 Jlushbearings were not uncommon 
 hereabouts when I was a boy. — At Bir- 
 stal, about three miles hence, I remember 
 once to have seen a procession, as I did 
 at Rochdale, in Lancasliire, in 1828; 
 but you will be pleased to observe one 
 thing, Mr. Hone, which is this, — where- 
 ever our churches are paved or flagged, 
 as most have been since the Tudor reigns, 
 and all since the reformation, there has 
 been no necessity to strew the churches; 
 and this part of the ceremony has, gene- 
 rally, if not always, been dispensed with. 
 I can, however, refer to one place where 
 tlie whole ceremony (with the exception 
 of the May-pole dance) is gone through, 
 
 • In proof of this see also Drake's Illustra- 
 tions, i. 210. 
 
 and that place is Grassmere, noticed, in 
 vol ii. p. 277 of your Tuble-Book. This 
 place (in a pedestrian excursion to the 
 lakes) I visited in 1826, and, being more 
 intent upon antiquities than even lake 
 scenery, you may be sure I overlooked 
 nothing, in the church especially. Judge 
 my surprise, when 1 tell you I found the" 
 very seat floors all unpaved,* unbearded, 
 and the bare ground only strewed with 
 rushes. My eye was also particularly at- 
 tracted by the paper garlands which! found 
 deposited in the vestry : tliey were curi- 
 ously and tastefully cut, and I was almost 
 tempted to beg one of tiiera. Not to be 
 tedious, I would refer your readers to the 
 account of your correspondent above 
 alluded to, whose accuracy I can testify, 
 and in nothing more truly than as re- 
 spects the civility, nay, even friendliness, 
 of the people in this charming district. 
 
 I do not know how I can better fill my 
 sheet than by sending you an account of 
 parochial perambulations, or boundary 
 riding, as I remember no particular ac- 
 count of them in your " Every-Day'' or 
 Table-Book." My best extract is from 
 Fosbroke's Encyclopaedia, vol. ii. p. 500. 
 
 " Those boundaries which commonly 
 marked the limits of jurisdiction apper- 
 taining to the founder of the church were 
 distinguished by trees, called ' gospel 
 trees,' because the clergyman read the 
 gospel of the day under or near them. 
 The processionists carried a cross, or 
 crosses, and staves. Boys were taken in 
 order to be flogged at the boundaries, for 
 the purpose of infixing them in their 
 memories. Among us a figure of Christ 
 was hung up to represent the ascension. 
 In some churches a dragon with a tail, 
 filled with chaff, was exhibited,t and 
 emptied on the third day, to show that thi 
 devil, after prevailing on the first and 
 second day before, or, under the law, was, 
 on the ' thyrd days of grace, by the pas- 
 sion of Jhesu Criste, put out of his 
 reame.' After dinner, in some countries, 
 the people went to church, where a wooden 
 image of the devil was placed upon the 
 aliar. This was drawn up to the roof, 
 let down by a violent fall, and broken to 
 
 * Many of the old churches in Westmar- 
 land, Cumberland, &c., have never been 
 ceiled, or, as we call it in Yorkshire, under- 
 drawn. 
 
 t In OUT churchwardens' accounts I &a>\ 
 notices of this curious ceremony. 
 
1109 
 
 THE YliAll BOOK.-SEI^TEMBEll 18. 
 
 1110 
 
 pieces by the boys. Wafers and cakes, 
 ■wrapped in paper, were next showered 
 down, and water poured from the beams 
 by way of jest upon the scramblers." 
 
 In return for those curious and spirited 
 sketches with which your works are 
 adorned, and by which they are distin- 
 guished, it is my desire to send you ap- 
 propriate communications. If notices of 
 annual cuttoms, unrecorded in your pub- 
 lications, shall be acceptable, they will 
 be at your service. 
 
 I remain. Sir, 
 
 Yours obediently, 
 
 NORRISSON SCATCHERD. 
 
 RUSH-EEARING — Egc-SETTIHO ChABM— 
 
 Black Pudding Chakm — Yule Cr- 
 DEK — Leet Sports. 
 
 £To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 Marshani, Norwich, April 27, 1831. 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 At the time I had the pleasure of 
 an hour or two's chat with you at your 
 family table in Gracechurch Street, E made 
 a promise to collect a little information 
 on the custom of rush-strewing. 
 
 In the town account book of the parish 
 of Hardley, near Loddon, Norfolk, it 
 seems to have been customary to strew 
 the church with rushes, as the entries 
 therein plainly show, commencing with 
 the year 1709, and the last in 1736 ; it is 
 generally entered thus, " paid for rushes 
 for the church, 3s. ;" but in some years it 
 is entered in two half-yearly payments of 
 1 s. 6d. each After the last years are entries 
 of the same annual sum of 3s. for "nats or 
 knats (I presume for mats) for the church." 
 It rs still the custom to strew Norwich 
 cathedral, on the mayor's day, or guild 
 day, out of compliment to the corporation, 
 who on that day attend the cathedral ser- 
 vice. I must here observe that it is the 
 sweet-scented flag, " acorus calamus, " 
 that should be used on these occasions, 
 whose roots when bruised give out a 
 very powerful and fragrant odour, some- 
 what resembling that of the myrtle. This 
 plant, from the great demand the root has 
 attained in our breweries (under the name 
 of quassia), has not been obtainable for 
 many years, and the yellow water iris, 
 "irispseudo-acorus,"has been substituted. 
 The flags were formerly strewed from the 
 great west door to the entrance of the 
 inayor's seat ; but are now laid no further 
 than the entrance of the choir. Twelve 
 
 shillings per annum are now allowed by 
 the dean and chapter for this service. 
 
 I am informed that it is yet the custom 
 to strew the Trinity-house, at Hull; per- 
 haps you have some correspondent there 
 from whom you can obtain information. 
 
 Customs. It is customary with the 
 good housewives of Norfolk on placing a 
 " clutch or litter " of eggs (generally thir- 
 teen) in a nest for incubation (more par- 
 ticularly of a goose or duck), to swing a 
 lighted candle over them at the time, as a 
 charm, to prevent hawks, crows, or other 
 birds of prey, flying away with -tiie young 
 gosslin'gs or ducks, produced from the 
 eggs charmed. 
 
 In Somersetshire, when a black or blood 
 pudding is boiling, an old wig of the par- 
 son's is much coveted, and, when ob- 
 tained, hung up in the chimney as a 
 charm, to prevent the pudding bursting.— 
 [This I had from Tawney Rachel.] 
 
 An old laborer, who worked many 
 years on my farm, informed me that 
 when a boy he was in the service of a 
 farmer at Mulbarton, Norfolk, who had 
 two considerable orchards, and a suf- 
 ficient quantity of cyder for the family 
 for the whole year : and it was customary 
 with the servants to preserve the most 
 cross-grained block of elm (if they could 
 find one) for the Christmas or yule block : 
 and my informant adds, that, as long as 
 any part of the block remained uncon- 
 sumed, they had the best and strongest 
 cyder at their meals; and that a small 
 portion of the yule-block was always pre- 
 served till the joyous season came again, 
 when it was used for lighting the new 
 Christmas block. 
 
 The following is a copy of a MS. no- 
 tice (verbatim et literatim) posted on the 
 sign post of the Bull Inn, East Tudden- 
 ham, Norfolk : — 
 
 " Sports of the Week. 
 
 Nekt Wednsday 25th of nay there will be at 
 
 East Tnddenham Bull Jingling matches 
 
 fsr Hats Jumping in Sacks Catching » pig 
 
 with the 
 Tail greazed climbing of a pole of wemen 
 
 Runing 
 For Snuff old men for tobacco there will be also 
 A place Reserved for Dancing and Seats will 
 be Also Reserved for the Lcades there will be 
 A band of musick pepered to conclude with 
 A grand Exbitrition of Fire Works by J T." 
 
 The above notice relates to a sort of 
 village wake, called there " a leet " 
 
IILI 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 19. 
 
 1112 
 
 which Major Moor in his Suffolk words, 
 under " Foury-leet," says is an old word 
 for a meeting. 
 
 GoDDARD Johnson 
 
 A great number of notices concerning 
 Rush-bearing may be found scattered in 
 different works, and many are collected 
 together by Mr. Brand among his " Popu- 
 lar Atitiquities." 
 
 In ancient times the parishioners brought 
 rushes at the feast of the dedication, to 
 strew the church, and hence the festivity 
 was called " Rush-bearing." The church- 
 wardens' accounts of St. Mary at Hill, 
 London, 1504, have this item : " Paid 
 for 2 Berden Rysshes for the strewyng 
 the newe pewes, 3d." In the accounts of 
 1493, there is charged "for 3 Burdens of 
 Rushes for the new pews, 3d. In similar 
 accounts for the parish of St. Margaret's 
 Westminster, 1 554, is the following item : 
 " Paid for Rushes against the Dedication 
 Day, which is always the first Sunday of 
 October, Is. 5d." In Coates's History of 
 Reading, among the entries in the church- 
 wardens' accounts of St. Laurence Parish, 
 1602, we have: " Paid for Flower, and 
 Rushes for the Churche when the Queene 
 was in towne, xxd." Newton's Herbal 1 
 10 the Bible, 1587, mentions " Sedge and 
 Rushes, with the which many in the 
 country do use in sommer time to strawe 
 their parlors and churches, as well for 
 cooleness as for pleasant smell." 
 
 Chambers, and indeed all apartments 
 usually inhabited, were formerly strewed 
 in this manner. As our ancestors rarely 
 washed their floors, disguises of unclean- 
 liness became very necessary. It ap- 
 pears, too, that the English stage was 
 strewed with ruslies. Compare Reed's 
 Shakspeare, vol xi. p. 331. 
 
 The author of " Whimzies, or a New 
 Cast of Characters, 1631," describing a 
 zealot, says : " He denounceth a heavy 
 woe upon all Wakes, Sumraerings, and 
 Rush- bearings, preferring that act whereby 
 pipers were made rogues, by Act of Par- 
 liaments, before any in all the Acts and 
 Monuments." Speaking of a pedlar the 
 author says: ''A Countrey Rushr-bedring, 
 or Morrice-Pastoral, is his Festivall ; if 
 ever he aspire to plum-porridge, that is 
 the day." So, also, in " A Boulster Lec- 
 ture, 1640," we are told of " Such an 
 one as not a Rush-bearer, of May-morrish 
 in all that parish could subsist without 
 him." 
 
 Bridges, in his History of Northamp- 
 tonshire, says, of the parish of Middleton 
 Chendeut, " It is a Custom here to strew 
 the Churth in summer with Hay gathered 
 from six or seven swaths in Ash-meadow, 
 which have been given for this purpose. 
 The Rector finds straw in winter." Hentz- 
 ner, in liis Itinerary, speaking of Queen 
 Elizabeth's presence-chamber at Green- 
 wich, says, " The floor, after the English 
 fashion, was strewed with Hay,'' meaning 
 Rushes. In " Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 
 1614," we read,—" Henry the Third, 
 king of France, demaunded of Monsieur 
 Daudelot, what especiall thinges he had 
 noted in England, during the time of his 
 negociation there : he answered that he 
 had seene but three things remarkable, 
 which were, that the people did drinke in 
 bootes, eat rawe fish, and strewed all their 
 best rbomes with Hay, meaning blacke 
 Jackes, Oysters, and Rushes." It were 
 needless to multiply instances of this gen- 
 eral custom of strewing rushes in old 
 times.* 
 
 ^tvitrnfitv 19. 
 
 The Goldfinch. 
 
 This bird, sometimes called the thistle 
 finch, is highly esteemed for its singing, 
 and the brilliancy and variety of its colors. 
 It is certainly the most beautiful and 
 finest feathered of all song birds ; and is 
 so well known as to render description 
 needless. It is of a mild and gentle 
 nature, and, presently after being taken, 
 will eat and drink, and be little troubled 
 by imprisonment in a cage. It is called 
 in some places the draw-water, from its 
 readily learning to draw water in a little 
 ivory bucket, fastened to a small chain, 
 made for that purpose. This little creature 
 pulls up the bucket, drinks, and throws 
 it down again ; and lifts up the lid of a 
 small box or bin with the bill to come at the 
 food . It is wonderfully delighted with view- 
 ingitself in aglass, fixed to the back Of the 
 bucket-board. It will sit upon the perch 
 opposite, preening itself, often looking in 
 the glass, and placing every feather in 
 strict order. No lady can take greater 
 pleasure, or be more nice, in dressing 
 herself. It is a long-lived bird, some- 
 times reaching to twenty years of age. 
 It flies in flocks or companies ; and, when 
 at liberty, delights to feed upon, the seeds 
 of thistle, teasel, hemp, dock, &c. 
 
 * Brand. 
 
1113 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 20. 
 
 1114 
 
 The feathers in the male on the ridge 
 of the wing are coal-black, quite up to 
 the shoulder:, while, in the hen bird, 
 though they appear black, they are of a 
 greyish, or dusky ash-color. He is 
 browner on the back and sides of the 
 brgast; the red, yellow, and, in short, all 
 his bolors, are much brighter than tliose 
 of the hen. These are constant, infallible 
 marks, by which he may be known from 
 the female, whether old or young ; and, 
 besides, the hen has a smaller note, and 
 does not sing so much. 
 
 The female begins to build in April, 
 when the fruit-trees are in blossom. Her 
 nest is not only very small, but exceed- 
 ingly pretty ; the outside consists of very 
 fine moss, curiously interwoven with other 
 soft bedding; the inside lined with deli- 
 cate fine down, wool, &c. She lays six 
 or seven white eggs, specked and marked 
 with a reddish brown. It is not ^sery easy 
 to find her nest ; for she builds in. apple, 
 pear, plum, and other fruit trees, but 
 most commonly in the apple, pretty high 
 upon the branches, where either the blos- 
 som or leaves intercept the sight; and at 
 a season when the nest carmot be ap- 
 proached without the hazard of damaging 
 the bloom or young firuit. She likewise 
 frequently builds in the elder-tree, and, 
 sometimes, in thorns and hedges. 
 
 Young goldfinches are tender, and 
 should not be taken before they are pretty 
 well feathered; they will not be sullen, 
 like the young of many other birds, by 
 staying long in the nest. For their meat, 
 when young, soak white bread in fair 
 water, strain it, and then boil it with a 
 little milk to the consistence of hasty- 
 pudding, adding a little flour of canary- 
 seed. Feed them every two hours, or 
 oftener, giving them two or three small 
 bits only at a time. Begin to feed them 
 about sun-rising, continue after this man- 
 ner till sun-setting, and let them have 
 fresh victuals every day. When thus fed 
 for a month, or thereabouts, begin to 
 break from this soft meat, by giving them 
 a little canary seed, and soft meat besides. 
 When they feed pretty freely upon the 
 seed, keep them constantly to that diet. 
 They will eat hemp, and other kinds of 
 seed, yet nothing agrees so well with them 
 as canary. 
 
 A young goldfincii, brought up under 
 the woodlark, the canary, or any other 
 fine singing bird, will take their song very 
 readily. It is said that a lady had one of 
 these birds which talked very finely. 
 
 The length of a full-grown goldfinch, 
 from the tip of the bill to the end of the 
 tail, is five inches and a half; of which 
 the latter is two, and the former a little 
 more than half an inch long. A healthy 
 bird weighs about an ounce. 
 
 If a bird be out of order, or droop, 
 give saffron in the water. If the bowels 
 are relaxed, crumble a little dry chalk in 
 the cage, or among the seed, or stick 
 a bit betwixt the wires of the cage, 
 and lay gravel at the bottom ; or try him 
 with a little thistle seed, or other seeds 
 which they delight to feed upon when' 
 wild : the first may be found in the great 
 thistle, at the bottom of the white down. 
 
 The goldfinch is taken in great numbers 
 with lime twigs, or the clap-net, in the 
 fields where they feed. When first caught 
 they may have hemp-seed cracked, or 
 some of the seeds they feed upon in the 
 meadows. They may soon- be brought 
 to eat canary seed, which is more whole- 
 some.* 
 
 There sat upon the liaden-tree 
 
 A bird, and sang its strain ; 
 So sweet it sang, that, as I heard^ 
 
 My heart went back again. 
 It went to one remember'd spot. 
 
 It saw the rose-trees grow. 
 And thought again the tlioughts of love 
 
 There cherish' d long ago. 
 
 ' thousand years to me it seems 
 Since by my fair I sate, 
 et thus ^ have been a stranger long 
 Was not my choiGSf hut fate : 
 Since then. I have not seen the flowers. 
 
 Nor heard the birds' sweet song ; 
 My joys have all too briefly past. 
 My griefs been all too long. 
 
 Dietmar von Aat, 13th Cent. 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 September 19. — Day breaks . . 
 Sun rises . , 
 
 . 3 51 
 
 , 5 48 
 
 — sets . . , 
 
 , 6 12 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 Martins congregate. 
 
 8 9 
 
 ^evttmtev 20. 
 
 20th of September, 1815, died,. at the 
 great age of ninety-two, William Hut- 
 ton, Esq., F. S. A., the historian of 
 Birmingham and Derby, eminent in an- 
 tiquities for his itinerary of the Roman 
 
 » Albin. 
 
1115 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 21. 
 
 lire 
 
 wall, and similar works, and especially 
 eminent for an able treatise on the Court 
 of Requests'. He may be deemed to have 
 been the legislator of the town of Bir- 
 mingham. He entered it a poor boy, 
 and by great industry, undeviating 
 economy, and inflexible integrity, he 
 acquired in it an ample fortune. His 
 own memoirs, edited by his daughter 
 Catharine Hutton, is the most teaching 
 volume of autobiography in the English 
 language. 
 
 Mr; Hutton left behind him a MS. 
 " Book of Memory." It contains a 
 recollection for every day, except ten, in 
 some one year ; the recollections were to 
 be as insignificant and as remote as pos- 
 sible, as the design was to show the 
 powers of the writer's memory. From 
 this MS. the following are 
 
 Unpublished Extracts. 
 
 1732, May 27. Rejoicing at the silk 
 mills [Derby], and I was sent on an 
 errand to Little Chester. I heard the 
 cannon flred for joy, and I wept with vex- 
 ation. 
 
 1734, December 28. One of the 
 masters of the silk mills sent a message 
 to the boys that, as the holidays could 
 not yet be out of their bones, he did not 
 expect much attention to work. As- 
 tonished at so unusual a precept, we 
 believed it ironical, and labored with 
 double diligence. 
 
 1730, March 1. I first saw a Welch- 
 man with a leek in his hat, and thought it 
 would have been better in his porridge. 
 
 1741, July 21. I saw a running foot- 
 man belonging to a gentleman's equipage 
 at Nottingham. His cap was of black 
 velvet, his jacket of white dimity, fringed 
 with black. I thought the nian enviable, 
 his dress beautiful, and his staff desirable. 
 
 1761. March 8. I went to Middleion 
 [about ten or twelve miles] before break- 
 fast, to purchase an ash tree; I left it at 
 noon, and got home at three o'clock ; it 
 was still before breakfast. I was sur- 
 prised the people had not asked me to 
 eat. Their surprise was probably equal 
 to mine, for I afterwards understood it 
 was a public house. 
 
 him. Few are so stigmatical as that they 
 are not honest to some ; and few, again, 
 are so just, as that they seem not to some 
 unequal : either the ignorance, the envy, 
 or the partiality, of those that judge, do 
 constitute a various man. Nor can a 
 man, in himself, always appear alike to 
 all. In some, nature hath invested a 
 disparity; in some, report hath fore- 
 blinded judgment; and, in some," acci- 
 dent is the cause of disposing us to love 
 or hate. Or, if not these, the variation of 
 the body's humours ; or, perhaps, not 
 any of these. The soul is often led by 
 secret motions, and loves, she knows not 
 why. There are impulsive privacies, 
 which urge us to a liking, even against 
 the parliamental acts of the two houses, 
 reason and common-sense. As if there 
 were some hidden beauty, of a more 
 magnetic force than all that the eye can 
 see ; and this, too, more poworful at one 
 time than another. Undiscovered influ- 
 ences please us now, with what we would 
 sometimes contemn. I have come to the 
 same man that hath now welcomed me 
 with a free expression of love and courte- 
 sie, and, another lime, hath left me unsa- 
 hited at all ; yet, knowing him well, I 
 have been certain of his sound affection ; 
 and having found this not an intended 
 neglect, but an indisposedness, or a mind 
 seriously busied within. Occasion reins 
 the motions of the stirring mind. Like 
 men that walk in their sleep, we are led 
 about, we neither know whither nor how. 
 — Owen Felltliam, 1636. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 September 20. — Daybreaks. . 3 53 
 
 Sun rises . . .5 50 
 
 — sets . . , 6 10 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 7 
 
 Green gage and other plums still plen- 
 tiful. 
 
 No MAN C/m BE GOOD TO ALL. 
 
 I never yet knew any man so bad but 
 some have thought him honest, and afford- 
 ed him love ; nor ever any so good, but 
 some have thought him evil, and hated 
 
 SbfVtemtttv 21. 
 
 21 September, 1327, king Edward II. 
 was murdered in Berkley Castle, Glou- 
 cestershire, at the instigation of his queen. 
 She had caused him to be deposed and 
 committed to the keeping of the earl of 
 Leicester, from whom he was taken and 
 imprisoned successively at Kenilworth, 
 Corfe Castle, and in the castle of Bristol, 
 whence he was removed, in disguise, to 
 Berkley Castle; on his way thither, his 
 conductors dismounted him, and, for pur- 
 poses of concealment, shaved his head 
 
1117 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPr£MBER 22,23. 
 
 1118 
 
 and beard with water from a ditch. Mis 
 barber telling him that. cold water must 
 serve for this time, the miserable king, 
 looking sternly upon him, said " that 
 wbether they would or no, he would have 
 warm water, and shed a shower of tears." 
 None of the monasteries adjacent to Berk- 
 ley Castle would receive his body, except 
 Gloucester, where he was buried. 
 
 h, m. 
 
 %?ptember 21. — Day breaks , . 3 55 
 
 Sun rises . . $ 52 
 
 — sets ... 6 8 
 Twilight ends .85 
 
 Ib^ptemli^r 22. 
 
 Major John BEaNABci. 
 This name is familiar to readers of book- 
 catalogues as being attached to his Life, 
 published in 1729, written by himself in 
 Newgate, where he was a state prisoner, 
 and had been confined without trial, up- 
 wards of thirty years. He was then in 
 his seventy-fourth year. His history is 
 no less memorable than melancholy. 
 In 1672, being then eighteen years old, 
 and a cadet at Portsmouth, he was pressed 
 on board the Royal James, at Fareham, 
 but claimed by his captain and dis- 
 charged ; had be sailed in that ship he 
 had died when she was blown up the fol- 
 lowing year. In that year he lost his 
 patron, and was reduced both in prospect 
 and constitution. He was wounded at the 
 siege of Gibraltar in 1674; and again iu 
 1675, while parting two gentlemen who 
 were fighting a duel. At the siege of 
 Maestricht in 1678 he lost an eye, was 
 shot through the arm, and. left for dead in 
 the field. He was apprehended irKl696, 
 and accused of being concerned in a plot 
 to assassinate William III. Sufficient 
 evidence could not be brought to prove 
 the fact, and, by the acts of six succes- 
 sive parliaments, he was sentenced with 
 five other persons, to be detained in 
 prison.. Under this extraordinary exercise 
 of legislative power he was imprisoned 
 more than forty years, and, surviving all 
 the partners of his |)uhishment, he died in 
 Newgate at the age of eighty-two.* 
 
 ^-^^ — h. m. 
 
 September 22. — ^Day breaks , . 3 58 
 
 Sun rises . . 5 54 
 
 — sets ... 6 6 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 2 
 
 Small (summer) bergamot pears ripe. 
 
 * Noble. 
 
 Jb^trntli^t' 23. 
 
 Obsolete Customs. 
 
 Embeacikg — Preaching Covered — • 
 The Dance on the Green. 
 
 [From the same Correspondent.] 
 
 Moxley, near Leeds. 
 Mr. Hone, 
 
 May 4th, 1831. 
 About three weeks ago I sent you 
 a paper upon the similarity of the customs 
 and manners of the French, as now seen, 
 and of our ancient English, in the reign 
 of Elizabeth ; and I now furnish you 
 with another authority upon the subject 
 of the " embrace." See Ellis's original 
 Letter.s, p. 211, referred to in vol. 97 of 
 the Gentleman's Magazine, p. 158, from 
 which it appears that, under the Tudor 
 reigns, " the women of this country took 
 great offence if they were not saluted in 
 the form of kissing." Nay, I find from 
 Ellis, vol. iii. p. 214, that the " embrace" 
 was not left off, even between men, in the 
 days of James I.; for the Spanish am- 
 bassador, being indisposed, it appears 
 " James visited him, and gave him a 
 hearty embrace in bed." Now, as to 
 France, I am assured, by those who have 
 lived many years there, that were a friend 
 or an acquaintance to omit the customary 
 salutation,, the father, brother, or friend, 
 of the lady so slighted, would resent it 
 highly. ,The change of religion, from 
 catholic to protestant, no doubt produced , 
 a great change in our national manners 
 and habits, which our neighbours, still 
 adhering to the old religion, have retained. 
 It is very curious, however, to observe 
 how little they have improved in regard 
 to their vehicles, of one of which you 
 have iavored the public witli an accept- 
 able engraving. Jn .ghort, between the 
 holiday sports and pastimes of the French, 
 their spectacles and shows, and habits in 
 church, and those of our forefathers in 
 times Io»g subsequent to the reformation, 
 there is, I fancy, a very striking resem- 
 blance. 
 
 In 1564 a priest, preaching before 
 Elizabeth at Cambridge, and having 
 made her the obeisance of three bows, 
 as was customary, she sent Sir Christo- 
 pher Hatton to him, in the middle of his 
 sermon, willing him to put on his cap, 
 which he did, keeping it on to the end. 
 In this reign an ordinance was made that 
 at the name of Christ every woman curt- 
 sey and every man take off his cap. In 
 
1119 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-SEPTEMBER 34. 
 
 1120 
 
 1603 was an order that all persons be 
 uncovered in the churches. On the re- 
 storation of Pharles II., there "were at- 
 tempts made to restore the ancient usage, 
 but they made little impression upon the 
 public at large. 
 
 Permit me to conclude with an extract 
 from Whitaker's History of Craven, page 
 467, not doubting that the custom to 
 which he alludes was universal through- 
 out England in former times. The pas- 
 sage has just struck my eye, and it illus- 
 trates my subject very appropriately. 
 
 " Once every summer was good cheer 
 and glee upon the village green. ; vast syl- 
 labubs being mixed in pails at the place 
 of milking, to which all the inhabitants 
 contributed, and of which, if they thought 
 proper, they partook ; at the same time the 
 young people danced upon the green- 
 sward, and the public intercourse of the 
 two sexes, promoted by these means, was 
 favorable to the morals of both." 
 I remain. Sir, 
 Yours very respectfully, 
 
 N. ScATCHERD. 
 
 h, m. 
 
 September 23. — Day breaks ..40 
 
 Sun rises . . 5 56 
 
 — sets ... 6 4 
 
 Twilight ends . 8 
 
 Autumnal pears ripe. 
 
 what is generally call'd stopping) by no 
 means conversant. 
 
 A proper knowledge of accounts and 
 arithmetic; but no sort of skill in frac- 
 tions. 
 
 A more than tolerably good voice, and 
 a little ear for music — a capability of sing- 
 ing (in company), but no peculiar and 
 intimate acquaintance with minims, 
 crotchets, quavers, &c. 
 
 Ready at her needle, but more devoted 
 to plain work than to fine — no enemy to 
 knitting. 
 
 Not always in the parlour, but some- 
 times in the kitchen — yet more skilled in 
 the theory, than in the practice of cookery. 
 
 Fonder of country dances tban minuets. 
 
 An acquaintance with domestic, news, 
 but no acquaintance with forieign. 
 
 Not entirely fond of quadrille, but a 
 little given to whist. 
 
 In conversation a little of the lisp, .but 
 not of the stammer 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 H^ftftemS^v 24, 
 
 Qualifications of a Wife. 
 
 These are set forth in the " Worcester 
 Journal '1T61" to the following effect- 
 Great good-nature, and a prudent ge- 
 nerosity. 
 
 A lively look, a proper spirit, and 
 a cheerful disposition. 
 
 A good person, but not perfectly beau- 
 tiful, — a moderate height, — complexion 
 not quite fair, but a little brown. 
 
 Young by all means — old by no means. 
 
 A decent .share of common sense, just 
 seasoned with a little repartee — a small 
 modicum of wit, but no learning : no 
 learning, I say again and again (either 
 ancient or modern) upon any considera- 
 tion whatever. 
 
 Well, but not critically, skill'd in her 
 own tongvie. 
 
 In spelling a little becoming deficiency; 
 and in the doctrine of punctuation (or 
 
 By FboissaRt, XIV. Centlt.!-.* 
 Parting. 
 The body goes, the spirit stays ; 
 
 Dear lady, till we meet, farewell ! 
 Too far from thee my home must bo ; 
 The body goes, the soul delays ;■ — 
 
 Dearest of ladies, fare thee well ! 
 
 But sweeter thoughts that in me dwell 
 The anguish of my grief outweigh ; — 
 
 Dearest of ladies, fare thee well 1 
 The body goes, the soul may stay. 
 
 Invitation to 'Return. 
 Return, my love ; too long thy stay ; 
 
 Sorrow for thee my soul has stung ; 
 My spirit calls thee ev'ry day, — 
 
 Return my love, thou stay'st too long. 
 For nothing, wanting thee, consoles. 
 
 Or can console till thou art nigh : 
 Return, my love, thou stay'st too long, 
 
 And grief is mine till thou be by. 
 
 h. m. 
 September 24. — Day breaks ..42 
 Sun rises . . 5 68 
 — sets ... 6 2 
 Twilight ends . 7 58 
 Guernsey lilies, and other amaryllides, 
 blow in the green-house, and in the open 
 air. 
 
 • Lays of the Minnesingers. 
 
il21 
 
 THK YP^AIl BOOK.— SEl'TEMBER 24. 
 
 1122 
 
 /7^||Mi(U8i|i 
 
 BOWIE'S TAVERN, LrsBERTON'S WYND, EDINBURGH 
 FREQUENTED BY THE LATE ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 This engraving is from an original 
 drawing in 1831, by Mr. William Geikie, 
 obligingly communicated with the fol- 
 lowing article : — 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.J 
 
 Edinburgh, May 10, 1831. 
 
 1 have sent you a sketch of a Tavern, 
 which, for the last quarter of the liist cen- 
 tury, was the resort of all the revelling 
 wits of pur " Gude Town." Robert 
 ^ums was one of its constant — poor fel- 
 low—too constant frequenters; so much 
 so that^ when he died, his name was 
 assumed as its distinguishing and allur- 
 ing cognomen. Until it was finally 
 closed, lately, previous to be.iig taken 
 down (it being immediately in' the line to 
 
 Vol I.— 36. 
 
 the new South bridge), it was visited 
 nightly by many a party of jolly fellows, 
 whose admiration of the poet, or, more 
 probably, whose predilection for tlie 
 " gousty viver," and the exhilarating 
 potions, which were ttinistered to them, 
 drew them " nothing loth" to its " douce 
 coulhie cozy canty ingles." Few stran- 
 gers omitted lo call in to gaze at the 
 coffin of the bard — this was a small dark 
 room, which could barely accomlnedale, 
 even by squeezing, half a dozen ; but in 
 which Burns used lo sit. Here he com- 
 posed one or two of his best songs, and 
 here were preserved, to the last, the iden- 
 tical seats and table which, had accom 
 modated him. 
 
 2 O 
 
 '.i:?'iii,';^^ «.d 
 
1123 
 
 Tirc VEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 24. 
 
 1124 
 
 The house is situated in a steep lane, 
 Scottice " Wynd,'' but which was a place 
 of high note when its neighbourhood was 
 the court end of the town. Now, its shut 
 windows, and the forsaken houses beside it, 
 must in the minds of those who remember 
 the mirth and madness which were here 
 erer at home — the roaring and roystingof 
 its ever-coming customers — awaken the 
 sober reflection, that time is quickly pass- 
 ing on, and making the things that were 
 as though they had not been. There are 
 notices of the place in " Chambers' Tra- 
 ditions of Edinburgh." 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 A. G. J. 
 
 company of well-known and friendly 
 customers. It was a perfect treat to see 
 his formality in drawing the cork, his pre- 
 cision in filling the glasses, his regularity 
 in drinking the healths of all present in 
 the first glass (which he always did and 
 at every successive boltle,)and then his 
 douce eivility in withdrawing. Johnnk 
 lived till within the last few years, and with 
 laudable attachment to the old costume, 
 always wore a cocked hat, and buckles at 
 knees and shoes, as well as a cane with a 
 cross top, somewhat like an implement 
 called by Scottish gardeners " a dibble. " 
 
 Bowie's Tavern. 
 
 T>owic\ tavern in Libberton's Wynd, 
 well known as the resort of Burns, is said 
 by the able recorder of the "Traditions of 
 Edinburgh," to have been formerly " as 
 dark and plain an old-fashioned house 
 as any drunken lawyer of the last cen- 
 tury could have wished to nestle in ; but 
 it i.s now (adds Mr. Chambers, in 1825, 
 hinc illiE lachrymae I )painted and lighted 
 with gas ; while the room in which Burns. 
 5at with the ' Willie ' and ' Allan ' of his 
 inimitable bacchanalian lyric, and where 
 he scribbled verses upon the walls, has 
 been covered over with elegant green 
 cloth and fitted up with -a new table." 
 
 Howie's was one of the most popular 
 taverns of its day, and much resorted to 
 by the Lords of Session, after leaving the 
 Court, for " meridians," as well as in the 
 evening, for its admirable Edinburgh ale. 
 The ale was Younger's. That brewer, 
 together with John Gray, city-clerk of. 
 Edinburgh — Mr. John Buchan, writer to 
 the Signet — Martin the celebrated por- 
 trait-paiiiter and the master of Sir Henry 
 Raeburn — and some others, instituted 
 a club here, which, by way of a pun 
 upon the name of the landlord, they 
 called the, "College of Doway." Mr. 
 Younger's ale alone was always sold. in 
 the house ; as it also was at Mnut Ha', 
 a snug old tavern, kept by one Pringle, 
 in the Playhouse-close, Canongate ; and 
 it was owing to the celebrity which it 
 acquired in these two establishments, 
 that " Edinburgh ale " attained its present 
 high character. 
 
 Johnnie Dowie was the sleekest and 
 kindest of landlords. . Nothing could 
 equal the benignity of his smile, when;he 
 hrought in a bottle of " the ale," to a 
 
 Drunken Lawyers. 
 
 " Any drunken lawyer of the last cen- 
 tury — "says Mr. Chambers. His mearing 
 shall be illustrated by examples from the 
 bench and bar of Edinburgh, set forth by 
 himself, — viz. : 
 
 The late lord Newton was one of the 
 ablest lawyers, and profoundest drinkers, 
 of his day. He had a body of immense 
 breadth, width, and depth, which could 
 hold (without affecting in the least degree 
 the broad, wide, and deep head attached 
 to it) six bottles of port. He was never ■ 
 so able to do business as after drinking 
 that enormous quantity of liquor. Upon 
 one occasion, after having dined with two 
 friends, and, to use his own phrase, drunk 
 them both under the table, he dictated to 
 his clerk a law-paper of sixty pages, 
 which that gentleman has since declared 
 to be one of the ablest and clearest he 
 had ever known his lordship produce. — 
 Lord Newton often spent the night in all 
 manner of convivial indulgences, in a 
 taverji sornewhere in the High street; at 
 sever! in the morning he drove home; 
 sleptTWO hours, and, mounting the bench 
 at the proper time, showed himself as well 
 qualified to perform his duty as if his 
 fancy Ir^d been on this side, i-istead of 
 beyond the Pole. 
 
 Simond, the French traveller, tells in his 
 book (1811), that he was quite surprised, 
 on stepping one morning into the Par- 
 liament house, to find in the dignified ca- 
 pacity, and exhibiting all the dignified 
 bearing of a judge, the very gentleman 
 with whom he had just spent a night of 
 debauch, and from whom he had only 
 parted an hour before, when both were 
 excessively intoxicated. 
 
 The following story was told of lord 
 Newton by Dr. Gregory, to king George 
 III., who laughed at it very heartilv. 
 
1125 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 24. 
 
 1136 
 
 While an advocate, and then plain Mr- 
 Hay, a country client, coming to town 
 for the pujpose of consulting hia, en- 
 quired of some of Mr. Hay's friends at 
 what hour it wa3 proper to call upon him, 
 and was informed that the most propitious 
 time was four o'clock, immediately be- 
 fore the lawyer sat down to dinner. The 
 man accordingly called at four ; but was 
 informed that Mr. Hay was at dinner 
 and could see no person — the servant 
 moreover asseverating, tliat, if he were to 
 disturb his master at this critical moment, 
 it would be as much as his place, or 
 perhaps his life, was worth I The client 
 went away disappointed, — promising, 
 however, to call next day a little before 
 four. This he did, when to his surprise , 
 he was informed by the lacquey that 
 Mr. Hay could not possibly see him — 
 being at dinner. " At dinner ! " cried 
 the enraged applicant ; " Sirrah, did you 
 not tell me thaX four was his dinner-hour, 
 and now it wants a quarter of it I " — " Yes 
 •ir," said the seryant ; " but it is not his 
 tliis ia^i but his yesterdm/s dinner, that 
 Mr. Hay is engaged with — so you are 
 ather too early than too late ! " / 
 
 It is related of a certain lord of Session 
 who died within the last twelve years 
 (preceding 1825) that, going home after 
 one of his Saita-day-nights' debauches, 
 he stumbled among the sootymaii's bags 
 at the end of the Old Town-guard-house 
 in the High street, and, being there over- 
 taken by sleep, did not come to his senses 
 till next forenoon, when the sound of the 
 Tron Kirk bell, rung at ten o'clock to 
 denote the chorch-going hour, roused him 
 from his dirty lair in the full view df 
 persons passing along the street. 
 
 The debaucheries of the great lawyers 
 were imitated by their dependents, and" 
 possibly while lords of Sessions and ad- 
 vocates of high practice were bousing 
 over stoups of French claret, or playing 
 
 at « High Jinks," in Mrs. "s best 
 
 room, the very next apartment contained 
 their equally joyous clerks who transacted 
 the same bu£Fooneries, drank the same 
 liquor, swore the same oaths, and retailed 
 the yesterday's jokes of their masters. A 
 thousand pictures might be drawn, and 
 ten thousand anecdotes related, of these 
 inferior practitioners in the courts of wit 
 
 and drinking. Jamie M was one 
 
 of those singularly accomplished clerks, 
 who, whether drunk or sober, could pen 
 a paper equally well. His haunt was 
 Luckie Middleman' t in the Cowgate, 
 
 where he had a room, with a chair by the 
 fire in winter and one by the window 
 in summer, between which were his 
 only migrations. At late hours, and when 
 far gone, he was often sent for by his 
 master, and, with a sad heart, had to 
 leave his jovial companions and snug 
 parlour, in order to sit down at the dry 
 desk and write some tedious law-paper, 
 which would keep him at work the whole 
 night. On one of these dreary occasions, 
 wheu apparently both blind and insen- 
 sible, he found himself at a table in his 
 master's bed-room, required to vvrite a 
 very long paper, which was wanted to be 
 sent to press early next morning. The 
 advocate, being in bad health, lay in bed, 
 with the curtain drawn, and, though his 
 clerk seemed worse than usual, did not 
 entertain the slightest doubt as to his ca- 
 pability of performing the duties of an 
 amanuensis, which he had often done 
 faithfully and well when in a similar 
 condition. Jamie, perfectly confident in 
 his own powers, began in the usual way, 
 by folding in the usual marginal allow- 
 ance of foolscap, and the bed-fast advocate 
 opened up his flow of dictation, implicit- 
 ly believing that not one of his precious 
 words would, be suffered to escape by his 
 infallible dependent. He continued to 
 sentence forth his long-winded paragraphs 
 for several hours, and then drawing aside 
 , the curtain in order to rise he was thun- 
 der-struck, on observing that his clerk — 
 for once faithless — was profoundly sleep 
 ing in his chair, with the paper before 
 him unconscious of ink, and the whole 
 business just as it was before he began to 
 dictate. 
 
 Old Edikburgh Taverns. 
 
 Among the remarkable old taverns were 
 Miles Machphail's (who was nicknamed 
 Lord North, on account -of his personal 
 resemblance to that celebrated minister) 
 — Luckie Jaup's in Bailie Fyfe's close — 
 Metcalfe's, opposite the old Tolbooth, in 
 the Lawn-Market — Tak' a pint and greet 
 near the Parliament house; — Balchild's 
 King's arms Tavern, on the spot, now 
 occupied by the Commercial bank — and 
 Mrs. Flockhart's in the Potterow. 
 
 Mrs. Flockhart's. 
 This landlady seems to have been the 
 « Mirs. Flockhart of Waverly." 
 
 Mrs. Flockhart, or, as she was more 
 ordinarily called,. Luckie Fykie, was a neat, 
 2 O 2 
 
1127 
 
 niE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 24. 
 
 1138 
 
 little, tliin woman, usually habited in a 
 plain, striped blue gown, and apron of 
 the s.ime stuff, with a white " mutch," 
 having a black ribbon round the head, 
 and lappels brought down along the 
 cheeks and tied under the chin. She was 
 well to do in the world ; as the umquhile 
 .Tohn Flucker or Flockhart had left her a 
 good deal of money, together with his whole 
 stock in trade, consisting in a multifarious 
 variety of articles, such as ropes, tea, 
 sugar, whip-shafts, porter," ale, beer, butter, 
 sand, caum stane, herrings, rails, cotton, 
 wicks, papers, pens, ink, wafers, thread, 
 needles, tapes, potatoes, rubbers, gundy, 
 spunks, colored eggs in their seasons, &c. 
 &c. — constituting what was then called a 
 " merchant," and now a small grocer. 
 Mrs. Flockhart sat, moreover, in a " front 
 loft " in Mr. Pattieson's ghostly chapel 
 in Bristo street, and was welllooked-upon 
 by all her neighbours, on account of the 
 quality of her visitors. Iler premises 
 were situated directly opposite to Robb's 
 (now Chalmers') Entry ; and, within a 
 space about fifteen feet square, she had a 
 shop, dwelling-house, and hotel, agree- 
 ably to the following diagram : 
 
 WELLING HOUSE. 
 
 A Screen, 
 
 Closet. 
 
 "T r 
 
 i 
 
 I Doon 
 
 Potter-row, 
 
 Mrs. Flockhart's customers were very 
 numerous and respectable, including Mr. 
 Dundas, afterwards lord Melville, — lord 
 Stonefield, — lord Braxfield, — Sheriff 
 Cockhum, — Mr. Scott, father of sir Walter 
 — Mr. Donald Smith, banker,—and Dr. 
 Cullen. The use and wont of these gen- 
 tlemen, on entering the shop, and finding 
 Mrs. Flockhart engaged with customers, 
 was, to salute her with ." Hoo do ye doo, 
 mem 1. " and a covp de chapeau, and then 
 walk " ben " to the room, where, upon 
 the bunker ^eat of the window, they found 
 three tcttles, iieverally containing brandy. 
 
 rum, and whiskey, flanked by biscuits and 
 gingerbread ; the latter, either in thin, 
 crisp, square cakes, called " Parliament " 
 — in round pieces, denominated " Snaps" 
 — or in thin soft cakes, chequered on the 
 surface, and, according to its color, called 
 white or brown " Quality," and biscuits. 
 The gentlemen seldom sat down, but, 
 after partaking of what bottle they chose, 
 walked quickly off. Upon certain occa- 
 sions, there was provided more solid fare 
 than these simple refreshments — such as a 
 chop-steak stew, prepared by Mrs. Flock- 
 hart's own skilful hands. This enter- 
 tainment, termed a " soss," was always 
 laid out on the bunker seat in the clos£t, 
 which was covered with a cleaii napkin, 
 there being room besides only for a Chair. 
 After the death of her first husband, 
 Mrs. Flockhart, despairing oi" another, 
 her stock (£ 800) in the hand& of a 
 banker, who allowed her a certain annuity. 
 But she afterwards did procure another 
 husband — namely, a highland pedlar, who, 
 finding his hands much cramped by the 
 annuity affair, proceeded to dilapidate her 
 stock in trade, and was at length caught 
 stealing (ominous article !) a coil of ropes. 
 The old lady's banker, who was also her 
 relation, then ordered the hotel to be 
 shut up; and she died afterwards in 
 Middleton'f Entry, while enjoying the 
 said annuity. 
 
 Dannie's. 
 
 Daniel Douglas's Tavern, or, as it was 
 more commonly called, Dannie's Tavern, 
 was situated in the Anchor close, near 
 the Cross. The house of which it com- 
 posed one flat is extremely ancient, and 
 was probably built for some religious 
 purpose, as over the door, which is the 
 second on the left hand down the close, 
 there is the following inscription — " o 
 
 LORD IN THE IS AL MY TRAIST. " DaU- 
 
 nie's Tavern has been shut up for many 
 years, like a plague-cellar; and the door, 
 and the long, tall, religious-looking win- 
 dows are overgrown with dust. Of course, 
 it is at present impossible to get ad- 
 mission into the very scene of the orgies of 
 the Pley dells and Fairfords, the Hays 
 and the Erskines, of the last century; 
 but curiosity may be gratified by the 
 sight of the outside of a long line of 
 windows, indicatingagallery within, alon^ 
 which those votaries of bacchanalian glory 
 formerly passed to their orgies. 
 
 During the period when it flourished, 
 Douglas's was one of the most noted and 
 
1129 • 
 
 THE TEAR BOOK— SEPTEMBER 2i. 
 
 1130 
 
 respectable taverns in Edinburgh. It 
 could only be reckoned inferior to the 
 Star and Garter, in Writer's court, which 
 «fas kept by Clerihvtgh, and which was 
 the chief resort of the then magistrates of 
 Edinburgh (who had all their regular 
 parties there,) as well as of Dr. Webster, 
 lord Gardenstone, David Hume, John 
 Home, and James Boswell. The entrance 
 TaMoDougUa'i was by a low narrow passage, 
 and up a few steps— in every respect re- 
 sembling the description of Pley dell's 
 Saturday-night house in Guy Mannering. 
 The guests, before getting to any of the 
 rooms, had to traverse the kitchen — a 
 dark, fiery Pandemonium, through which 
 numerous ineffable ministers of flame 
 were constantly flying about, like the 
 devils in a sketch of the valley of the 
 Shadow of Death, in the Pilgrim's Pro- 
 gress. Close by the door of the kitchen 
 sat Mrs. Douglas, a woman of immense 
 bulk, splendidly arrayed in a head-dress 
 of stupendous grandeur, and a colored 
 silk-gowD, with daisies upon it like sun- 
 flowers, and tulips as big as cabbages. 
 Upon the entry of guests, she never rose 
 from her seat, either because she was un- 
 able from fatness, or that, by sitting, she 
 might preserve the greater dignity. Slie 
 only bowed as they passed ; there were 
 numerous waiters and slip-shod damsels, 
 ready to obey her directions as to the 
 rooms in which the customers should be 
 disposed ; and when they went out, another 
 graceful bend of the head acknowledged 
 her sense of gratitude. 
 
 Daunie himself (for so he was always 
 called) was — in perfect contrast to his 
 wife — limber, nimble, and insignificant. 
 He precisely personified Shakspeare's 
 Francis, with only a few more words, but 
 fully as passive and inane. The genius 
 •and tongue of his helpmate had evidently 
 been too much for him ; she kept him in 
 the most perfect subjection, and he acted 
 under her as a sort of head-waiter. He 
 spoke very seldom — only when he was 
 obliged to do so by a question — and 
 seemed to h<ive no ideas further than 
 what were required to make a mono- 
 syllabic answer. Quietness — humble, 
 peaceful, noteless quietness — was the 
 passion of the man. He did every thing 
 quietly — ^walked quietly, spoke quietly, 
 looked quietly, and even thought quietly. 
 He lived under his breath. So completely 
 was he imbued with the spirit of quiet- 
 ness, or such was the efiect of his quiet 
 habitSj that he acquired a trick of inter- 
 
 jecting the word " quietly," whenever he 
 opened his mouth, or adding it to the 
 ends of all his little quiet sentences, 
 without regard to the construction of the 
 said sentences, or the turn which it some- 
 times gave to their sense. Nor could he 
 restrain himself from uttering it, even 
 when speaking of things which had no 
 relation whatever to quietness. A gen- 
 tleman one day on entering the housp, 
 and being attended by Daunte, asked him, 
 in a trivial way, ^f there were any news 
 to day, " No — sir " lisped the weakling, 
 — " though — I — ^believe — the — Castle 
 has — been — firing — the — day, — quietly. " 
 On another occasion, being met in the 
 street, along which he glided like a ghost, 
 he was asked how Mrs. Douglas was 
 to-day, " Ou, — sir, — she's — aye— flytin — 
 away — quietly. " 
 
 JOaunie's Tavern was remarkable, above 
 all other things, for its cheap and com- 
 fortable suppers. Vast numbers of people 
 of every rank and profession, not except- 
 ing noblemen and judges, used to frequent 
 it on this account. Tripe, minced coUops, 
 rixzared haddocks, and haches, were the 
 general fare; and, what will surprise 
 modern hosts, as well as modern guests, 
 sixpence a-head was the humble charge 
 for all these plenteous purveyances ! Yet, 
 such were the efi^ects of Daniel's good 
 management, that he got rich upon these 
 charges, and left Mrs. Douglas, when lie 
 died, in very good circumstances. 
 
 The convivialities of the time appear to 
 have often assumed the shape of supper- 
 parties. Undisguised " even down 
 drinking" was not the habit of all. There 
 was a considerable minority of respect- 
 able persons, who wished to have some 
 excuse for their potations, and this was 
 aiforded by their professing to meet at 
 supper. Nevertheless, perhaps, while they 
 seemed to gather together, as by chance, 
 in Mrs. Douglas's, for the mere sake of 
 the " crumb o' tripe," or the " twa-three 
 peas,'' or the " bit lug o' haddo' " (for such • 
 were the phrases), social mirth was in 
 true verity their only object. Nor was 
 the supper without its use ; for, though 
 some partook of it only as an incentive 
 to subsequent potations, it generally acted 
 as a sort of ballast in steadying their 
 over-crowded top-sails through the tem- 
 pests of the night. 
 
 The rooms in Daunie's tavern were all 
 in a string, the kitchen being placed in the 
 first rank, like a fugle-man, and serving to 
 remind the fuests, at their entry, of cer 
 
U3! 
 
 •"UE YEAR BOOK— SEPTEMBER 25. 
 
 1133 
 
 tain treats and indulgences which their 
 stomachs would not otherwise have thought 
 of. Beyond this; there was a passage or 
 gallery, from which the rooms were en- 
 tered, as well as lighted, and at the end 
 was a large room, Jighted from both sides. 
 The latter was the scene of maiiy a game 
 (similar to that of " high jinks " described 
 in Guy Mannering), played on Saturday- 
 nights by a club of venerable compotators, 
 who had met regularly for the better part 
 of a century, and grown, not gray, but 
 red, in each other's company. 
 
 HtGH< JlKKS. 
 
 This drinking sport, well known in 
 Scotland, Allan Ramsey calls a " drunken 
 game, or new project to drink and be rich." 
 Thus, the quaff or cup is filled to the brim ; 
 then one of the company takes a pair of 
 dice, and, after crying Hy-Jinks, he throws 
 them out : the number he casts up points 
 out the person that must drink ; He who 
 threw beginning at himself No. 1, and 
 so round till the number of the persons 
 agree witli that of the dice (which may 
 fall upon himself if the number be within 
 twelve ;) then he sets the dice to him, or 
 bids him take them ; he on whom they 
 fall is obliged to drink, or pay a small 
 forfeiture in money; then throws, and so 
 or. : but if he forgets to cry Hy-jinks he 
 pays a forfeiture into the bank. Now he 
 on whom it falls to drink, if there be 
 any think in bank worth drawing, gets 
 it all if he drinks. Then, witn a great 
 deal of caution, he empties his cup, 
 sweeps up the money, and orders the cup 
 to be filled again, and then throws ; for, 
 if he err in the articles, he loses the pri- 
 vilege of drawing the money. The ar- 
 ticles are (1) Drink. (2) Draw. (3) Fill. 
 (4) Cry Hy-jinks. (5) Count just. (6) 
 Choose your doublet man, w. when two 
 equal numbers of the dice are thrown, 
 the person whom you choose must pay a 
 doiible of the common forfeiture, and so 
 must you when the dice is in hand. " A 
 rare project .this," adds honest Allan, " and 
 no bubble, I can assure you j for a covet- 
 ous man may save money, and get him- 
 self as drunk as he can desire, in less 
 than iti hour's time, " 
 
 Fa ers. 
 
 According to Ramsay Facers were " A 
 
 club of fair drinkers who inclined rather 
 
 to spend a shilling on ale than two-pence 
 
 for meat. They had their name from . a 
 
 rule they observed of' obliging themselves 
 to throw all they left in the cupin their 
 own faces ; wherefore, to save their, faces 
 and clothes, they prudently suck'd the 
 liquor clean out.' 
 
 A Drinking Bono.. 
 Fill the cup, the bowl, the glass. 
 
 With wine and spirits high. 
 And we will drink, while Tound they pass. 
 
 To — Vice and Misery! 
 Push quickly found the draught again 
 
 And drink the goblet low ; 
 And drink in revelry's swelling strain. 
 
 To — HeaiOjCsov^tlwoWt 
 Push round, push round, in quickest time. 
 
 The lowest drop be spent. 
 In one loud round, to — Quilt and Ctinte 
 
 And' Crime's' just punishment ! 
 Fill fiirsgain !— fill to the brim ; 
 
 To — Loss of honest fame ! 
 Quaff— deeper quaff— while now we drink • 
 
 Our Wives* and Children's shame / 
 
 Push round, and round, with loudest cheers 
 
 Of mirthand revelry — 
 We drink to — Woman's sighs and tears. 
 
 And — Children's poverty. 
 Once more ! while power shall yet remain. 
 
 E'en with its latest breath, 
 Orink ! — To odrselves Disease and Pain, 
 
 And Infamy and Death ! 
 
 25th September, ,1825. About this 
 time a bird of the cormorant kind flying 
 over the river, near Rippon, snapped, up 
 a fish, which just at that moment had 
 .•made a leap from the water ; while the 
 bird was devouring his prey he was shot 
 on the banks of the river, and, on being 
 opened, a gold broach, of the value of tea 
 guineas, was found in his maw. A si- 
 milar circumstance happened about three 
 months before, near Dewsbury.* 
 
 The cormorant subsists upon fish. It 
 is probable that jeweHery, coin, and si- 
 milar articles sometimes found in the 
 stomachs of these voracious birds, had 
 been, previously swallowed by their prey. 
 
 Epitabh. 
 In the Churchyard of Hythe, 
 Ilis net old fisher George long drew, 
 
 Sboals upon shoals he caught, 
 'Till Death came hauling for his due, 
 And made poor George his draught; 
 
 * British Traveller. 
 
1133 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 26. 
 
 1S4 
 
 Death fishes on through various shapes ; 
 
 In viin it is to fret; 
 Nor fish or fisherman esMpes 
 
 Death's all-enclosing net. 
 
 h. m 
 September 25.— Day breaks ..44 
 Sun rises ..60 
 — sets ... 6 
 Twilight ends . 7 56 
 Various species of cereopsis,helianthus, 
 radbukin, and other late sytigenecian 
 plants abound. 
 
 S(«|jtcntfi«r 26. 
 
 BoOKSELtEUS OF LiTTLE BRITAIN. 
 
 The last of the old booksellers in Little 
 B[itain was Ballard, remarkable for cu- 
 rious divinity catalogues, who died to- 
 wards the close of the last century. The 
 lion. Roger North gives an account of 
 the place, and some of the fraternity in 
 tlie century preceding. He says, "Mr. 
 Robert Scott, of Little Britain, was, in 
 his time, the greatest librarian in Europe; 
 for, besideshis stock in England, he had 
 warehouses at Francfort, Paris, and other 
 places, and dealt -by factors. After he 
 was grown old^nd much worn by -multi- 
 plicity of business, he beigan to think of 
 liis ease, and to leave off: hereupon he 
 contracted with one Mr. Mills, of St. 
 Paul's Church Yard, near £lO,000 deep, 
 and articled not to Open his shop any 
 more. But Mills, with his auctioneering, 
 atlasses, and projects, failed; wbereby 
 poor Scott lost above half his means. 
 But he held to his contract of not opening 
 his shop ; and, when he was in London, 
 for he had a country house, passed most 
 of his time at his house amongst the rest 
 of his books; and his reading (for he 
 was no mean scholar), was the chief en- 
 tertainment of his time. He was not 
 only a very great bookseller, but a very 
 conscientious good man; and, when he 
 threw up bis trade, Europe had no small 
 loss of him. Little Britain was, in the 
 middle of the last century, a plentiful em- 
 porium of learned authors ; and men went 
 thither as to a market. This drew to the 
 place a mighty trade, the rather because 
 the shops were spacious, and the learned 
 gladly resorted to them, where they sel- 
 dom failed to meet with agreeable con- 
 versation ; and the booksellers themselves 
 were knowing and conversable men, with 
 whom, for the sake of bookish "know- 
 ledge, the greatest -wits were pleased to 
 
 converse ; and we may judge the time as 
 well spent there as (in latter days) either 
 in laverns or coffee-houses, though the 
 latter hath carried off the spare lime of 
 most people. But now this emporium is 
 vanished, and the trade contracted into 
 the hands of two or three persons, who, 
 to make good their monopoly, ransack 
 not only their neighbours of the trade, 
 that are scattered about town, but all 
 over England ; aye, and beyond the sea 
 too ; and send abroad their circulators, 
 and in that manner get into their hands 
 all that is valuable ; and the rest of the 
 trade are content to take their refuse, 
 with which, and the first scum of the 
 press, they furnish one side of a shop, 
 which serves for the sign of a bookseller, 
 rather than a real one; but, instead of 
 selling, deal as factors, and procure what 
 the country divines and gentry send for, 
 of whom each one has his book-factor ; 
 amd, when wanting any thing, writes to 
 his .bookseller, and pays his bill ; and it 
 is wretched to consider what pickpocket 
 work, with the help of the press, these 
 demi-boqksellers make; they crack their 
 brains to find out selling subjects, and 
 ksep hirelings in -garrets, on hard meat, 
 to write and correct by the groat ; so puff 
 up an octavo to a sufficient thickness, and 
 there is six shillings current for an hour 
 and a half's reading, and perhaps never 
 to be read or looked upon after. One 
 that would go higher must take his for- 
 tune at blank walls and corners of streets, 
 or repair to the sign of Bateman, Innys, 
 and one or two more, where are best 
 choice and better pennyworths." In 
 Geoffrey Crayon's Sketch Book there is 
 a delightful paper on the residents in 
 Little Britain. 
 
 ll. m. 
 
 September 26. — Day breaks ..46 
 
 Sun rises ..62 
 
 — sets ... 5 58 
 
 Twilight ends . 7 54 
 
 Damsons and buUices ripening fast. 
 
 "A HALF HOLIDAY. 
 ».r the Year Book.] 
 
 One sultry summer's afternoon, having 
 a little business to transact at Deptford, 
 I quitted the city belintes, resolving, not 
 to return to it that day, but after accom- 
 plishing my purpose to wander wherever 
 my inclioation might lead me. 
 
1135 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 26 
 
 1136 
 
 The venerable tower of St. Nicholas 
 church was the first object of attention, and 
 I halted to transfer it to my sketch book. 
 The body is a mean red-brick building, 
 erected early in the last century, one in- 
 dividual — at that time high sheriff for 
 the county^contributing upwards of nine 
 hundred pounds towards the cost of it. 
 Of this sum, a considerable portion was 
 applied to the " charnel house," though 
 I know not whether we are indebted to 
 this gentleman's munificence for those , 
 enormous death's heads, crowned with 
 laurel, I which grin horribly on the piers 
 of the church-yard gates. 
 
 Passing the aim's houses of the Trinity 
 corporation, I came' presently to the 
 Ravensbourn, which having first received 
 a small stream from Lee, called in old 
 records " the little bourne," disembogues 
 itself into the Thames at this place. 
 
 I crossed it by a neat iron bridge with 
 stone piers, designed by Mr. James 
 Walker, and erected by Messrs. Hunter 
 and English, at each end of which I 
 observed the inscription hei-e copied :— 
 
 INCEPTUS. 
 IV. JUN : MDCCCXIV. 
 
 die: Nat: Gpon: iii. ixxvii. 
 
 ANN : REG : LIV. 
 
 FIMITCS 
 
 IV. JUN : MDCCCXV. 
 
 die: NAT: GEO: iii. Lxxviii. 
 
 ANN : REG : LV. 
 
 I remained for someminutes lookjngup the 
 sluggish stream, gleaming in the mellow 
 haze of noon and darkened here and 
 there with craft of various sorts and sizes, 
 and over the congregated roofs beyond it 
 to the green-topt hills in tlie distance, on 
 one of which, between Peckham and 
 Sydenham, I had often traced the vestiges 
 of a camp mentioned by Mr. Bray in 
 his History of Surrey, supposed to have 
 Vteen constructed by the Romans, but 
 used afterwards by the Danes, w,ho for 
 a long time lay " at rode," not far distant 
 in the river behind .me, pillaging the 
 country " as often as they would," and 
 putting to a merciless and ignominious 
 death the pious Alphege, to whom the 
 neighbouring church of Greenwich is 
 dedicated. These musings called to my 
 remembrance the "composure" follow- 
 ing, made long since on an old bone 
 picked up within the limits of this same 
 camp — 
 
 Bonus ! liana ! Bonum ! which incans, you 
 know. 
 
 He-Lone, she-bone, bone of the neuter gender. 
 Or by what name soever thou may'st go. 
 Bone of a certain age, tough bone or tender ! 
 Art thou a rib of that illustrious Sane 
 Hight Swcyne by those old rogues who wrote 
 
 his history ? 
 Or part and parcel of some other swain ? 
 Spcali, if thou canst speak, and resolve thi 
 
 mystery ! , 
 Thou wett, aforetime, that which now thou an 
 (For ceilain things change not with chang- 
 ing time), 
 Haply, some hard, unyielding, Bongparl 
 Too stern for verse, too rigid for a rhyme. 
 So I'll betake me to mine ease again. 
 Restrain the muse, and lay aside my'pen. 
 
 I strolled onwards to Greenwich, and 
 came soon in sight of the new church ot 
 St. Mary, finely set off by the green 
 hill beyond it, and those groves of song 
 forming the park, which I soon entered, 
 and, seeking a quiet spot, lay down on the 
 soft sward to gaze at the deep blue 
 heavens, and listen to the pleasant piping 
 of the birds around me. Of these there 
 were many, and they sat discoursing most 
 excellent music on the knotty old haw- 
 thorns, silvered with age and partially 
 leafless, with which this place abounds. I 
 half raised myself to look around, and, 
 though every thing was boisterously 
 happy, derived little satisfaction from the 
 scene, my heart melting withiir me and 
 becoming rapidly overshadowed with 
 heavy thoughts, and bitter reminiscences — . 
 And so it often chanceth, from the might 
 Of joy in minds that can no farther go, — 
 As high as we have mounted in delight. 
 In our dejection do we sink as low.* 
 
 I passed round One-tree-hill, and over 
 a green level, to the gate which opens 
 upon Vanbrugh house, and, as I gazed at 
 that ponderous jumble of brick and 
 mortar, thought of its worthy architect, 
 and this apt epitaph upon him : — 
 " Lie heavy on him Earth ! — for he 
 Laid many a heavy load on thee !" 
 
 Nor could I forget that reasonable 
 wish of the pncient ethnicks, which gives 
 it so much point — " that the tombe stones 
 of their dead friends might be light unto 
 them, and that a perpetuall springe-tide 
 of all kind of fragrant flowers might en- 
 circle their verdant graves." 
 
 After satisfying a pardonable curiosity 
 by staring in mute wonderment at its 
 massy " out works," I pursued my way 
 through Vanbrugh fields, and soon reached 
 
 * Wordsworth, 
 
ii3r 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 28. 
 
 1138 
 
 CHARLTON CHURCH, KENT. 
 
 'Woodlands, a pretty villa of modern erec- 
 tion, though not a little bleached with the 
 ashy rust of antiquity, standing in a 
 butter-cup meadow, veiy like a mould 
 of blanche mange surrounded with a pro- 
 fusion of sliced lemon. 
 
 On emerging from the fields, I de- 
 scended a shady lane towards the river, 
 commanding to the right some romantic 
 and varied scenery, with the tower of 
 Charlton church peering above it. 
 
 ' there with pendant boughs 
 
 The thick shrubs clipg, and straggling oaks 
 
 protrude 
 Their pollard trunks, with ivy close enwreathed ; 
 While slender afihlins o'er the stony brow 
 Bend their grey stems, and quiver in the 
 
 breeze. 
 There the loud cuckoo rings her double chime ; 
 While, softly sweet, the blackbird fills the air 
 With amorous descant, and the chattering jay 
 On streaky plumage rustles through the wood."* 
 
 The blank and homeless aspect of the 
 Thames at low water, and the swampy 
 coast of Essex in the distance, presented 
 little to interest a mind wasted with many 
 
 • Blackhcath, a poem, 1808. 
 
 cares, and seeking solace in the gentleness 
 and quiet of nature ; nor was the monotony 
 of a hot dusty road likely to minister 
 that peace of which I was now in quest, 
 and in reference to which I was asking 
 tnyself, in the words of good old Herbert, — 
 
 " Sweet peace, where dost thou dwell I humbly 
 
 crave 
 Let me once know ?" 
 
 I toiled up the steep picturesque road 
 leading to Charlton, charmed with the 
 beauty and seclusion of the grassy dingles 
 to my right, beside a long sunny wall, 
 occasionally shadowed by the rich 
 foliage which trembled over it, and almost 
 shut out from view the neat church tower 
 terminating the landscape. On reaching 
 its summit T lay down on the grass be- 
 neath the shelter of a friendly hedge, 
 —-preferring, with Shakspeare, the silent 
 shades of a hawthorn, to the bewildering 
 splendors of the richest canopy — and made 
 the accompanying sketch of Charlton 
 Church.* 
 
 • From which 
 taken. 
 
 the above engraving is 
 
1139 
 
 THE YEAIl BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 27. 
 
 1140 
 
 I passed an hour in its cemetery, con- 
 ning over tlie epitaphs with wliich it 
 abounds, and listening to the little folks 
 whose " young ideas " were just learning 
 to shoot with Dilworth for a prime?^ 
 and Priscian for a buit, in the adjoining 
 school-room, " erected at the charge of 
 Sir William Langhorne, Bart.,' in 1713." 
 And truly they murdered most valiantly the 
 king's English, impetuously and obstinate- 
 ly asserting their reversionary interest in 
 every 'on' — ' no ' — ' saw ' — ' was ' — 
 ' but ' — and ' tuV which they stumbled on, 
 to the manifest discomfiture of their 
 worthy pedagogue, who, in despair of 
 rearing the " tender thought, " paid con- 
 siderable attention to raising the cane. 
 
 I noticed particularly a handsome tomb 
 to the memory of a certain gentleman of the 
 place," who by industry acquired, by eco- 
 nomy improved, and with equity dispensed, 
 a considerable fortune amongst his surviv- 
 ing friends." But the circumstance most 
 worthy of note is, that the name of this 
 individual should have proved so prophe- 
 tic of his future history, for I found it to 
 be " John Tu-nnenm/, esq.," and that he 
 died the 9th Dec. 1756, aged 57. 
 
 Before quitting the spot, I copied the 
 foUowing'linfes, which are prettily modu- 
 lated, though the idea expressed in them 
 is by no means original, — 
 
 " E&rly, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew. 
 She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven.'^ — 
 
 " She did but take a transient glimpse of life. 
 Found it replete with dangers and alarms. 
 
 Then shrunk dismayed beforo the scene of 
 strife. 
 And fled for refuge to her Saviour's arms " 
 
 The princely house built by Sir Adam 
 Newton, opposite the church, claimed a 
 brief attention on account of its marble 
 chimney piece, so exquisitely polished 
 that my Lord Doune saw reflected in it 
 a robbery committed on Blackheath, or 
 as some say Shooter's-hill, and so oppor- 
 tunely were the servants sent out that the 
 thief was apprehended. 
 
 I returned along the road and crossed 
 Blackheath, towards Lee, where I sav 
 nothing worthy of record excepting an 
 old seat 'of the Boones, and their family 
 vault in the church yard, with a ponde- 
 rous door covered with rust and mildew, 
 and half hidden by the huge fern-leaves 
 fringing its " devouring mouth, " and 
 straggling in wild profusion over the crazy 
 steps leading to it. 
 
 m. a. 
 
 Sbtvttmtev 27. 
 
 27th September, 1788, died, aged 
 seventy-four, Sir Robert Taylor, knight, 
 architect to the Bank of England, and 
 other public offices. His father was the 
 great stone-mason of his time, and got a 
 vast deal of money; but could not keep 
 what he got. When life was less gaudy 
 than it is now, and the elegant indul- 
 gences of it were rare, old Taylor, the 
 mason, revelled at a village in Essex, 
 and kept a coach. Excepting some 
 common schooling, a fee when he went 
 pupil to Sir Henry Cheere, and just 
 money enough to travel on a plan of 
 frugal study to Rome, Robert Taylor got 
 nothing'from his father. Before his purpose 
 at Rome was completed, his father died ; 
 and the son hurried homewards during a 
 war on the continent. Assuming the ap- 
 parel of a friar he joined a Franciscan, 
 and so passed unmolested through the 
 enemy's camp. When he came to En- 
 land, he found that to live he must work, 
 and that his work must be good. He, 
 therefore, worked in good earnest, ad- 
 vanced hinjselt in art by application, and 
 what could be done he never ceased to 
 do. His best work, as a sculptor, is 
 Guest's monument in Westminster Ab- 
 bey. After executing Britannia at the 
 Bank, and the bas-relief in the Mansion- 
 House pediment, he relinquished statuary, 
 unless incidentally in house-ornament, 
 and confined his pursuits to architecture. 
 Here he was strong ; for hs was sure in 
 his principles, and correct in applying 
 them. His plans were free from faults. 
 In reference to beauty, perhaps, his Rich- 
 mond villa for Sir Charles Asgill is the 
 best. His additions to tlie Bank constitute 
 his finest public woik. Lord Grimston's, 
 at Gorhambury, was his last private work. 
 -Old London-bridge he altered in 1756 
 and 1758, as it stands at present, in con- 
 junction with Mr. Dance. He had a seat 
 at the Board of Works, was surveyor to 
 the Admiralty, Greenwich hospital, and 
 the Foundling hospital, with numerous 
 surveyorships and agencies of the first 
 property in the kingdom. Asthe archi- 
 tect of his own fortune, there is no in- 
 stance in art like it. Kent died worth 
 £10,000, and Gibbs »bout £25,000. Sir 
 Christopher Wren built the first palace, 
 the first hospital, the first cathedral, fifty- 
 five churches, the Monument, and seven 
 other public edifices, and died.worth only 
 £50,000. Sir Robert Taylor realized 
 
11-11 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— SEPTEMBEU 28. 
 
 1142 
 
 £180,000; and yet lie said "when he 
 began life he was not worth eighteen 
 pence I" This astonishing accumulation 
 was the growth of his last forty years. 
 He never slept after four in the morning. 
 When he had a journey to make, he did 
 it in the night, and never slept on the , 
 road but in a carriage. When other 
 people were at diversions, he was in bed> 
 and while they were in bed his day was 
 far advanced in useful avocations. His 
 diet was little animal food, and no wine. 
 Thus, in temperance, if not in imagina- 
 tion, he may be compared with Sir C. 
 Wren. In them was another resem- 
 blance; they were both very devout: 
 whatever might be the distractions of the 
 day, they found opportunity, like the 
 great Boerhaave, to consecrate, both in 
 the morning and in the eveniiig, a stated 
 portion of their time to religious duties. 
 In the moral wisdom of life they were 
 equally to be envied. Sir Robert Taylor 
 knew the value of money, but it did not 
 outweigh claims upon his justice. When 
 he stepped forward in any public trust, in 
 the magistracy, or in the little policies of 
 his district, his intelligence and free spirit 
 carried all before him. His honor, inte- 
 grity, and the experienced purity of his 
 intentions, were often relied upon for the 
 fulfilment of purposes he had not d^ared, 
 and the reliance was never disappointed. 
 His conduct as sheriff of London and 
 Middlesex in 1783 was exemplary, and 
 he was then knighted. His tirtie, pro- 
 perty, experience of life, assiduous ef- 
 fort, and remote influence, all were at the 
 service of his friends. He was all in- 
 ventive wish and strenuous co-operation. 
 In the last hour of life his friends were in 
 his thoughts. He gave directions in their 
 behalf, and suspended the consolations of 
 religion till he had finished letters in favor 
 of Mr. Cockerell and Mr. Craig, who had 
 been his pupils, ,to get them new pa- 
 tronage, and to secure to them better 
 than they had. In half an hour after- 
 wards he died.* 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 September 27.— Day breaks . . 
 
 4 9 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 6 4 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 5 56 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 7 51 
 
 Saffron crocus flowers. 
 
 
 " Gcnta. Magazine. 
 
 
 Sb^ptemtiet 28. 
 
 Milton's Blikdness. 
 [For the Year-Book.] 
 28 September, 1654. Under this dale 
 there is a letter from Milton, then re- 
 siding at Westminster, containing some 
 account of the beginning and progress of 
 his blindness. A copy is subjoined. It 
 is afldressed to Leonard Fhilaras, an 
 Athenian, and forms part of a small col- 
 lection .of Milton's " Familiar Letters," 
 published by Brabazon Aylmer in 1674. 
 H. B. Andrews. 
 
 Miltcm'i Letter, 
 
 f As I have been from a boy a great 
 admirer of every thing that bore the Gre- 
 cian, name, and more particularly of your 
 own Athens, so likewise have I been ever 
 fully persuaded that that city would some 
 time or other ms^ke me an excellent com- 
 pensation for the attachment which I 
 Lave always expressed towards it. This 
 persuasion of mine the ancient genius of 
 your illustrious country has kindly ac- 
 complished in giving me an Athenian 
 friend, so strongly endeared to me ; who 
 at a time when I was known to him only 
 by my writings, and at aniinmense disti^nce 
 from him, sent me the most obliging let- 
 ters, and afterwards coming unexpectedly 
 to London, and visiting me, when I was 
 deprived of my sight, even in that dis- 
 tressing situation, which could add 
 nothing to my respect, and which might 
 be slighted by many, still treated me with 
 the same affection. 
 
 "Since, therefore, you have recom- 
 jnended me not to relinquish all hopes c£ 
 recovering my sight,- as you have a most 
 intimate friend in Mr. Tbevenot, a phy- 
 sician of Paris, who is celebrated for his 
 successfiil treatment of disorders in the 
 eye, and whom you offer to consult on 
 my case, if you, can hear from me the 
 cause and symptoms of my blindness, 
 which it will be necessary for him to 
 know, I shall certainly comply with your 
 . wishes, that I may not appear to r^ect 
 assistance from any quarter which per- 
 haps may be, providently sent for my 
 relief. 
 
 " It is now I believe ten years,.more or 
 - less, since I found my sight growing weak 
 and diip ; at the same time I experienced 
 a melancholy affection attended with dis- 
 ordered bowels and flatulency. If I 
 began to read at all in the morning, as I 
 was accustomed to do, my eye hall« 
 
1143 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 28. 
 
 1144 
 
 inbtalitly pained me, and shrunk from 
 their ofiice, but recovered after a moderate 
 exercise of the body. Whenever I looked 
 at a candle, it appeared surrounded with 
 a kind of rainbow. Not a long time 
 afterwards a darkness, which began in the 
 left part of my eye (for that eye was dim 
 some years before the other) concealed 
 every object situated on that side. 
 Whatever likewise was in front of me, if 
 I appeared to shut my right eye, appeared 
 less. My other eye has gradually failed 
 me for the last three years ; and, a few 
 months before it became quite dark, every 
 thing which I looked at stedfastly seemed 
 to swim before me, sometimes to the 
 right hand and sometimes to the left; 
 continued mists appeared settled on the 
 whole part of my forehead and temples, 
 which usually press and weigh down my 
 eyes, particularly after dinner, until the 
 evening, with a kind of sleeping heavi- 
 ness, so that I often think of the fate of 
 Pbineas in ApoUonius : — 
 
 In purple mist profound 
 His eyes involvM, seem on its centre deep 
 To see old earth turn round, while mute be 
 
 lay 
 In helpless drowsiness. 
 But I should not omit to mention, tha. 
 while I had yet some sight remaining, as 
 soon as I lay down in bed, and reclined 
 on either side with my eyes shut, there 
 used to shine forth an abundance of light ; 
 and afterwards, as the light was daily on 
 the decrease, colors of a darkish cast 
 rushed before me with a certain inward 
 and violent crush. Now, however, the 
 light is extinguished, and nothing pre- 
 sents itself but pure darkness, or diver- 
 sified as it were, interwoven with a ciu- 
 eritious or ash color. But the darkness 
 which continually clouds my sight 
 approaches, as well by night as by day, 
 rather to a white than to a black hue; 
 and on turning my eye it admits a small 
 portion 'of light, as if through a little 
 crevice. Although this may afford some 
 hopes to the physician, yet I resign and 
 compose myself as in a case that defies a 
 remedy. I likewise often reflect on this, 
 that since to every man are allotted many 
 days of darkness (as we are told by the 
 wise man) mine as yet through the favor 
 of heaven, ' which has given me leisure 
 and resources, with the calls and conver- 
 sations of my~ friends, have been much 
 more easy than those fatal days. But if, 
 as it is written, " man does not live by 
 bread alone, but by every word that pro- 
 
 ceedeth out of the mouth of God," what 
 reason is there why a man should not rest 
 satisfied, that it is not with sight alone, 
 but with the guidance and providence of 
 God, that his eyes can avail him.' Surely 
 while he regards, while he considers me,, 
 as he certainly does, and leads me, as it 
 were, by the hand as a guide through the 
 whole of my life, I canrtot but willingly 
 resign my sight to him, who has so orr 
 dained it. I bid you adieu, my dear 
 Fhilaras, with as constant and fixed affec- 
 tion as if I had the sight of Lynceas." 
 
 Adtumb, and particularly the Evening 
 of Autumn, has been a chosen season for 
 study and reflection with some of the 
 most exalted spirits of which our country 
 can boast. Milton we know to have 
 been so partial to this period of the year, 
 and so impressed with a conviction of its 
 friendliness to poetic inspiration, as to 
 leave it on record that he felt the prompt- 
 ings of his genius most effectual and satis- 
 factory to himself about the Autumnal 
 Eguinox. 
 
 To Thomson, who partook of much of 
 the sublimity, and possessed an ample 
 share of the pensive enthusiasm of Mil- 
 ton, we are indebted for an express tribute 
 to Autumn, as the season best suited 
 to philosophic thought and poetic com- 
 position. He is describing the retired and 
 contemplative man, who watches with 
 discriminating admiration the phenomena 
 of the revolving year, and who from all 
 he sees and feels derives a source of the 
 purest and most permament enjoyment. 
 He, when young Spring protrudes the buist- 
 
 ing gem?, 
 Marks the first bad, and sucks the healthful 
 
 gale 
 Into his freshened soul ; her genial hours 
 He full enjoys ; and not a beauty blows 
 And not an opening blossom breathes in rain. 
 In summer he, beneath the living shade. 
 Such as o'er frigid Tempe wont to wave 
 Or Hemus cool, reads what the Muse, o{ 
 
 these 
 Perhaps, has in immortal numbers sung : 
 Or what she dictates writes : and, oft an eye 
 Shot round, rejoices in the vigorous year. 
 'When Autumn's yellow lustre gilds the world. 
 And tempts the sickled swain into the field, 
 Seiz'd by the general joy, bis heart distends 
 With gentle throes, and through the tepid 
 
 gleams 
 Deep-musing, then he best exerts his song. 
 
 There is in the grey and sober tinting of 
 an Evening in Autumn, in the many- 
 colored hues of the trembling foliage, in 
 
lUS 
 
 THE YRAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 28. 
 
 1146 
 
 the fitful siglting of the breeze, in the 
 mournful call of the partridge, in the soft 
 low piping of the red-breast, and, above 
 all, in the sweetly-plaintive warbling of 
 the thrush, the blackbird, and the wood- 
 lark, a union of sight and sound which 
 can scarcely fail to touch the breast with 
 a corresponding sense of pensive plea- 
 sure. More especially is this felt to be 
 the case, if, while we are contemplating 
 such a scene, the setting-sun, hitherto 
 shrouded in the gathering gloom, should 
 gleam a farewell lustre on the fields ; it 
 is then, perhaps, that our emotions har- 
 monize most completely with e\ternal 
 nature; it is then that, in the touching 
 language of a contemporary poet,* and in 
 the same exquisite spirit of tender en- 
 thusiasm, we must wish to take our leave 
 of the departing luminary : — 
 
 Faxcwell, farewell [ to others give 
 
 The light thou tak'st from me : 
 Farewell, fuewell ! hid others live 
 
 To joy, or misery. 
 Say, breathes there one who at this hour 
 
 Beholds thy glories shine. 
 And owns thy strangely-thrilling power. 
 
 With feelings such as mine 1 
 For 1 have yiew'd thee as u friend. 
 
 And lovM, at mom or eve. 
 Thy golden progress to attend. 
 
 Thy first, last looli receive. 
 Thou witness of my lonely dreams, 
 
 Inspirer of my shell, 
 hike Memnon's, answering to thy beams. 
 
 Not yet — ^not yet farewell I 
 Hnw soft, how tender a repose 
 
 O'er Nature sheds its balm. 
 Like sorrow, mellowing at the close. 
 
 To resignation calm ! 
 While man's last murmur, hush'd to Test, 
 
 Steals gradual from the ear. 
 As the world's tumult from a breast 
 
 Where heav'n alone is dear. 
 O'er all my soul seems gently shed 
 
 A kindred soften'd light ; 
 I think of hopes that long have fled. 
 
 And scarcely mourn their flight. 
 Once more farewell ! Another day, 
 
 To all, or dark or glad. 
 Fleets with thy vanish'd orb away. 
 
 And am 1 pleas'd or sad 1 
 1 know not. All my soul to speak. 
 
 Vain words their aid deny ; 
 But, oh, the smile is on my cheek. 
 
 The tear is in mine eye ! 
 
 It is this tender melancholy, an eniotio.i 
 originating from some of the finest feel- 
 
 • Mr, Chauncy Hare Townsuend. 
 
 ings which do honor to the Imman heart, 
 that has rendered the evening of the day 
 and year so peculiarly a favorite with 
 the lovers of nature and of nature's God. 
 It is then we cease to commune with the 
 world of roan ; we turn disgusted from 
 its cares, its follies, and its crimes, to seek 
 in solitude and contemplation, in the 
 fields, and woods, and by the fall of 
 waters, that peace and consolation, that 
 wisdom, and that hope, without which 
 our being here would be as the mockery 
 of an idle dream, and our waking from 
 it but one scene of inextinguishable re- 
 gret. It is, in fact, through the vicissi- 
 situde and decay of all around us, through 
 the solemn and the dying aspect of this 
 monitory season, that the voice of our 
 Creator speaks in tones that cannot be 
 misunderstood. They admonish us, that 
 we too are hastening to a temporary dis- 
 solution ; that the^ spring and summer of 
 our days have past, or are fleeting fast 
 away; that the hour is come, or shall 
 approach, when the blanched head, the 
 enfeebled eye, and tottaring step shall 
 assimilate our state to that of the faded 
 and the fallen leaf; when the pride aiid 
 vigor of this earthly frame shall Wither 
 and be extinct, and the heart that throbbed 
 with joy or grief, with auger or with love, 
 shall cease to beat for ever ! — These are 
 reflections which give birth to the noblest 
 emotions that can animate the breast of 
 man. We are dying mid a dying world, 
 an idea which can scarcely be entertained 
 without extinguishing in our minds every 
 harsh and huitful passion — without our 
 feeling, indeed, for all that live around 
 us, that holy sympathy, that kindling 
 charity, from which the strifes and bick- 
 erings, the envy and the hatred, of a self- 
 ish world, must sink appalled away. 
 They are refieclions too, which, while they 
 incline us to humility and philanthropy, 
 to that kindness and commiseration 
 which a mutual and a general fate have 
 awakened in our bosoms, lead us, at the 
 same time, and by the most delightful 
 of channels, a love for all that lives, to 
 put our trust in Him with whom " there 
 is no variableness nor shadow of turning."* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 September 28. — Day breaks . . 4 11 
 
 Sun rise^ ..66 
 
 — sets ... 5 54 
 
 Twilight ends . 7 19 
 
 Autumn crocus flowers. 
 
 * Dr. Drake's Evenings in Autumn. 
 
U4r 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 29. 
 
 1143 
 
 SktVtmitttv 29. 
 
 Michaelmas Day. 
 
 For usages uport this festival, reference 
 may be made to the Euay-Ddy Book, 
 where there is inuch upon the custom, 
 still general iii England, of eating goose 
 at Michaelmas. 
 
 Goose. 
 
 In France the goose is in little repute 
 as a dish, and seldom appears upon the 
 tables of Parisian epicures. The flesh 
 they condemn as coarse and unwholesome ; 
 and the apple-sauce, when mentioned, 
 never fails to elicit flashes of astonish- 
 ment, subsiding into peals of laughter. 
 But the livers and thighs of geese, 
 learnedly made into pies, and properly 
 truffled, 'patis de foies gras,' are reckoned 
 a most delicate article ; although they 
 have killed nearly as many gastronomers 
 as the small pox and scarlet fever have 
 destroyed children. The departtnenf of 
 Perigord, with Toulouse and Bayonne, 
 used, notwithstanding, to cook annually, 
 for the rest of the world, about 120,000 of 
 these lethiferous pies. Large droves of 
 geese were anciently led from Picaidy.to 
 Italy, waddling over the Alps, and con- 
 stantly stooping, according to their pru- 
 dent custom, under the lofty triumphal 
 arches which they happened to pass in their 
 way. Yet geese are not so stupid as they 
 are generally supposed to be. The fa- 
 mous chemist, Lemery, saw a goose turn- 
 ing the spit on which a turkey was roast- 
 ing, unconscious, we hope, that some 
 friend would soon accept the office for 
 her. Alas ! we are all turnspits in this 
 world ; and when we roast a friend let us 
 be aware that many staiid ready to return 
 the complinient.* 
 
 Rue aux Ours is the name of a street in 
 Paris, formerly called Rue aux Oues, an 
 obsolete term for oies (geese), and was 
 given to it on account of the great num- 
 ber of rotisseurs that resided in it. The 
 authors of the " Dictionnaire historique 
 de la Ville de Paris " say ; — " The capons 
 of Mans, the pullets of Mezerai fattened 
 by art, the chickens of Caux, and a thou- 
 sand other luxuries, were absolutely un- 
 known in those old times of moderation 
 and continence, when good morals pre- 
 vailed, and our fathers, less -sensual and 
 delicate than the present generation, re- 
 
 * Notes to Tabula CibaVia, cited la Time's 
 Telescope, 1823. 
 
 galed themselves upon geese, a kind of 
 fowl despised in an age when sensuality 
 and gluttony have the ascendancy. It 
 was not till the reign of Charles IX. that 
 turkeys appeared in France, that is to say, 
 a few years after the discovery of the 
 West Indies. They were originally 
 brought from Mexico, where they are 
 common. It is said that the first turkey 
 was served up at the marriage of Charles 
 IX., and was considered an extraordinary 
 dainty."* 
 
 pr. Thomas Sprat, afterwards bishop 
 of Rochester, took orders at Wadham 
 College, Oxford, and at the restoration 
 became chaplain to the witty and pro- 
 fligate duke of Buckingham. At his first 
 dinner with the duke, his grace, observing 
 a goose opposite to his chaplain, remarked 
 that he wondered why it generally hap- 
 pened that geese were placed near the 
 clergy. " I cannot tell the reason," said 
 Sprat, "but I shall never see a goose 
 again but I shall think of your grace." 
 
 Sprat was the son of a country clergy- 
 man, who sent him to Wadham College, 
 Oxford, where he distinguished himself 
 in mathematics, poetry, and wit. His 
 repartee to the duke of Buckingham won 
 the favor of that nobleman, who found in 
 Sprat the man he wanted. The duke 
 deemed his own writings imperfect, until 
 they had his chaplain's approbation. 
 Sprat's preferment was rapid. He ob- 
 tained a stall at the church of St. MaVga- 
 ret, Westminster, a canonry of Windsor, 
 the deanery of Westminster, and the see 
 of Rochester. The revolution stayfed 
 his further promotion, and involved him 
 in unmerited disgrace. He, and other 
 distinguished persons were charged with 
 unjustly conspiring to restore James II., 
 and seize queen Mary. The falsehood of 
 this accusation was discovered, and they 
 were released. Sprat spent his remaining 
 life in privacy, except when he judged 
 the situation of atfairs peculiarly de- 
 manded his zeal, and theji it biased up. 
 It flamed fiercely during Sacheveicl's 
 trial. His piety was sincere, and he kept 
 as a day of devotion the anniversary of 
 his escape from the wicked snare laid for 
 his life. For his share in drawing up 
 the thanksgiving for James's queen being 
 pregnant he was ridiculed in a ballad 
 beginning, 
 
 • Paris iii. 273. 
 
1149 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— SEPTEMBER 29. 
 
 1150 
 
 Two Toms, and Nat, 
 Id council sat. 
 
 To rig out a thanfisgiving. 
 And make a prayer 
 For a thing in air. 
 
 That's neither dead nor living. - 
 
 The " Two Toms and Nat" refer to 
 Thomas Sprat, bishop of Rochester ; 
 Thomas White, bishop of Peterborough ; 
 and Nathaniel Ciew, bishop of Durham.* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Sfptanber 29. — Day breaks . . 4 13 
 
 Sun rises ..68 
 
 — sets . . . 5 52 
 
 Twilight ends . 7 47 
 
 Swallows migrate, but a few remain 
 
 till October. 
 
 S^temficr 30. 
 
 SWEAKING-IN THE SHERIFF OF LoNDOST 
 
 AND Middlesex. 
 
 On the day after Michaelmas day, or, 
 if that day fall on a Sunday, on the 
 Monday following, the lord mayor and 
 aldermen proceed from Guildhall, and 
 the two sheriffs, with their respective 
 companies, proceed from their particular 
 halls, and embark on the Thames, his 
 lordship in the city barge, and the sherifls 
 in the company's barge, and thus go, in 
 aquatic state, up the river to Palace-yard. 
 They land there, and proceed to the court 
 of exchequer ; where, after salutations to 
 the bench (the cursitor baron presiding), 
 the recorder presents the two sheriffs. 
 The several writs- are then read, and the 
 sheriffs, and the senior under-sheriff, take 
 the usual oaths. 
 
 There are ceremonies on this occasion, 
 ~ in the court of exchcqt;er, which vulgar 
 error supposes to bea trial df the qualifi- 
 . cation of the new sheriffs for their office, 
 whereas the sheriffs have not the least 
 concern with the formal chopping of 
 sticks, and counting of hobnails. 
 
 The tenants of a manor ia Shropshire 
 are directed to come forth to do their 
 suit and service. The corporation of 
 London being tenant of the manor, the 
 senior alderman below the chair steps 
 forward and chops a single stick, in token 
 of its having, been customary for the 
 tenants of that manor to supply their lord 
 with fiiel. 
 
 The owners of a forge in the parish of 
 St. Clement (which formerly belonged to 
 the city, and stood in the high-road from 
 the Temple to Westminster, but now no 
 longer exists) are then called forth to do 
 their suit and service; when an officer of 
 the court, in: the presence of the senior' 
 alderman, produces six horse-shoes and 
 sixty-one hobnails, vrhieb are counted 
 over in form before the cursitor bar^n, 
 who, on this particular occasion, is the, 
 immediate representative of the sovereign. 
 The origin of this latter usage is a grant 
 in 1235, from Henry II f., to Walter de 
 Bruin, a farrier, of the said piece of 
 ground, whereon to erect a, forge, he ren- 
 dering annually to the exchequer, for the 
 same, a quit-rent of six horse-shoes, with 
 the nails belonging to them. In process 
 of time the ground became vested in the 
 city, and, ■ though now lost to it, the city 
 still renders the quit-rent. 
 
 After these ceremonies thacivio author- 
 ities re.^embark in their barges, and return 
 to Blackfriars' bridge, whence they pro- 
 ceed in the state carriages to the company's 
 hall, and partake of an elegant dinner.* 
 
 And so-^as of ancient usage — ends 
 September with the Corporation of Lon- 
 don. 
 
 Edinbubgh. 
 
 September, in the Year Book, may 
 agreeably end with a fact or two, omitted 
 before, relating to the ancient metropolis 
 of Scotland, its old shops and residents, 
 old modes of doing business, and old 
 manners, now extinct or obsolete. 
 
 The small booths in Edinburgh, around 
 St. Giles, part of which were first erected 
 in 1555, continued, till 1817, to deform 
 its outward appearance. Long before 
 their destruction, the booksellers at least 
 had found the " cabinned space" of six or 
 seven feet too small for' the accommoda- 
 tion of their fast increasing wares, and 
 removed to larger Shops, in the square; 
 but, to compensate this change^, a great 
 number of dealers iii toys, gloves, &Ci, 
 had taken up their abode in the hrames — 
 for so were the shops designated upon the 
 north side of the cathedral. There were 
 also shops under, and at the ends of, :the 
 Old Tolbooth. One of thesiat the east 
 end, not more than seven feet long, and 
 three feet wide, was occupied by an old 
 
 • Noble. 
 
 • Gents, Mag. 
 
tl51 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 30. 
 
 1152 
 
 glover named K , who, with his cara 
 
 sposa, stood retailing his wares within its 
 narrow limits, for nearly half a century. 
 They had not a fire, even in winter- 
 there being no room for such a conveni- 
 ence ; and this was a specimen of the life 
 led by all the patient creatures who kept 
 similar shops in the neighbourhood, most 
 of whom, upon the demolition of the 
 hrames, and the general alterations.of the 
 town which then took place, retired from 
 business with competent fortunes. 
 
 One of the largest of these booths, adja- 
 cent to the north side of the New or High 
 Church, and having a second story, was 
 occupied, during a great part of the last 
 iientury, by Messrs. Kerr and Dempster, 
 goldsmiths. The first of these gentlemen 
 had been member of parliament for the 
 city, and was the last citizen who ever 
 held that office. Such was the humility 
 of people's wishes, in those days, respect- 
 ing their houses, that the honorable mem- 
 ber for Edinburgh actually lived, and had 
 a great many children, in the small space 
 of the flat over the shop, and the cellar 
 under it, which was lighted by a grating 
 in the pavement of the square. The sub- 
 terraneous part of his house was chiefly 
 devoted to the purposes of a nursery, and 
 proved so insalubrious, that all his child- 
 ren died successively at a particular age, 
 with the exception of his son Robert, 
 who had the good luck to be bom much 
 more weakly than the rest, and, being 
 sent to the country to be nursed, grew up 
 to be the well-known author of the Life 
 of Robert Bruce, and other works. 
 
 All the goldsmiths of Edinburgh were 
 collected in the Parliament Close, whither, 
 of course, all the country people resorted, 
 during the last century, to purchase the 
 silver tea-spoons which always preceded 
 their nuptials. It was then as customary 
 in the country for the intending bride- 
 groom to take a journey^ a few weeks 
 before his marriage, to the Parliament 
 Close, in order to buy the sUver spunes, 
 as it was for the bride to have her clothes 
 and stock of bed-furniture inspected by 
 a committee of matrons upon the wedding- 
 eve. This important transaction occa- 
 sioned two journeys; — one, in order to 
 select the spoons, and prescribe the initials 
 which were to be marked upon them ; — 
 the other, to receive and pay for them. 
 The goldsmiths of Edinburgh then kept 
 scarcely any goods on hand in their shops, 
 and the smallest article had then to be 
 bespoken from them some time before it 
 
 was wanted. An octogenarian goldsmith, 
 who entered as an apprentice about the 
 beginning of George the Third's reign, 
 says that they were beginning only, at that 
 time, to keep a few trifling articles. Pre- 
 vious io that period, also, another old 
 custom had been abolished. It had been 
 usual, upon both the occasions above 
 mentioned, for the goldsmith to adjourn 
 with his customer to John's CoflTee-house, 
 or to the Baijen Hole (which was then a 
 tavern), and to receive the order, or the 
 payment, in a comfortable manner, over 
 a dram and a caup of small ale ; which 
 were, upon the first occasion, paid for by 
 the customer, and, upon the second, by 
 the trader; and the goldsmith then was, 
 perhaps, let into the whole secret counsels 
 of the rustic, including a history of his 
 courtship — in return for whifih, be would 
 take pains to astonish his customer with a 
 sketch of the city news. As the views 
 and capitals of the Parliament close 
 Goldsmiths. became extended, these plea- 
 sant customs were relentlessly abandoned.* 
 
 .h. m. 
 
 September 30. — Day breaks . . 4 16 
 
 Sun rises . . 6 10 
 
 — sets ... 5 50 
 
 Twilight ends . 7 44 
 
 Asters all in flower. 
 
 P. S. 
 
 A few days agd' an accident threw in 
 my way a small pocket volume, upon a 
 subject which I had little disposition to 
 inquire about. However, I read it, and 
 never was more riveted by a book. I 
 venture to declare my conviction that all 
 persons who have not seen it, whether 
 gentle or simple, old or young, of either 
 sex, will be equally pleased. Upon 
 mention of the title the rich may frown, 
 and fair ladies smile disdainfully, but, 
 if they read the .work, they will confess 
 their mistake. It is " The Working-man's 
 Companion — the Results of Machinery." 
 The price of the voljjmife, although it con- 
 tains 216 pages, neatly printed upon 
 good paper, is only " One Shilling and 
 Threepence bound in cloth." It is not 
 only the cheapest, but the best pocket- 
 book of recreation and instruction I am 
 acquainted with ; and I earnestly recom- 
 mend it to every reader of the Year Book. 
 W. Hone. 
 
 * Cbambeis's Tiaditioos of Edinburgh, ii. 205. 
 
1153 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBK-R 
 
 as* 
 
 OCTOBER. 
 
 The-hedger stopping gaps, amid the leaves, 
 Which time, o'er head, in every color weaves ; 
 The oiilkmaid passing with a timid look. 
 From stone to stone, across the brimming brook ; 
 Tiie cotter journeying, with his rfoisy switie, 
 ^ Along the wood-side where the branches twine, 
 Shakiiig from mossy oaks the acorns brown. 
 Or from the hedges red haws dashing down. 
 
 Clare's ShephercCi Calendar. 
 
 Vol. I.— 37. 
 
ins 
 
 THE YEAR BQOK.-^OCTOBER. 
 
 UM 
 
 Clare's Shepherd's Calendar, whence 
 the lines are takfen on the preceding page, 
 affords a natural picture of the waning 
 year. 
 
 Nature now spreads around, in dreary hue, 
 A pall to cover all that summer knew ; 
 Yet, in the poet's solitary way. 
 Some pleasing objects for hia praise delay ; 
 Something that makes him pause and turn 
 
 again. 
 As every trifle will his eye detain : — 
 The free horse rustling through the stubble 
 
 field; 
 And cows at lair in rushes, half conceaVd ; 
 With groups of restless sheep who feed their 
 
 fin. 
 
 O'er clear'd fields rambling wheresoever they 
 
 will ; 
 The nutters, rustling in the yellow woods. 
 Who tease the wild things in their solitudes ; 
 The hunters from the thicket's avenue. 
 In scarlet jackets ^startling on their view. 
 Skimming a moment o'er the russet plain. 
 Then hiding in the motley woods again ; 
 The plopping gun's sharp, momentary shock. 
 Which Echo bustles from her cave to mock ; 
 The bawling song of solitary boys. 
 Journeying in raptur eo*er their dreaming joys. 
 Hunting the hedges in their reveries. 
 For wilding fruit that shines'ttpon the trees ; 
 The wild wood music from the lonely dell, 
 Where merry Gypseys o'er their raptures 
 
 dwell. 
 Haunting each common's wild and lonely 
 
 nook. 
 Where hedges run as crooked as the brook. 
 Shielding their camp beneath some spreading 
 
 oak. 
 And but discovered by the circling smoke. 
 Puffing, and peeping up, as wills the breeze 
 Between the branches of the colored trees : — 
 Such are the pictures that October yields. 
 To please the poet as he walks the fields ; 
 While Nature — like fair woman in decay. 
 Whom pale consumption hourly wastes away — 
 Upon her waning features, winter chill, 
 Wears dreams of beauty that seem lovely still. 
 Among the heath-furze still delights to dwell. 
 Quaking, as if with cold, the harvest bell ; 
 And mushroom-buttons each moist morning 
 
 brings. 
 Like spots of snow-shine; in dark fairy rings. 
 Wild shines each hedge in autumn's gay pa- 
 rade j 
 And, where the eldern trees to autumn fade. 
 The glossy berry picturesquely cleaves 
 Its swarthy bunches 'mid the yellow leaves. 
 On which- the tootling robin feeds at will. 
 And Gdy hedge-sparrow stains its little bill. 
 The village dames, as they get ripe and fine, 
 Gather the bunches for their " eldern wine ;" 
 Which, bottled up, becomes a rousing charm. 
 To kiudle Winter's icy bosom warm ; 
 
 And, with its merry partner, nut-brow& beer. 
 Makes up the peasant's Christmas-keeping 
 cheer. 
 
 Like to a painted map the landskapo lies ; 
 And wild above shine the cloud-thronged 
 
 skies, 
 That chase each other on with hurried pace. 
 Like living things, as if they ran a race. 
 The winds, that o'er each sudden tempest 
 
 brpod. 
 Waken, like spirits, in a startled mood ; 
 Flirting the sear leaves on the bleaching lea. 
 That litter under every fading tree j , 
 And pausing oft, as falls the patting rain ; 
 Then gathering strength, and twirling them 
 
 again. 
 Till drops the sudden calm : — the hurried 
 
 mill 
 Is stopt at once, and every noise is still ; 
 Save crows, that from, the oak trees quawking 
 
 spring, 
 Dashing the acorns down with beating wing. 
 Waking the wood's shorn sleep in noises low. 
 Patting the crimpt brake's withering brown 
 
 below J 
 And whirr of starling crowds, that dim the 
 
 light 
 With mimic darkness, in their numerous 
 
 flight ; 
 Or shrilly noise of puddocks' feeble wail. 
 As in slow circles round the woods they sail ; 
 While huge black beetles, revelling alone. 
 In the dull evening hum their heavy drone. 
 These trifles linger, through the shortening 
 
 day. 
 To cheer the lone bard's solitary way ; 
 Till surly Winter comes with biting breath, 
 And strips the woods and numbs the scene 
 
 with death ; 
 Then all is still o'er woods and field and plain. 
 As nought had been, and nought would be 
 
 again. 
 
 Most of the winter birds which frequent 
 our islands arrive in October. Numerous 
 sea fowls at stated periods, or at uncer- 
 tain intervals, perform short migrations to 
 and from dif^rent parts of the island. 
 The ring-ousel comes soon after Michael- 
 mas ; the Royston crow arrives in Octo- 
 ber; the redwing about the middle of 
 October ; the fieldfare and woodcock keep 
 arriving all October and November; the 
 snipe and jack arrive during the same 
 period, — some hens breed here; the 
 pigeon, or stockdove, comes towards the 
 ' end of November, and some abide here 
 all the year, with the wood pigeon and 
 ring dove ; some of which arrive in spring, 
 and others perform partial migrations. 
 Among occasional visitors, which fre- 
 quently change their summer a.nd winter 
 
usr 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER. 
 
 1158 
 
 quartew, we have the wila swan, wild 
 goose, wild duck, pochard, and teal. 
 The grosbeak, crossbill, and silk tail, or 
 waxen chatterer, appear at uncertain in- 
 tervals. 
 
 When great abundance of winter 
 migratory birds, particularly fieldfares, 
 arrive early, they usually forbode a hard 
 winter. The same prognostic of a severe 
 season is to be inferred from the early or 
 numerous migration of wild geese, wild 
 ducks, and other winter fowls, or the 
 appearance of sea grills in the inland 
 marshes. 
 
 The harsh screaming of aquatic fowls, 
 as they pass over us, may often be heard 
 at night, when thej themselves are unseen. 
 Cranes, storks, geese, and ducks, all fly 
 by night as well as by day ; and the stork 
 is the only one of them who is not cla- 
 morous : he takes to wing in' silence, and 
 pierces the aerial regions unlieard. Cranes, 
 on the contrary, are the ttros^ Sonorous. 
 Dr. Forster saw a flight of them in No- 
 vember, 1799, at Haekneyrin Middlesex; 
 they flew at an immense height. The 
 flight of cranes has been always nbtable ; 
 and Homer, in a beautiful passage, com- 
 pares it to the march of the Trojan pha- 
 lanx. In summer they spread themselves 
 over the nortb of Europe and Asia, as for 
 as tbe arctic circle, and in winter they 
 are met with in tbe warmer regions of 
 India, Syria, Egypt, &c., and at the Cap.e 
 of Good Hope. The course of their 
 flight is discovered by the loud noise they 
 make; for they soar to such a height as to 
 be hardly visible to the na:ked eye. Jere- 
 miah, vii. 7, notices the annual migration of 
 cranes and storks, as also that of the 
 swallow. The story is well known of a 
 brass plate fixed on a swallowy with this 
 inacriptioB, " Prithee, swallpw, whither 
 goest thou in winter ?" The bird return' 
 ed with the answer subjoined, " To An- 
 thony of Athens, why doest thoii inquire?" 
 The elevated and marshalled flight of 
 wild geese, l&e that of cranes, seems 
 dictated by^ometricai instinct. Shaped 
 lite a wedjge, they cut the air with less 
 individual exertion ; and il isjepnjectured 
 that the change of its forri from an in- 
 verted V, an A, and t, or a straight line, 
 is occasioned by the leader of the van's 
 quitting his post at the point of the angle 
 through fatigue, dropping into the rear, 
 and leaving his place to be occupied by 
 another.* 
 
 * Sr. i'oister's I'erennial Calendar, 
 
 Alimentary Calendar. 
 
 The temperature of this month is pecu- 
 liarly favorable to the brewing of malt 
 liquor, being neither too hot nor too cold. 
 For ales, however, which require long 
 keeping, the month of March is by some 
 deemed the preferable season. 
 
 In October,' chickens, pullets, capons, 
 and turkeys, are in high order for the spit. 
 Beef and mutton improve in quality ; 
 while hares, pheasants, wild ducks, wid- 
 geons, teal, plovers, woodcocks, snipes, 
 and larks, are added to the former list of 
 viands, and continue in season for the 
 remainder of the year. Cod, which has 
 been absent from table since April, now 
 reappears for the winter season : herrings 
 also, having spawned, are by some con- 
 noisseurs more esteeiiied than in the spring 
 of the year. OystWs, particularly the 
 native Milton and Colchester, are full 
 fed, and in high flavor. Potatoes have 
 attained to proper growth and mealiness, 
 and carrots are in perfection. The des- 
 sert chiefly consists of peaches, grapes, 
 apples, pears, and plums. 
 
 Kitchen Garden DtiUEcronv. 
 Sow 
 Small salading ; lettuces ; radish, &c. ; 
 n the first week. 
 
 Mazagan beanj ; peas, the early frame ; 
 at the end of the month. 
 
 Plant 
 Slips of many kinds 6f the sweet herbs ; 
 early in the month. 
 
 Trin^limt 
 
 Endive and lettuce ; into warm borders. 
 
 Early York cabbage ; dbdut the middle 
 or latter end. 
 
 A few fine roots of beet, cafrot, and 
 parsnep, to rise from se^d. 
 
 Dig up 
 
 Carrdts, parsneps, beet, Hamburgh 
 p II- ley ; a few ro. ts fOr early Supply, or 
 to preserve in said. Pofartoe?, thevfinter 
 stock, for pftting, Or storing in dry cellars 
 or sheds. 
 
 Earth up 
 
 Celery in the trenches, and lendiivej 
 
 Clear from weeds tbe beds of winter 
 spinach, lettuce, broccoli, cabbages, fee. ; 
 and dig lightly, a(nd draw earth to the 
 stems of all the brassica tribe. 
 
 Hoe, rake, destroy weeds, and remove 
 litter of every kind. 
 
 2 P 2 
 
il.99 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— OCTOBER 1, 2. 
 
 llflO 
 
 Prepare arching with hoops, &c., over 
 those beds or patches of tender crops 
 which are to be covered with mats or 
 tarpauling for protection during frosty 
 atid severe weather. 
 
 &ttottv 1. 
 
 Decoy Day, 
 
 The first day of October is appointea 
 by act of parliament for commencing to 
 decoy wild-fowl in Lincolnshire, whence 
 the London markets are chiefly supplied 
 with wild ducks, teals, and widgeons : in 
 a single season 31,200 of these birds have 
 been sent to the metropolis from Wain- 
 fleet.* 
 
 Song. 
 
 Autumn gale ! sweet autumn gale 1 
 Sing wit^ me a sober wail ; 
 Summer loves the melting song ; 
 Lightsome airs to spring belong ; 
 Old December shouts with glee. 
 O'er wassail cup and revelry : 
 Them I note not ; thee I call 
 To my sober festival. 
 
 Haste with sighs to woo the rose. 
 Blooming not till summer's close \ 
 Seek her bower, but O beware 
 Not to romp or frolic there ! 
 Lest she lose ber silken dress. 
 And her blushing loveliness — 
 Suck her ftagrant breath, and bring 
 Odours on thy flutCring wing. ■ 
 
 Hither, hither, autumn gale ! 
 Turn tby flight, and lightly sail. 
 I see yon sweet bird's quiv'ring throat. 
 But scarcely hear his liquid note : 
 Turn thy flight, and to mine ear 
 Bring the music loud and clear. 
 Nearer — haste thee ! — nearer still — 
 Now, go wander wliere you will. 
 
 Idle breeze ! — that plaintive sigh 
 Tells me thou art lingering nigh. 
 Where the fruit hangs golden novr. 
 Roughly blow, and bend the bough ; 
 Or^ to please my wayward will. 
 Shake the branch— 'tis easier still— 
 And drop the fruit, that's ripe and sweet. 
 On the green grass at my feet. 
 
 Autumn gale I — away, away ! 
 We will seek yon ruin gray} 
 Where old Time hath hung his pall 
 O'er roofless aisle and ivied wall* 
 Ceasing now the wail you love 
 O'er fading flower and leafless grove. 
 
 Butler's Chronological Exercises. 
 
 Lift that dusky pall, and shov 
 The dim forgotten tales below. 
 Fancy lingers thereabout. 
 To help your pleasant story out. 
 
 Night is coming ; flit away. 
 Till the dawn of cheerful day ; 
 Braid your loose hair round your brow 
 With scarlet poppies, drooping low. 
 That the dewy flowers may weep 
 Over your eyelids as you sleep ; 
 Fold your wing, and hang your head. 
 And sink into your leafy bed. 
 
 What I returning ! restless breeze ! 
 Not so near, sir, if you please. 
 Hence ! away ! thou specious foe ! 
 All too like some friends I know ; 
 Boon companions, warm and gay, 
 While the golden sunbeams stay ; 
 Rude, and bitter cold, like thee. 
 In darkness and adversity. 
 
 So ends an " Evening Song," in the library 
 £Lt " Old Court," which Grace sings with- 
 out music to one of Purcell's airs." 
 These, and more of such verses, are in 
 "A Fireside Book," a little volume of 
 delightful tales and melodies, suited to a 
 mind that would " study to be quiet." 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October t. — Day breaks 
 
 . 4 t8 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 6 12 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 5 48 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . r 42 
 
 Here-hunting begins. 
 
 
 &ctoi)ev 2. 
 
 
 2nd October 1394 king Richard II. 
 after a truce with France landed with a 
 large force at Waterford in Ireland, and 
 succeeded in reducing to obedience the 
 natives, who in the absence of the English 
 barons and knights from their estates had 
 intercepted and refused the revenues. His 
 object was principally achieved by hos- 
 pitality, and by extensive largesses, to the 
 chiefs of the different kingdoms inio 
 which the country was divided. Richard's 
 pleasure on accomplishing the object of 
 this expedition was marred by the death 
 of his favorite, Robert de Vere, who was 
 killed in Brabant by the tusk of a vfild 
 boar. The minion's body was brought 
 to England and viewed by the king, who 
 consoled himself by alloting to the 
 remains a splendid funeral, at which, 
 like Edward II. at the obsequies of Piers 
 Gaveston, he attended almost alone. The 
 king had previously lost his amiable wife, 
 
1161 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 3 
 
 list 
 
 whom the peopli' tlyled "good tjueen 
 Anne." This lady commenced the custom 
 of riding on side saddles. Before her 
 time, women rode on horseback astride, 
 like men. 
 
 Froissart in his chronicle gives very 
 interesting particulars of Richard's expe- 
 dition in Ireland. Although a native of 
 Flanders and an ecclesiastic, a large portion 
 of Froissart's life was spent in the courts of 
 this king and Edward III. Nothing can 
 exceed the amusing manner in which he 
 tells his tales. In the most wild fantastic 
 narrations he rivets the reader's attention. 
 His history, though strictly true, has the 
 air of a romance from the numberless 
 exploits of chivalry which he celebrates. 
 He looks on a knight as little less than 
 an angel, and pays St. James the compli- 
 ment of calling him " Le saint Baron 
 St. Jacques." In one part of his works 
 lie exults in having lived with the great 
 and elegant, and partaken of their 
 dainties, and especially of the " spiced 
 wines," which were the last and most 
 valued regale with our ancestors, before 
 they went to rest. He was a poet as 
 well as an historian. In 1397 he pre- 
 sented to Richard II., as he was sailing 
 on the Thames, a book, finely illuminated, 
 bound in crimson velvet with silver bosses 
 and clasps and gold in roses. " What is 
 the subject ?" said the king ; " D' Amour," 
 answered Froissart : Richard smiled upon 
 him, and ordered that he should be wdl 
 entertained. After a careful collection 
 of different MSS. Mr. Jehnes rendered 
 a translation into English of Froissart's 
 chronicle, which he printed at the Hafod 
 press, in quarto, with variations and ad- 
 ditions, and fac simile engravings from 
 curious and beautiful original illumi- 
 nations of the time. There is an ad- 
 mirable translation by John Bouchier, 
 knight, lord Bemers, in the reign of 
 Henry VIII. printed by R; Pynson 
 1535, recently reprinted, and edited by 
 Edward V. Utterson, Esq. 
 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October 2.- 
 
 —Day breaks . . . 
 
 4 20 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 6 14 
 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 5 46 
 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 7 40 
 
 Long-leaved starwort flowers. 
 
 
 Summer 
 
 Bergamot pears ripe. 
 
 
 to hover and alight cons&intly near the Tra- 
 &*.gar, a new ship of 100 guns building 
 in the dock-yard at Chatham, to comme- 
 morate Lord NeUon's victory. Curiosity 
 was excited by this frenuency of the bird's 
 visits — when it was discovered that she 
 had formed a nest in the ship, and had 
 nearly completed her labours. The mo- 
 tions of the bird were purposely observed, 
 and on the morning of the 21st of Oc- 
 tober 1818, the anniversary o( the victory, 
 she laid her first egg and subsequently 
 five others. 
 
 (Bctoitev 3. 
 
 Early in October, 1818, a robin during 
 the mild weather of that season was seen 
 
 The Orphan Boy's Tale, 
 
 Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake. 
 
 And hear a helpless orphan's tiile. 
 Ah ! sure my looks must pity wake, 
 
 'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale. 
 Yet I was once a mother's pride. 
 
 And my brave father's hope and joy - 
 Kut in the Nile's proud fight he died. 
 
 And I am now an orphan boy. 
 Poor foolish child ! how pleased was I, 
 
 When news of Nelson's victory came. 
 Along the crowded streets to fly, 
 ' And see the lighted windows flame I 
 
 To force me home my mother sought. 
 She could not bear to see my joy ; 
 
 For with my father's life 'twas bought. 
 And made me a poor orphan boy. 
 
 The people's shouts were long and load. 
 My mother, shuddering, clos'd her ears ; 
 
 " Rejoice I rejoice !" still cried the crowd ; 
 My mother answered with her tears. 
 
 " Why are you crying thus," said I, 
 
 " While others laugh and shout for joy !" 
 
 She kiss'd me — ^and with such a sigh ! 
 She called me her poor orphan boy. 
 
 " What is an orphan boy 1" I cried. 
 As in her face 1 look'd and smil'd ; 
 
 My mother through her tears replied, 
 •' You'll know too soon, ill-fated child !" 
 
 And now they've toll'd my mother's knell. 
 And I'm no more aparent's joy : 
 
 O lady, — ^I have leamt too well 
 What 'tis to be an orphan boy. 
 
 Oh ! were I by your bounty fed ! 
 
 Nay, gentle lady, do not chide,— > 
 Trust me, I mean to earn my bre«d ;. 
 
 The sailor's orphan boy has pride. 
 
 Lady, you weep 1 — ^ha 1 — ^this to me 1 
 You'll give me clothing, food, employ 
 
 Look down, dear parents ! look and see 
 Your happy, happy orphan bay ! 
 
 Mr4. Opif. 
 
1163 
 
 THE YEAR fiOOK.— OCTOBER 4, 5, 6. 
 
 1164 
 
 h,. m. 
 
 Octohtr 3.— Pay breaks . . 4 22 
 
 Siin ris?s . . . 6 16 
 
 — sets ... 6 44 
 
 Twilight ends . 7 38 
 
 The second, or autuinnalj flowpring gf 
 
 hawkweed. 
 
 ^ttOfitt 4. 
 
 1744, October 4, Harry Qpr^y d«. 
 stroyed himself at his house, in Great 
 Warner-street, Coldbath-fields. He was 
 a popular wit, a dramatic writer, and a mu- 
 sical composer. He studied music under 
 Olaus Westeinsoi) Liunert, a Oerman, 
 and received some instruction from Rose- 
 ingrave, and was finally a disciple of 
 Geminiani. He published a small col- 
 lection of poems in duodecimo, 1713. 
 In the '* ProToked Husband" are some of 
 his songs, and his farce of the " Contri- 
 vances" contains several pretty airs of 
 his own composition. In 1734, to bur- 
 lesque the bombast common to the trage- 
 dies of the day, he wrote " Chrononho- 
 tonthologos." Mr. Noble derives one of 
 the characters in this piece "Aldiboron- 
 tifoscophornio," from " Aldeborohi-fusco- 
 phoni," a great giant, meiitioned in 
 Sprigg's "Philosophical Essayes, with 
 brief adviso's," printed at London, in a 
 very small size, 1657, from a tiint in 
 Ralph's "Touchstone." He wrote the 
 " Dragon of Wantley," and, as a com- 
 panion, the " Drsigoness," both set to 
 music by Larape. These were intended 
 to ridicule the prevailing taste for the 
 Italian opera. His " Musical Century, or 
 a hundred English ballads/' were, he said, 
 " adapted to several characters and in ■ 
 cidents in human life, and calculated for 
 innocent conversation, mirth, and in- 
 struction ;" and, in 1743, he published by 
 subscription his dramatic works, in a 
 small quairto volume. Mr. Noble says, 
 " This man of Song and whim is an in- 
 stance, among many others thai I have 
 remarked, of those who seem to live 
 without care, and pretend to be occu- 
 pied only with exciting pleasantry, having, 
 when alone, the most severe afflictions. 
 Life must have its serious moments ; and 
 the important duties must be performed, 
 or distress will unavoidably approach. 
 ThatCarey was highly admired by tlie pub- 
 lic atlargCjthe subseriptions to. his works 
 evidently prove. He had wit, and wit 
 that was felt; but nothing causes so much 
 
 hatred as ridicule. Those who were ex- 
 pos^ to laughter by his means detested 
 him; and some who were capably re 
 torted ; and he who most provokes fsm 
 least bear the retort. Envy, ridicule, 
 pecuniary embarrassments, but, above all, 
 an injury to his doraestie felieity, the 
 worst to be borne of any, oceasioned 4 
 despondency that prompted hira to ter- 
 njjnate his' life, prematui«ly, by his own 
 hand. Let wit be chastened, and gaiety 
 moderated, or they will generally lead to 
 misery, disgrace, and ruia," 
 
 October 4. — Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 — sets • . . 
 "wilightends 
 
 h. m 
 . 4 25 
 . 6 18 
 . 5 42 
 . 7 35 
 
 ®tiobtv 5. 
 
 Seven Dials* 
 
 
 ■ 5th October, 1694, Evelyn says, in bis 
 diary, " I went to see the building be- 
 ginning near St. Giles, where seven streets 
 make a star from a Doric pillar placed in 
 the middle of a circular area, said to be 
 built by Mr. Neale, introducer of the late 
 lotteries in imitation of those at Venice, 
 now set up here for himself twice, and 
 now one for the state." It appears that 
 this Mr. Neale was a speculator. He 
 took a large piece of ground on the north 
 side of Piccadilly, of Sir Walter Clarges. 
 He was to lay out 15,000i. upon it in 
 building, but did not, and Sir Walter got 
 lease back and built Clarges street. 
 
 October 
 
 
 
 ji. 
 
 ID, 
 
 r 5. 
 
 Day breaks . 
 
 . 4 
 
 27 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 6 
 
 2v1 
 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 5 
 
 40 
 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 7 
 
 33 
 
 
 Octotier 6, 
 
 
 An Autumnal Even 
 
 INC. 
 
 
 It is as combining the cecline of the 
 dai/ with that o( Xhei j/e,ar, the period bplh 
 of beauty and decay, that an Evening in 
 Autumn becomes so generally the parent 
 of ideas of a solemn, and pathetic cast. 
 Not only, as in the first of these instances, 
 do we blend the sun-set of physical with 
 (hat of moral'being, but a fuither source 
 
I«SS 
 
 *TttE YKAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 0. 
 
 11«9 
 
 of similitude is unavoidably suggested in 
 the failure and decrepitude of the dying 
 year, a picture faithfully, and, in some 
 points of view, mournfully emblematic of 
 the closing hours of human life. 
 
 With the daily retirement of the sun, 
 and the gradual approach of twilight, 
 though circumstances, as we have seen, 
 often associated in our minds with the 
 transitory tenure of mortal existence, 
 there are usually connected so many 
 objects of beauty and repose as to render 
 such a scene in a high degree soothing 
 and consolatory ; but with the customary 
 decline of light are now united tbe sigh- 
 ing of the coming storm, the edying of 
 the withered foliage ; 
 
 for now the leaf 
 Incessant rustles from the mournful grove ; 
 Oft startling such as, studious, -walk helow, 
 And slowly circles dirough the waving aiT. 
 But, should a quicker breeze amid the houghs 
 Sob, o'er the sky the leafy deluge streams j 
 Till cheak'd, and matted with the dreary 
 
 shower^ 
 The forest-walks, at every rising gale. 
 Roll wide the withei'd waste, apd whistle 
 
 bleak. 
 
 These ar« occurrences which so strongly 
 appeal to our fieelings, which so forcibly 
 remind us of the mutability of our spe- 
 cies, and bring before us, with such 
 impressive solemnity, tlie earth as opening 
 to receive us, (hat they have, from the 
 earliest period of society, and in every 
 stage of it, been considered as typical oi 
 the brevity and destiny of man. Like 
 leaves on trees, — says the first and the 
 greatest of all uninspired writers,. — 
 
 Xike leaves on trees the race of man is found. 
 Now green in youth, now withering on the 
 
 ground ; 
 Another race the followiiig spring supplies ; 
 They fall successive, and ^ucces^ve rise i 
 So generations in their course decay ; 
 So flourish these, when those axe pass'd 
 
 away ;* 
 
 a si-mile which, as originating in the sym- 
 pathies of our common nature, has found 
 an echo in the poetry of the melancholy 
 Ossian . " The people are," exclaims the 
 Bard of Coria, " like the waves of ocean ; 
 like the leaves of woody Morven, they 
 pass away in the rustling blast, and other 
 leaves lift their green heads on high."'f- 
 
 * Homer apud Pope, book 6. 
 t Macpherson's Ossiaa, Berratfaon, vol. t. 
 
 The preceding are a portion Of many 
 delightful thoughts and reflections in D-. 
 Drake's " Evenings in Autumn " 
 
 NATtfitE's Music. 
 
 The mountain torrent, and the rill 
 
 That bubbles o'er its pebbly bed. 
 Make music which can soothe and still 
 
 The aching heart and weary head ^ 
 For nature's simple minstrelsy 
 Proffers a thousand charms for me. 
 The ruthless gale that Anturan brings. 
 
 The lispings of the summer breeze. 
 And winter's wildest murmurings. 
 
 Have each a sovereign power to please. 
 And nxinister untold delight 
 To fancy in her vagrant flight. 
 When midnight tempests loudly ring. 
 
 And from their crazy thrones on high. 
 Around the moon's faint glimmering. 
 
 The stars are watching tremblingly, — 
 A calm amidst the storm Z find. 
 And quiet in the wailing wind. 
 
 Bible l^fria. 
 
 Febiwics 
 
 [For the Year Book,] 
 
 The strong feeling against the use of 
 false hair which the lines express at p. 92 
 is still common amongst country people, 
 and was once almost universal ; even the 
 "profane" partook of the antipathy, as 
 well' as the precisians, for Heywood, in 
 one place, where Sardanapalus enumerate! 
 his enormities, makes him say : — 
 
 " Curl'd periwigs upen my head I wore ; 
 And, being man, the shape of woman hore.' 
 
 And amongst the Annotations on his 
 << Pleasant Dialogues and Dramas, 1637," 
 describing the disgusting excesses to 
 which the lapygse abandoned themselves, 
 he remarks " they grew to sueh profuse 
 riot, intemperance, and wantonness," 
 that, " forgetting their country modesty: 
 and honesty, they painted their faces and 
 wore other folkes' haire." 
 
 J.: 
 
 Staffordthire Moorlands 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October 6.— Day breaks . 
 
 . 4 29 
 
 Sun rises , . 
 
 . 6 as 
 
 — sets . ^ 
 
 . 5 38 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 7 31 
 
 Martins emigrate :-a few remain tiU the 
 middle of the month. 
 
«67 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 6, 
 
 lies 
 
 KINGSTHORPE, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 There is not a ■prettier village near 
 Northaiopton, at least within the same 
 distance from the town, than Kingsthorpe. 
 Half an hour's leisurely stroll will con- 
 duct you thither, by a rural route. Fol- 
 low the line of Sheep-street, northward 
 along the London road, till you reach a 
 gate just beyond a row of unfinished 
 housfes facing the race ground ; push open 
 the gale, and continue along the path till 
 -you reach a lane crossing your right and 
 left; turn to the right ? and stroll along 
 the delightfully pleasant and: picturesque 
 lane, and you will again find yourself in 
 the high London road^ and, after proceed- 
 ing a few yards along the road, step over 
 a low stile on the left into a path running 
 parallel with the road, but separated from 
 It by a row of fine elms. On. the left is 
 a prospect almost as lovely as an inland 
 i%»>a not mountainous country can pos- 
 
 sibly present. Crossing a stile or two 
 (which, by the way, are annoyingly nume- 
 rous heieabouts), you will enter the Park 
 and catch a pretty view of a stone mansion, 
 recently occupied by Mr. Dwarris, em- 
 bowered in some of the finest forest trees 
 I have seen. By a stile at the end of 
 this path, you are once more in the high 
 road, but at a very picturesque portion of 
 it. On the east side is a cluster of pri- 
 mitive-looking cottages, built of stone and 
 thatched. Upon an attentive inspection 
 they appear to have been fqrmed from 
 the remains of some ancient ruin, pro- 
 bably of an hospital which was founded 
 here about the year 1200. Except for 
 one object, a very charming picture might 
 be painted from this spot : that object is 
 a toll-gate, modern and very ill assorted 
 with its antique and lowly neighbours. 
 It has an impertinent perkish look, which 
 disconcerts the eye. Pass it, and, taking 
 
1169. 
 
 HHi YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBRU 7, S 
 
 1170 
 
 the first turning on the left, pursue a lane 
 formed on one side by the low stone wall 
 and noble trees of the park you just tra- 
 versed, and on the other by closes and the 
 stabling belonging to an antique-looking 
 farm-house. This lane will bring yon to 
 the spot in my pencil sketch to which 1 
 wish I could have done more justice. 
 This is Kingsthorpe. 
 
 In Dooms-day Book Kingsthorpe is, 
 named simply Torp, and is bounded on 
 the east by Moulton, on the north by 
 Bou»hton (remarkable for its Fair), on the 
 west by the river Nyne, or Nen, and on 
 the south by Northampton. " The church," 
 says Bridges in his History of Northamp- 
 tonshire, is "dedicated to St. John the 
 Baptist, and consists of a body, north and 
 south aisle, and chancel, leaded ; with a 
 channti'ng chapel at the east end of each 
 aisle. At the west end is a spire raised 
 on an embattled tower, in which are five, 
 bells. Within the church-yard, near the 
 south door of the church, are still remain- 
 ing (he steps and stump of a cross. The 
 register begins in 1 540. " I have sought 
 for this relic in vain. It has yielded to. 
 the great destroyer "Time, "or perhaps 
 to the yet more destructive jiidgnieht of 
 some Dogberry of a churchwarden. 
 
 Kingsthorpe is remarkable too for its 
 beautiful springs. One of them supplies 
 the rivulet represented in my sketch, and is 
 called I believe King's Well. This place 
 was anciently a royal manor. The old rent 
 was £60 per ann. : which was reduced for 
 a term of 40 years to an annual rent of 
 £l by Henry VI., on the complaint that 
 the freeholders had fallen to decay and 
 the town become impoverished. It seems 
 to have subsequently revived; for Edward 
 IV. granted an annuity of £40, "out of the 
 farm at Kingsthorpe," to his queen Eliza- 
 beth. 
 
 The "May-games " were anciently cele- 
 brated at Kingsthorpe with much pomp 
 and circumstance, and an order was wont 
 to be made by the bailiif in the court for 
 appointing "a lord and lady on Easter-day 
 after even-song, under, the penalty of 
 paying 6s. 8d. in case the office was 
 refused." But for upwards of a century 
 and a half there are no records of any 
 observance of this kind. A tradition 
 however assigns a better reason for the 
 disnse than can usually be given for simi- 
 lar omissions — namely, that of a man 
 having been killed at the last wake ob- 
 served at this place. 
 
 G. .T. 
 
 7lh October, 1 792, died at his domain 
 pf Gunston-hall, in Fairfax county, 
 Virginia, in the sixty-seventh year of his 
 age, Col. George Mason. The following ex- 
 tract from his will is worthy of lasting 
 remembrance : — " I recommend it to ray 
 sons, from my experience in life, to 
 prefer the happiness and independence of 
 a private station to the troubles and vex- 
 ations of public business ; but, if either 
 their own inclinations or the necessity of 
 the times should- engage them in public 
 affairs, I charge them, on a father's 
 blessing, never to let the motive of private 
 interest, or ambition, induce them to 
 betray, nor the terrors of poverty and dis- 
 grace, or Jhe fear of danger or death, 
 deter them from asserting the liberty of 
 their country, and endeavouring to trans- 
 mit to their posterity those sacr:ed rights 
 to which themselves were born."* 
 
 Good lAfe, hong TAfe. 
 
 It is not growing like a tree 
 
 In buike, doth make man better be ; 
 
 Or standing long au oake, three hundred 
 
 ycare. 
 To fall a logge, at last, rfry, bald, and scare : 
 A lillie of a day. 
 Is fairer farre, in May, 
 Although it fall, and die thtt night ; 
 It was the plant and flowre of light. 
 In small proportions we just beauties see 
 And in short measures life may perfect be. 
 
 Ben Johjuon. 
 
 h. m, 
 
 October 7. Daybreaks . . 4 31 
 
 Sun rises . . . 6 24 
 
 — sets . . . . 5 36 
 
 Twilight ends . . 7 29 
 
 Damsons and bolusses gathered 
 
 (Bttobtv 8. 
 
 1795, October 8, died at his house in 
 Crown street Westminster, in his seventy- 
 second year, the learned Andrew Kippis, 
 D. D., F. R. S., and A. S. He was born 
 at Nottingham, March 28 (O. S.) 1725. 
 His father, Robert Kippis, a respectable 
 silk hosier of that town, dying in 1730, 
 
 • Gpntlcman's Magazine, 
 
tin 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 8. 
 
 lira 
 
 he went to reside with his grandfather, 
 at Sleaford ; and received his classi- 
 cal education at the grammar-school in 
 that town. In 1741 he removed to 
 Northampton, and commenced his aca- 
 demical studies under Dr. Doddridge. 
 After a residence of five years at the aca- 
 demy, he settled as a dissenting minister 
 at Boston, in Lincolnshire, in 1746, and in 
 November 1750 accepted the charge of 
 a- congregation at Dorking, Surry. In 
 June 1753, the congregation in Princes- 
 street Westminster chose him their min- 
 ister, and in September following he 
 married, and fixed his residence in West- 
 minster. In June 1767 he received the 
 degree of D. D. from the Xlniversity of 
 Edinburgh, on the unsolicited recom- 
 mendation of Professor Robertson. He 
 was elected F. A. S. March 19, 1778, and 
 F. R. S. June 17, 1779 ; and was, of the 
 council in both societies. Dr. Kippis 
 was eminently distinguished for the virtues 
 and accomplishments which form the 
 chief ornaments of private life. He united 
 that knowledge of men and books which 
 rendered his conversation uncommonly 
 entertaining ; and as a minister he was 
 eminent for his profound acquaintance 
 with every branch of theology. His 
 sermons were remarkable for perspicuity, 
 elegance, and energy; and his elocution 
 was unaffected and very impressive. The 
 superior powers and vigour of his mind 
 lie had cultivated with diligence and 
 success. He labored incessantly with his 
 pen. His improved edition of " Dr. 
 Doddridge's Lectures" is a work of 
 great value; and the "History of Know- 
 ledge, Learning, and Taste, in Great 
 Britain," prefixed to the New Annual 
 Register, was received with deserved ap- 
 probation. But the work which engaged 
 his principal attention, and by which he 
 is chiefly distinguished, is the last edition 
 of the " Biographia Britannica." In 
 this great national publication, which un- 
 happily remains incomplete, are deve- 
 loped the comprehensiveness and powers 
 of his mind, the correctness of his judg- 
 ment, the vast extent of his information, 
 his indefatigable researches and unre- 
 mitting assiduity, his peculiar talent of 
 appreciating the merits and analysing 
 the labors of the most eminent writers, 
 and his unshaken integrity, unbiassed 
 fidelity, and impartial decision on the 
 characters of the philosopher, statesman, 
 poet, scholar, and divine. His style is 
 remarkable for its perspicuity, elegance. 
 
 and purity ; and gives a peculiar lustre 
 to the rich stores of knowledge he im- 
 parted. * 
 
 DOKSETSHIRE CuSTOMS, &C. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Harvest Home — Hay making— Matri- 
 monial Oracles — Midsummer hve — Peace 
 in 1 8 1 4 — Country Fairs — Perambulations. 
 
 Harvest Home, formerly celebrated with 
 great mirth, but now a declining usage, 
 was a feast given by the farmer at ihe 
 end of harvest, or when his hay and corn 
 were got in. " Ofortunatos nimiam, sua 
 sihona n&rint, agricolas,'' says Virgil ; 
 how happy, if they knew their bliss, are 
 farmers ! yet this, like all other happiness, 
 has its alloy. The farmer's seed is scat- 
 tered upon the surface of his field, where 
 it receives the attentions of a nurse, and 
 yet sometimes perishes with his hopes ; 
 he has anxieties for the firstlings of his 
 flock, exposed to the storms of March, 
 and many die from inclemency ; bad 
 weather, unhealthy and thin crops, fluc- 
 tuations of market, loss of cattle, inroads 
 of thieves, and unfaithfulness of servants, 
 often disturb the farmer's peace ; and, if 
 he have not a just confidence in the wis- 
 dom and goodness of God, he is an 
 unhappy and ill-tempered man. Some 
 years ago the " Harvest-home" in my 
 native county, Dorset, was kept up with 
 good old English hospitality. When the 
 last load was ricked, the laborers, male 
 and female, the swarthy reaper, and the 
 sun-burnt hay-maker, the saucy boy who 
 had not seen twelve summers, and the 
 stiff horny-handed old mower who had 
 borne the toil of fifty, all made a happy 
 groupe, and went with singing and loud- 
 laughing to the " harvtst-home supper'' 
 at the farm-house, where they were ex- 
 pected by the good mistress, dressed in a 
 quilted petticoat and a linsey-wolsey 
 apron, with shoes fastened by large silver 
 buckles which extended over her foot 
 like a pack-saddle on a donkey. The 
 dame and her husband welcomed them to 
 a supper of good wholesome food, — a 
 round of beef, and a piece of bacon, and 
 perhaps the host and hostess had gone so 
 far as to kill a fowl or two, or stick a 
 turkey, which had fattened in the wheat- 
 yard. This plain English fare was eaten 
 from wooden trenchers, by the fide of 
 
 * Gents. Magazine. 
 
1173 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 8, 
 
 1174 
 
 which were put little cups of horn fiUea 
 with beer or cider. When the cloth wab 
 removed, one of the men, putting forth 
 his large hand like the gauntlet of an 
 armed knight, would grasp his horn of 
 beer, and standing on a pair of l^s which 
 had. long out-grown the largest holes of 
 the village stocks, and with a voice 
 which, if he had not been speaking a 
 dialect of the English language, you 
 might have thought came from the deep- 
 seated lungs of a lion, he would propose 
 the liealth of the farmer in the following 
 lines : — 
 
 Here's a health unto ou¥ miaster 
 
 The foundeT of the feast. 
 And 1 hope to God wi* all my heart 
 
 His soul m heaven mid rest ; 
 
 That every thing mid prosper 
 That ever he tiak in hand> 
 
 Vor we be all his sarvants^ 
 And all at his command. 
 
 After this would follow a course of jokes, 
 anecdotes, and songs, in some of which 
 the whole company joined, without at- 
 tention to the technicalities of counter- 
 point, bass, tenor, and treble, common 
 ciiords and major thirds ; but each 
 singing the air and pitching in at the 
 key, that best fitted his voice, making a 
 medley of big and little sounds, like the 
 loivings of oxen and the low bleatings of 
 old ewes, mixed up with the shrill pipings 
 of the lambs at a fair. The conversation 
 commonly turned on the incidents of the 
 summer: how the hay-makers overtook 
 the mowers, or how the rain kept the labor 
 back ; how they all crept in a heap under 
 the waggon in a thunderstorm ; how 
 nearly some of them were crushed under 
 the load that was upset; who was the 
 best mower or reaper in the village ; 
 which field yielded the best crop; and 
 which stack was most likely to heat. 
 
 Hay-making is one of the most pleas- 
 ing occupations of an English summer. 
 The bright green of the smooth mown 
 fields, bordered by " hedge-row elms," the 
 sweet smell of the new hay, the bustle 
 and merry songs of the busy hay-makers, 
 and the waving uncut crops, are to the 
 peaceful mind of a thinking observer 
 really charming. In the hay-field the 
 master distributes his men with the same 
 attention to their abilities as the manager 
 of a theatre casts the characters of a play 
 among his performers. The younger and 
 less experienced are set to rake the hay 
 up unto ridges, called in Dorset " wales," 
 
 or to put It up into cocks ; some of that 
 numerous class of laborers who have 
 more strength than wit are sent to pitch 
 or unload ; the next " grade," as brother 
 iFonathan says, is that of the loader, who 
 must be a man of some little talent, to 
 build the load upright, and make it firm 
 by properly putting in the binding masses 
 at the corners; but the highest rank is 
 that of the rick or stack-maker, who, 
 besides having a proper knowledge of the 
 mathematical lines under which hay.. 
 stacks are comfhonly comprehended, must 
 be a man of activity and strength. The 
 ground-shape of the rick is either a circle 
 or a parallelogram, which is to be cor- 
 rectly kept; the rick must be upright, 
 rounded out in the middle, and then go 
 off into a cone or pyramid ; and the rick- 
 maker must so fix its size that it may take 
 all the hay intended to be put into it, 
 without spoiling its shape and without 
 waste or want ! or, in the expression of 
 the bay-makers, " with none to leave and 
 none to lack." 
 
 Matrimonial Oracles, and Midsummer 
 Eve. — When we thinkon the consequences 
 of a woman's marriage — that she may be 
 dragged into a long train of evils, and 
 her heart be broken by a profligate or 
 indolent partner — or be led smiling in 
 well-being through life, by a man of virtue 
 and good sense : — when we see a happy 
 girl, and imagine what may be her fate — 
 subjected to the unkind treatment and 
 coarse language of a boor, or have her 
 mind soothed and exalted by the conver- 
 sation of a well-acting and right-thinking 
 Christian man; — whether, like another 
 Penelope, she is to regret the absence of 
 a husband wandering in other lands, or 
 navigating the stormy deep; to be united 
 to a home-dwelling partner, and make 
 with him a pair as inseparable as the two 
 staves of a piece of music for the piano- 
 forte, and as like in sentiment as the two 
 texts of a biglot Bible ; — ^whether she is 
 to inhabit the " flaunting town," or to live 
 in the quiet farms and fields ; — when we 
 think and reflect that her destiny depends 
 upon him whom she chooses for better or 
 for worse, we cannot be surprised that 
 young females hanker to know what sort 
 of men the fates have given them for 
 husbands, even at an early age. 
 
 In my childhood, a time when — as Pe- 
 trarch says of old age — little lovers may 
 be allowed 
 
 " Sedersi insieme, e dir ch* lor incontra," 
 
1175 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCXOBER 8. 
 
 \176 
 
 to sit together, and say whatever comes 
 into their heads; when the pretty name 
 of Flora or Fanny was not a whit more 
 charming to me than Tom or Jack; 
 and when a pound oF marbles, with half 
 a score of shouting boy-playmates, were 
 as pleasing as a dance with a party of 
 smiling, rosy girls; I recollect some of 
 my female friends, while gathering flowers 
 in a meadow, would stop, and, plucking 
 a large daisy, pull off the petals one by 
 one, repeating at the same time the words 
 
 ** iiich man, poor mau, -fanner, ploughman, 
 
 thief ;" 
 fancying, very seriously, that the one 
 which came to be named at plucking the 
 last petal would be her husband. Another 
 way of knowing the future husband (in- 
 ferior only to the dark words of that high 
 priestess of the oracles of Hymen, the 
 cunning gypsey), is, to pluck an e'en 
 ash-leaf, and, putting it into the hand, to 
 say, 
 
 '' The even ash-leaf in my hand, 
 " The first I meet shall be my man." 
 
 Then, putting it into the glove, to say, 
 
 " The even ash-leaf in my glove, 
 •' I'he first I meet shall be my love." 
 
 And, lastly, into the bosom, saying, 
 
 ' The even ash-leaf in my bosom, 
 " The' first I meet shall be my husband. " 
 
 Soon after which the future husband will 
 make his appearance, and the lass may 
 observe him as accurately as site will. 
 
 Midsummer Eve, however, is the great 
 time wiih girls for discovering who shall 
 be their husbands; why it is so, more 
 than any other, I cannot tell, unless, in- 
 deed, the sign Gemini, which the sun then 
 leaves, is symbolical of the wedding 
 union : but, however that may be, a 
 maiden will walk through the garden at 
 midsummer, with a rake on her left 
 shoulder, and throw hemp-seed over her 
 right, saying, at the same time 
 
 " Hemp- seed 1 set, hemp-seed I sow. 
 " The man that is my true-love come after me 
 and mow," 
 
 It is said by many who have never 
 tried it, and some who have, without 
 effect, that the future husband of the 
 hemp-sowing girl will appear behind her 
 with a scythe, and look as substantial as 
 a brass image of Saturn on an old time- 
 piece. Or if, at going to bed, she put 
 her shoes at right angles with each other, 
 ia the shape of a T, and say, 
 
 " Hoping this night my true love to see, 
 " I place my shoes in the form of a '1"." 
 
 they say she will be sure to see her hus- 
 bnnd in a dream, and perhaps in reality, 
 by her bed-side. Besides this, there is 
 another method of divination. A girl, on 
 going to bed, is to write the alphabet on 
 small pieces of paper, and put them into 
 a bason of water with the letters down- 
 ward ; and it is said that in the morning 
 she will find the first letter of her hus- 
 band's name turned up, and the others as 
 they were left. 
 
 The celebration of Peace, in August, 
 1814, took place when I was a boy, old 
 enough to enjoy the merry doings at my 
 native village, and to remember them till 
 now. The respectable inhabitants sub- 
 scribed largely to treat the poor with a 
 public dinner of beef and pudding, and 
 strong beer. Their festival was held in a 
 field by the river side, where several 
 hundreds of people, young and old, sat 
 down at two long lines of tables. Their 
 hearing was gratified by the lively music 
 of a band ; and their taste and smell by the 
 savour of a wholesome old English meal, 
 at which they held their noses for an hour 
 over the steam of boiled beef, or thrust 
 them at intervals into the cool deepening 
 vacuum of the beer jug. Their sight was 
 afterwards indulged with spectacles of 
 village merry-making ; and their feelings 
 by the twistings and twinings, and spirit- 
 stirring hop, skip, and jump agitations of 
 the dance : gallopades were not then in- 
 vented, or t^vo thousand people might 
 have hopped along in a string, like a row 
 of little mop-stem-riding boys on their 
 wooden horses. Among the sports were 
 Jumping in sacks, thus performed : — half 
 a dozen men were put into as many sacks, 
 which were tied round their necks, and 
 gave them the shape of a row of blacking 
 jars in a shop. In this state they were to 
 hop a given distance for the mastery; 
 and, as they could not erect themselves 
 into the natural perpendicular of the 
 human body, whe < they fell down, there 
 were what may have been called resur- 
 lection men, to help them up There 
 was Grinning through horse-collars, in 
 which the winner is he who can thrust 
 through a horse's collar the ugliest Sample 
 of a human face ; either by showing the 
 odd substitutes which nature might have' 
 stuck in his head for features, or else by 
 distorting them into something still more 
 unlike, and uglier than natural features. 
 Besides these there was Running by young 
 
mf 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 8. 
 
 uro 
 
 women, a sport in which the victress re- 
 ceived a white huUand shift ; not without 
 having shown, however, by the high up- 
 flinging of her " light fantastic toe " in the 
 race, that she could mark her initials, 
 and, at least No. 2, upon it. Running 
 for the pig with the greased tail was a 
 famous general chase, in which the indi- 
 vidual who caught the pig by the tail 
 became its lawful owner — when, after 
 many long strides and hard strainings, 
 many a breathless wight overtook the 
 galloping porker, and grasped the slippery 
 little member, " Heu omnis effusus labor .'" 
 it slipped through the fingers, and the 
 trotters carried off the head, hams, and 
 sides, at full speed, till a dexterous victor 
 made them his own. An effigy of Buo- 
 naparte was also carried about : this the 
 good people first hung, then shot, and 
 lastly burnt; thus securing the arch 
 enemy of England by various deaths, as, 
 in a suit at law, the plaintiff secureth ihe 
 defendant by the various counts in the 
 declaration. 
 
 TAe Fair Day is to the milk-maids and 
 striplings of some villages one of the 
 brightest in their calendar. As the time 
 approaches to it, their joy rises, like the 
 mercury in a barometer at the coming of 
 fine weather. The children lessen their 
 outlay for toys and sweetmeats, and hoard 
 -the saved pence ; and the trite observation 
 on meeting friends, that " it is fine wea- 
 ther," gives place to the earnest question, 
 " Be gwain to fii-yer o' Monday V Some 
 time ago, on a fine day in September, I 
 went to a famous fair, held at the foot of 
 one of the green hills of Dorset. When 
 I first set out I walked along the still 
 shady lanes alone, but, as I drew near the 
 f:iir-place, I commingled with a stream 
 of people, all tending to the same point. 
 There were groups of white-gowned, red- 
 faced lasses, led by their swains with 
 bunches of flowers stuck in the button- 
 holes of their long blue coats, and switch- 
 ing in one hand a tough ground-ash stick. 
 I had not a fair mate myself, and could 
 well listen to their observations. " How 
 much money hast got vor fayer ?" said a 
 ruddy little boy to another, whom he bad 
 a little before overtaken. " Zix-pence," 
 said the other, with a grin of satisfaction ; 
 thumping his hand on his pocket, and 
 erecting his body into a posture of dignity 
 he thought himself entitled to by his 
 wealth. Alas ! thought I, how true is it 
 that our wants are only imaginary, and 
 that riches and poverty are only relative 
 
 terms I this boy is prbud to go to fair 
 with hii sixpence, while many spend- 
 thrifts think themselves stinted if they 
 have not hundreds to squander in things 
 as worthless as those that will be bought 
 by him. With these thoughts in my 
 mind, ray attention was drawn to the 
 rude, though well-meant, salutation of a 
 Dorset swain, who, seeing a friend for- 
 ward, crept softly behind him, and with 
 the full force of an arm which had per- 
 haps been long exercised in mowing, or 
 swinging the flail, laid his stick athwart 
 his back, upon which his acquaintance 
 looked round, and received his assailant 
 with a hearty shake of the hand. I was 
 by this time in the fair, where the din of 
 drums and horns at the shows, the loud 
 invitation, " Walk up, walk up," of the 
 showmen, the hum of voices, the squeak- 
 ing of fiddles, and the creaking of rattles, 
 made altogether a medley of sounds 
 which, supposing with Pope " all dis- 
 cord harmony not understood," would 
 have been very pleasing to my ear, but for 
 my ignorance of harmony. Seeing a 
 merry-Andrew come out at one of the 
 s])ows, I went up'to listen to a few of his 
 niuch-repeated, though still laugh-stirring 
 jokes. He was surrounded by a crowd 
 of starers, with their faces all worked up 
 into grins, so exactly like his own that 
 they seemed reflections of his own — ^like 
 the faces you would see were you to 
 twist your mouth to the expression of 
 drolling laughter, and look into a multi- 
 plying glass. The dense crowd around 
 the show, was, however, suddenly scat- 
 tered by a bull. He had escaped from 
 the cattle-fair, to exhibit himself at full 
 run among the standings, where he was 
 received with chuckles and shouts by 
 those who were out of his way, and with 
 screams from women and children in his 
 line of race : after a short peep at the 
 humours of the fair, he was prevailed 
 upon to retire, and leave the bipeds to 
 their former fun. I withdrew with the 
 coming on of the evening : as I wound 
 round the hill the noise of the fair died 
 gradually away, and I reached my home 
 in silence. 
 
 A Perambulation, or, as it might be 
 more correctly called, a circumambula- 
 tion, is the custom of going round the 
 boundaries of a manor or parish, with 
 witnesses, to determine and preserve 
 recollection of its extent, and to see that 
 no encroachments have been made upon 
 it, and that the landmarks have not been 
 
1179 
 
 Tllli: YliAR BOOK.— OCTOBEK 9. 
 
 1180 
 
 taken away. It is a proceeding com- 
 monly regulated by the steward, who 
 takes with him a few men and several boys 
 who aie required to particularly observe 
 the boundary lines traced out, and thereby 
 qualify themselves for witnesses, in the 
 event of any dispute about the land- 
 marks or extent of the manor, at a future 
 day. In order that they may not forget 
 the lines and marks of separation, they 
 " take pains" at almost every turning. 
 For instance, if the boundary be a stream, 
 one of the boys is tossed into it; if a 
 broad ditch, the boys are oifered money to 
 jump over it, in which they of course fail, 
 and pitch into the mud, where they stick 
 as firmly as if they had been rooted there 
 for the season ; if a hedge, a sapling is 
 cut out of it, and used in afflicting that 
 part of their bodies upon which they rest 
 in the posture between standing and lying ; 
 if a wall, they are to have a race on the 
 top of it, when, in trying to pass each 
 other, they fall over on each side, — some 
 deseending, perhaps, into the still stygian 
 waters of a ditch, and others thrusting 
 the " human face divine" into a bed of 
 nettles ; if the boundary be a sunny bank^ 
 they sit down upon it, and get a treat of 
 beer, and bread and cheese, and, perhaps, 
 a glass of spirits. When these boys grow 
 up to be men, if it happens that one of 
 them should be asked if a particular 
 stream w«re the boundary of the liaanor 
 he had perambulated, he would be sure 
 to say, in the manner of Sancho Panfa, 
 " Ees, that 'tis, I'm sure o't, by the same 
 token that I were tossed into't, and pad* 
 died about there lik a water-rot, till I 
 wor hafe dead." If he should be asked 
 whether the aforesaid pteasant bank were 
 a boundary,-^ " O, ees it bey" he would 
 say, " that's where we squat down, and 
 tucked in a skinVuU of vittles and drink." 
 With regard to any boundary perambu- 
 lated after that, he would most likely 
 declare, " I won't be sartin ; I got zo 
 mnddled up top o' the banks, that don' 
 know where we ambulated arter that." 
 
 W, Barnes. 
 
 9th of October, 1690, died at the age 
 of eighty-seven sir John Maynard, an 
 eminent lawyer, who had been active in 
 the prosecution of the earl of Strafford 
 and archbishop Laud. He subscribed to 
 the solemn league and covenant, had 
 sat in the assembly of divines, and was 
 sent with Glynn to the Tower by the par- 
 liament, for opposing the victorious army. 
 Not in the least intimidated, he told the 
 house that, by voting no more addresses 
 to Charles I., they virtually dissolved 
 themselves ; and, when forcibly secluded, 
 he boldly broke in, and vehemently, but 
 vainly, pleaded for the king's life. During 
 the protectorate, he was equally intrepid 
 in pleading the cause of a gentleman, 
 who refused the payment of a tax not 
 granted by parliament. On that occasion 
 he was sent, with two other lawyers, to 
 the Tower; but was released upon; his 
 submission* and named serjeamt to the 
 protector Oliver, as he was afterwards to 
 Kichard Cromwell his successor. Charles 
 ll. recalled him to the ooif^ knighted him, 
 and would have made him a judge, but 
 he refused the intended honor. At the 
 revolution he waited upon the prince of 
 •Orangej Who, observing his; great age, 
 said, " You must haire outlived all the 
 men of the law who have been your con- 
 temporaries :" Maynai'd replied, " Ye s 
 sir ; and, if your highness had not come 
 over, I shobld hive outlived the law 
 itself." When the prince was declared 
 king, he named sir John Maynard one of 
 the lords commissioners of the great seal. 
 His pjiofeasibnall Skill was very great. 
 He di«d fit Gilmiersbnry, in the parish of 
 Ealing, and was bu'hed in that church. 
 He is called in the register "the lord 
 Manard."* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October &> Day breaks . . 4 33 
 
 Sun rises . . ■ . 6 26 
 
 — sets. . , . i5 34 
 
 Twilifbt ends . . 7 27 
 
 African and French marigolds fade and 
 
 will be soon cut off by frosty nights. 
 
 At Hertford assizes, 4 Cir. I., the fol- 
 lowing information was taken by Sif John 
 Maynard, from the deposition Of the 
 minister of the parish Whefre ai murdef 
 was committed :— "That the body being 
 taken out of the grave thirty days after 
 the party's death, arid lying oti the grass, 
 and the four defendants (suspected of 
 murdering her) being required, each of 
 them toudhed the dead body,' whStenpon 
 the brow of the dead, vrtiich before was of 
 a livid and carrion cdiot, began to have a 
 
 ' Noble. 
 
1181 
 
 TUE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER to, 11. 
 
 1183 
 
 dew, or gentle sweat, arise on it, which 
 increased by degrees, till the sweat ran 
 down in drops on the face; the brow 
 turned to a Uvely and fresh color; and 
 the deceased opened one of her eyes, and 
 shut it again three several times : she 
 likewise thrust out the ring or marriage 
 finger three times, and pulled it in again, 
 and the finger dropt blood upon the grass." 
 The minister of the next parish, who also 
 was present, being sworn, gave evidence 
 exactly as above. See further on this 
 subject Oct. 12 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October 9. — Day breaks . 
 
 . 4 35 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 6 28 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 5 32 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 7 25 
 
 ii^ctofier 10. 
 
 October 10, 1723, died at his seat at 
 Colnegreen, near Hertford, William Cow- 
 per, Earl Cowper, who had filled the 
 office of lord nigh chancellor with in- 
 tegrity and ability. He was eldest son 
 and heir of Sir William Cowper, baronet, 
 and had been entered with his only 
 brother, Spencer, of the profession of the 
 law. Spencer became a judge in the 
 Court of Common Pleas, but in 1705 
 William was appointed lord-keeper ; and 
 afterwards lord ChaliEfcellor of Great 
 Britain. With a greatness of mind that 
 marked bis character, he ordered a chair 
 for Richard Cromwell, when he attended 
 upon a trial at Westminster-hall. For 
 this civility to the es^prolector of the 
 common wealth, it was expected that 
 earl Cowper wOuld have been reprimand- 
 ed by the reigning sovereign, but he 
 received praise and thanks. He had the 
 honor to abolish the immemorial custom of 
 "New-year's" gifts to the chancellor.* 
 
 Mrs. Madan, whose maiden name was 
 Cowper, and who was perhaps a sister of 
 the preceding, wife of colonel Madan, 
 and wrote the following 
 
 Verses in her Brothea's Coke upon 
 
 Littleton. 
 O tboa, who labour'st in this rugged mine, 
 May'st them to gold tb' unpolish'd ore refine ! 
 May each dark page unfold its haggard brow ! 
 Doubt not to- reap, if thou can'st bear to 
 plough. 
 
 • Noblo. 
 
 To tempt thy care, may, each revolving night> 
 Parses and maces swim before thy sight ! 
 From hence in times to come, advent'rous 
 
 deed! 
 May'st thou essay to look and speak like 
 
 Mead! 
 When the black bag and rose no more shall 
 
 shade 
 With martial air the honours of thy head ; 
 When the full wig thy visage shall enclose. 
 And only leave to view thy learned nose ; 
 Safely may'st thou defy beaux, ' wits, and 
 
 scoffers. 
 While tenants, in fee-simple, stuff thy coffers ! 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October 10. Day breaks . . 4 37 
 
 Sun rises ... 6 30 
 
 — sets ... 5 30 
 
 Twilight etids . ^ 7 23 
 
 Golden rod, almost out of flower. 
 
 a^ctotev 11. 
 
 11th of October, 1806j the remains 
 of the right honorable Charles James 
 Fox were interred in Westminster-abbey. 
 
 At the sale of Mr. Fox's library the 
 following memorandum and verses were 
 found in his hand writing in the first 
 volume of a presentation copy of Gibbon's 
 "" Decline and fall of the Roman Empire " 
 
 " The author of this book, upon the 
 delivery of the Spanish rescript in 1779, 
 declared publicly at Brookes's that there 
 was no salvation for this country, unless 
 six of the heads of the cabinet council 
 were cut off, and laid on the table of the 
 houses of parliament, as exain^e», and in 
 no less than a fortnight aftSr this declata- 
 ration he look an employment tnAet the 
 same cabinet council. 
 
 " King George in a tagbt. 
 
 Lest Gibbon should write 
 The story of Britain's disgrace ;_ 
 
 Thought no means more sure 
 
 His pen to secure. 
 Than to give the historian a place. 
 
 But his caution is vain^ 
 
 'Tis the curse of his reign 
 That his projects shall never succeed ; 
 
 Though he write not a Uae , 
 
 Yet a cause of decline 
 In-the author's example we resd« 
 
 His book well describes 
 
 How coiToptioD and bribes 
 OveHhifew the great empve of Rome ; 
 
 And bis writings declare 
 
 A degeneracy there, 
 Which bis conduct exhibits at Lome !" 
 
1183 
 
 TIIF. YKAR nOOK.-^OCTQBEil 12> 13. 
 
 :ir>C4 
 
 October 1 1 . Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 
 4 39 
 
 6 32 
 
 5 28 
 
 7 'Ji 
 
 a^ctoliev 12. 
 
 Bleedikg of the Murdered. 
 
 King James I,, in his " Dcemonology," 
 says, " In a secret murlher, if the dead 
 carkasse be at any time thereafter handled 
 by the murtherer, it will gush out of 
 blood, as if the blood were crying to 
 heaven for revenge of the murtherer." 
 
 The authpr of the "Living Librarie, 
 1621," ipquires, "Who can allege any 
 certaine and firme reason why the blood 
 runnes out of the wounds of a man mur- 
 dred, long after the murder committed, if 
 the murderer be brought before the dead 
 bodie ?" 
 
 Reginald Scot too, in his " Discovery 
 of Witchcraft," says, " I have heard by 
 credible report, that the wound of a man 
 murthered renews bleeding at the pre- 
 sence of a dear friend or of a mortal enemy. 
 Divers also write that if one pass by a 
 murthered body (though unknown) he 
 shall be striken with fear, and feel in 
 himself some alteration of nature." 
 
 In relation to this belief is the following 
 in Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 4to: — "A 
 gentlewoman went to church so concealed, 
 that she thought nobody could know her. 
 It chanced that her lover met her, and 
 knew her, and spake unto her : Sir, (she 
 answered) you mistake me, how know ye 
 me ! All too well, replied the gentleman', 
 for so soon as I met youj behold' my 
 wounds fell fresh a bleeding 1 Oh, hereof 
 you only are guilty."* 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October 12. Day breaks . , 
 
 , 4 41 
 
 Sun rises . , . 
 
 , fi 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 . 5 26 
 
 Twilight ends . . 
 
 , 7 19 
 
 Woodcocks begin to arrive 
 
 
 ^ttobtv 13. 
 
 1 3 October 1683, died Dr. George Hickes 
 then a probendary in Worcester cathe- 
 dral. At the revolution, he was a warm 
 supporter of James II. and was deprived 
 
 Brand. 
 
 fur declining to take the oaths to William 
 and Mary. Upon that oc:asion he wrote 
 a paper, addressed to the membeis of his 
 cathedral, in which he declared his rights 
 still valid ; and affixed it at the entrance 
 of the choir. This was thought so great 
 an insult on the government that the at- 
 torney-general was ordered to prosecute 
 him for it. It is a singular fact that his 
 brother John IJickes had been a non-con- 
 formist minister, and was executed for 
 being concerned in Monmouth's rebellion ; 
 and that George became the cham- 
 pion of the nonjurors, and, changing his 
 clerical garb, sheltered himself at Amers- 
 den, in Oxfordshire, under the roof of 
 Dr. White Kennett, who was a violent 
 a revolutionist." Good resulted from 
 the association of these two opposite 
 characters. It was impossible for them 
 to converse sciably on church religion, 
 and their general topic was literature. 
 Kennett obtained Hickes's assistance in ac- 
 quiringa knovvledge of the northern Euro- 
 pean languages; and .this intercourse laid 
 the foundation of Dr. Hickes' "Thesau rus," 
 a work which gained him, a deserved re- 
 putation for immense learning in Anglo- 
 Saxon, and the Runic and other northern 
 dialects. At length Hickes was disco- 
 vered in his asylum at his friend 
 Keiinett's, and compelled to fly for privacy 
 elsewhere. He secreted himself in Lon- 
 don, and lived in obscurity, until lord 
 chancellor Somers, who venerated his 
 learning, procured a noli prosequi, which 
 freed Hicke's from personal danger; 
 still he was insensible to moderation. 
 He bore inveterate hatred to archbishop 
 Tillotson, whom he treated in controver- 
 sy as an " atheist," but the amiable pri- 
 mate used no acrimony in reply. He called 
 bishop Burnet a liar, and the prelate re- 
 torted, by charging Hickes with being 
 all but a papist. Hickes, with a con- 
 stancy which the stake could not have 
 shaken, made heaven's gate so narrow 
 that it could admit none but a few non- 
 jurors to pass. Whilst we lament his 
 ■bigotry, we exult in his learning, which 
 has done honour to his country* 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October 1 3. Day breaks . 
 
 . 4 43 
 
 Sun rises 
 
 . 6 35 
 
 — sets 
 
 . .5 25 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 7 17 
 
 ' NoB'.e. 
 
1185 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 14. 
 
 1186 
 
 BASING-HOUSE, HANTS. 
 
 H^ttOttV 14. 
 
 On the 14th of October, 1645, during 
 the civil wars, Basing-honse was taken 
 by storm for the Parliament by Cromwell. 
 The preceding view of it at that period 
 is upon the authority of an ancient draw- 
 ing. * 
 
 Basing-house was so called from 
 Basing, or Old Basing, a considerable 
 village in Hampshire, about two miles 
 north-east of Basingstoke. The name is 
 Saxon, and signifies a coat of mail, to 
 which the place is said to have borne some 
 resemblance. That Basing, previous to 
 the conquest, was of more importance 
 than Basingstoke, there is no reason to 
 doubt, from tlie Saxon addition to the 
 latter of " stoke," signifying a hamlet. 
 
 In 871, a bloody battle was fought at 
 Basing between the Danes and Saxons 
 eammanded by King Ethelred and his 
 '.f ether Alfred, in which the latter were 
 i'/zated. It attained to more recent fame 
 
 * From an engraving in '• The History of 
 Basing-Iianse," an octavo pamphlet, published 
 by S. Chandler, Basingstoke, lB27,whence arc 
 derived the subsequent particulars. 
 
 Vox,. I— ,38. 
 
 for its defence against the parliament 
 forces, by John Pawlet, Marquis of Win- 
 chester, a lineal descendant from Hugh 
 de Port, who, at the period of the Domes- 
 day survey, held fifty-five lordships in 
 this county. Basing was the chief' of 
 these large possessions, and appears to 
 have been very early the site of a castle, 
 as mention of the land of the old castle 
 of Basing occurs in a grant made by 
 John de Port, to the neighbouring priory 
 of Monk's Sherborne, in the reign of 
 Henry II. William, his grandson, as 
 sumed the name of St. John ; and Ro- 
 bert, lord St. John, in the forty-third of 
 Henry II., obtained a license to fix a pole 
 upon the bann of his moat at Basing, 
 with permission to continue it so fortified 
 during the king's pleasure. In the time 
 of Richard II., Basing, with other estates 
 of the family, was transferred, by mar- 
 riage, to the Poynings ; and again in tht 
 time of Henry VI. to the Pawlets, by the 
 marriage of Constance, heiress of tha 
 former, with Sir John Pawlet, of Nunny^ 
 Castle in Somersetshire. Sir William 
 Pawlet, Knt., third in descent from them, 
 was created Baron St. John, of Basing, 
 by Henry VIII., and earl of Wiltshire, 
 and Marquis of Winchester, by Edward 
 2 Q 
 
1187 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 14. 
 
 1188 
 
 VI. He enjoyed court favor through 
 most of the successive change? in the 
 reigns of Henry VIII., Edward VI., 
 Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth, and 
 held the office of lord treasurer nearly 
 thirty years. Being asked how he con- 
 trived to maintain his station during those 
 perilous times, in which so many great 
 changes had taken place in church and 
 state, he answered, " by being a willow 
 and not an oak." He rebuilt the castle 
 at Basing in a magnificent style. Camden, 
 in allusion to the vast expense of 
 living entailed on the family by its splen- 
 dor, observes, that " it was so overpowered 
 by its own weight that his posterity have 
 been obliged to pull down a pari of it." 
 
 King. Edward VI. with his letinue, was 
 entertained for four days at Basing, by the 
 Marquis of Winchester ; and king Philip 
 and queen Mary, whom the Marquis had 
 accompanied to Winchester, after their 
 marriage, were also entertained at Basing 
 for five days. Here also, in 1560, he 
 entertained Queen Elizabeth, so much to 
 her satisfaction, that she playfully lamented 
 his great age : " For, by my troth," said 
 the queen, " if my lord Marquis were but 
 a young man, I could find in my heart 
 to have him for a husband, before any 
 man in England." The marquis lived to 
 see 103 of his own immediate descend- 
 ants ; he died in 1572, at the age of ninety- 
 seven, and was buried in Basing church. 
 
 In 1601, William, his great grandson, 
 and fourth Marquis of Winchester, had 
 likewise queen Elizabeth for a guest, 
 during a period of " thirteen days, to the 
 greate charge of the sayde lorde mar- 
 quesse." Her majesty was accompanied 
 in this visit by the duke of Biron, with 
 about twenty of the I'Vench nobility ; 
 and a retinue of nearly 400 persons were 
 lodged at the Vine, the seat of lord 
 Sandys, which house had been purposely 
 furnished with hangings and plate from 
 the Tower, and Hampton Court, " and 
 with seven score beds and furniture, 
 which the willing and obedient people of 
 the countrie of Southampton, upon two 
 dayes warning, had brought in thither to 
 lend the Queene." When Elizabeth 
 departed from Basing she affirmed, that 
 " she had done that in Hampshire that 
 none of her ancestors ever, did, neither 
 that any prince in Christendome could 
 doe ; that was, she had in her progresses 
 at her subjects' houses entertained a royal 
 ambassador, and had royally entertained 
 him." This marquis died in 1628, at 
 
 Hawkwood, now Hackwood, the present 
 seat of his descendants. 
 
 It was John, fifth Marquis of Win- 
 chester, who rendered his name famous 
 by bravely defending Basing-house for 
 upwards of two years, while it was helea- 
 gured by the parliament forces. This 
 noble mansion was built upon a rising 
 ground, and surrounded with a brick 
 rampart lined with earth, and all was en- 
 compassed with a dry ditch. Basing- 
 house is not to be confounded- with the 
 castle, to the east of which it was situated 
 at a small distance. The marquis's gar- 
 rison much distressed the parliamenta- 
 rians by the command the house had of 
 the western road, and it was several times 
 besieged by their forces, who greatly 
 distressed, but could not take it. The 
 marquis declared, that " if the king had 
 no more ground in England than Basing- 
 house he would hold it out to the last 
 extremity." At first ne had with him 
 only his own family, and a hundred mus- 
 queteers, but afterwards the king supplied 
 him as occasion required. It was at this 
 time that, to inspire the garrison with 
 courage and perseverance, he wrote lyith 
 a diamond in the window the words 
 " Love Loyalty ;" for which reason the 
 house was called " Loyalty House," and 
 the words in French, " Aimeg Loyaulte," 
 afterwards became the motto of the family 
 arms, as they are to this day. 
 
 Basing-house was first invested in 
 August, 1643; the first material assaults 
 were made by Sir William Waller, called 
 from his former successes William the 
 Conqueror, who thrice within nine days 
 attempted to take it by storm, with seven 
 thousand men, but was repulsed, and 
 obliged to retreat with great loss to Fam- 
 ham. The secretary of the king's council 
 of war, Sir Edward Walker, knt., garter 
 principal king of arms, has left a minute 
 journal of interesting transactions relating 
 to the lengthened siege. Basing-house 
 vras thoroughly provisioned, and reso- 
 lutely defended. At length, after the 
 battle of Alresford, Sir William WaHei" 
 conceived the design of mastering the 
 plac^ by means of a private correspond- 
 ence witb lord Edward Pawlet bro- 
 ther to the marquis of Winchester, and 
 then living with him in Basing-house, 
 unsuspected of treachery. Sir Richard 
 Grenvil engaged to leave the metro- 
 polis with a body of horse to join Waller. 
 Grenvil appointed a rendezvous for his 
 cavalry at Bagshot, and the same day left 
 
1189 
 
 THE YKAR BOOK.— OCTOBEU U. 
 
 1190 
 
 London with his equipage only, consisting 
 of a coach and six horses, and many led 
 horses and servants ; but when he arrived 
 at Staines he suddenly left the Bagshot 
 road for Reading, where the king's gar- 
 rison then vras, and thence without delay 
 proceeded to Oxford, where he was very 
 graciously received by the king, who had 
 not expected him. He immediately 
 acquainted the king with the whole design 
 for the surprise of Basing ; upon which 
 the king sent the information by an ex- 
 press to the marquis, who instantly seized 
 his brother and his confed.eratcs, and ex- 
 torted from them a full confession of 
 their plans. He then turned his brother 
 out of the garrison, and executed his 
 accomplices. By this discovery Basing- 
 house was for that time preserved, while 
 the parliament denounced Sir Richard 
 Grenvil with judgments of attainder, 
 confiscation, and incapacity of pardon. 
 
 At this period the king's cause was 
 declining every where, and Cromwell 
 came with his victorious troops out of the 
 west. He closely invested Basing-house, 
 threw up works and attacked it so vigor- 
 ously that the royalists desired a parley. 
 Oliver would hearken to no proposals, 
 but began the assault at six in the morn- 
 ing ; and Sir Hardress Waller's and Colo- 
 nel Montague's regiments having forced 
 the strongest works they suddenly scaled 
 the walls and entered the house before 
 the besieged perceived their danger. 
 There is a traditionary report that the 
 garrison was surprised, while many of 
 them were engaged at cards, and hence 
 card players of the neighbourhood have 
 still a common saying, of, " Clubs trump, 
 as when Basing-house was taken." This 
 edifice which had held out so long, and 
 had been thought almost impregnable, 
 was carried by storm in three-quarters of 
 an hour. Besides ten pieces of ordnance, 
 with 2000 stand of arms and ammunition, 
 which fell to the assailants, the store of 
 victuals in the place was enormous. 
 There were 400 quarters of wheat, 200 
 barrels of beef, 300 flitches of bacon, 
 40,000 pounds of cheese, and numerous 
 cellars filled with beer. The plunder of 
 treasure and furniture amounted in value 
 to £200,000. There was in one room a 
 bed which had cost £1300, with many 
 catholic books, copes, and rich utensils of 
 worship. The silver plate was valued at 
 above £5000, and there were several 
 cabinets of jewels and other valuables. 
 One soldier had six score pieces of gold. 
 
 amounting to £360, for his share. An- 
 other seized three bags of silver, but, not 
 being able to keep his own counsel, 
 it fell to common pillag<; amongst his 
 companions, so that at last he had but 
 one half crown for himself. The wheat, 
 household goods, and lumber, with a great 
 part of the other plunder, was sold to the 
 country people, who loaded it away in 
 carts; and the house was burnt to the 
 ground and demolished. About 200 pri- 
 soners were taken, including the marquis 
 himself, and several other persons of dis- 
 tinction. They were sent up to the par- 
 liament by Cromwell, who received the 
 thanks of the house for tliese services. 
 
 During the siege. Dr. Thomas Johnson, 
 the celebrated botanist, was with the 
 royal army, and received a wound of 
 which he died. Six catholic priests were 
 found among the slain. Robinson, a 
 stage player, was killed by major-general 
 Harrison, who is said to have refused 
 him quarter, and shot him in the head 
 when he had laid down his arms, with 
 this quotation from scripture : " Cursed 
 is he that doeth the work of the Lord 
 negligently." Dr. Thomas Fuller, author 
 of the " Church History of Britain," 
 then chaplain to the royal army under 
 Lord Hopton, had been for some time 
 shut up in Basing-house, while it was 
 besieged by Sir William Waller; and 
 there amid the den of war, as if sitting in 
 the study of a quiet parsonage, he pro- 
 secuted his favorite work, entitled " The 
 Worthies of England," discovering no 
 sign of fear, but only complaining that 
 the noise of the cannon, which was con- 
 tinually thundering from the lines of the 
 besiegers, interrupted him in digesting 
 his notes; an indifference, during so great 
 a danger, similar to that of the water 
 carrier, who, at the siege of another place, 
 was going about, crying " Water, three- 
 pence a bucket — " a bomb-shell took away 
 one of his buckets — he then cried " six- 
 pence a bucket," and walked on. Ful- 
 ler's coolness and facetiousness, however, 
 animated the garrison to so vigorous a 
 defence, that Waller was obliged to raise 
 the siege for that time with considerable 
 loss. 
 
 The number of soldiers slain before 
 Basing-house, from the first commence- 
 ment of the siege, is recorded to have been 
 upwards of 2000. Hugh Peters was 
 with Cromwell's forces at the taking of 
 the place, and being sent by Oliver to 
 London to make a report to the Parlia- 
 2 Q 2 
 
1191 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 14. 
 
 1192 
 
 ment, he said, Basiiig-house yras fit for 
 an empeior to dwell in, it was so spacious 
 and beautiful. It is recorded that the mar- 
 quis's garrison had picked up incredible 
 Dooty. Lying, as they did, just on the 
 great western road, they intercepted car- 
 riages, plundered waggons, and suffered 
 nothing to pass, to the great interruption 
 of the trade of the city of London. The 
 gaining of Basing-house was esteemed a 
 national service ; for it opened the inter- 
 course which had been long obstructed 
 between the metropolis and the west of 
 England. It was probably on this occa- 
 sion that the sign of " Basing-House" 
 became exhibited as the attractive sign ot 
 an inn, which still exists, near Shoreditch 
 in London, 
 
 The Holy Ghost chapel, at Basiiig- 
 stoke, is said to have been stripped of its 
 covering of lead to make balls for the use 
 of the besiegers of Basing-house. In 
 the same neighbourhood, Farleigh-housT 
 was made a garrison for the parliament, 
 when the inscriptions and all the brass 
 plates in the church were taken away. 
 A field situated on the right of the road 
 leading from Basing to Basingstoke, near 
 the bridge, over the canal, is still called 
 Slaughter Close. This is traditionally 
 reported to have been the scene of a san- 
 guinary contest, at a time when the gar- 
 rison made a sally to obstruct or destroy 
 the offensive works of the besiegers. 
 The slain on both sides were buried in 
 that field, which to this day produces 
 most abundant crops of every thing sown 
 in it. 
 
 Where is the dust that has not been alive ? 
 The spade^ the plough^ disturb our ancestors ; 
 From human mould we reap our daily bread. 
 As nature wide, our ruins spread , man's 
 
 death 
 Inhabits all things but the thought of man. 
 
 The late Mr. Moses Barton Legg, of 
 Basingstoke, was curious in his enquiries 
 respecting the antiquities of the neigh- 
 bourhood, and has left memorandums 
 containing particulars of Basing-house, 
 from which the following are extracts : 
 
 " 29th Aug. 1799. 
 " Walked with James Exall up Back- 
 lane, which he supposes was formerly a 
 street, where he pointed out some old 
 brickwork, to all appearance the remains 
 of the foundations of a house. We went 
 to the ruins of Basing-house, where he 
 pointed out the spot where the original 
 
 house stood, and the cellars, on the east 
 of the gateway ; two arches of brickwork 
 crossing directly over each other ; and 
 several pieces of wood, cinder, and burnt 
 tile, which seem to show that the build- 
 ings were set on fire, after the house was 
 taken. The oblong flat in front of the 
 keep was a bowling-green, and kept in 
 order since his recollection. There were 
 several large fir trees on it which were cut 
 down by Charles, duke of Bolton. — 
 Round the top of the keep was a parapet 
 wall, full four feet high above the gravel 
 walk ; part of the gravel now remains. 
 
 " After the original house was destroyed 
 a mansion was built on the north side of 
 the road, opposite the ruins. The piers 
 of fine jointed brickwork were the entrance 
 to the mansion, which was pulled down 
 fifty or sixty years ago, by the then duke, 
 and the materials carried to Cannons near 
 Kingsclere,* 
 
 " In a field near the brick bridge, 
 called Slaughter Close, an old oak Pol- 
 lard, containing at least seven or eight 
 cord of wood, was cut down about twenty 
 years ago, and given away for firewood. 
 Exall saw it split up, and a great number 
 of musket balls taken out of it." 
 
 Pitch Croft, a piece of ground, the 
 more proper name of which is Priest 
 Croft, appears to have been a fort. There 
 was a house &c., there formerly, said to 
 have been the residence of a priest, who 
 officiated at Basing-house. 
 
 Most of the foregoing particulars were 
 obtained by Mr. Legg from one Moss, a. 
 man of ninety years old or upwards, who 
 died above thirty years ago. 
 
 Mr. Legg writes, "1800, March 1st, 
 Went to look at the ruins, and met Lord 
 Bolton, when 1 had a long conversation 
 with his lordship,. He pointed out the 
 alterations he intended to make, as he 
 *ook great delight in the place. On my 
 expressing my regret that there was no 
 drawing of the original house, &c. extant, 
 at least that I could hear of, he told me 
 that he had one ; pointed out the spot 
 where the original house stood, which 
 was just the same as Exall told me the 
 29th of August last; also that the one 
 which stood on the north side,, was a sub- 
 sequent erection ; for after the original 
 mansion was taken by Oliver's forces, it 
 was set fire to, and destroyed, with most 
 
 • Part of the materials is said to have been 
 used in building the old George Inn, at Ba- 
 singstoke. 
 
1193 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 15. 
 
 1194 
 
 of the valuable paintings, palpers, &c.'' 
 In digging the canal at Basing, several 
 human skeletons, cannon balls, coins, and 
 other ancient articles were found. An 
 immense old chalk pit, a little to the 
 north of Basing, is still known by the 
 name of " Oliver Cromwell's Dell." 
 
 it appears,' from a survey made in 
 1798, that the area of the works, includ- 
 ing the garden and the entrenchment, 
 occupied about fourteen acres and a half. 
 The form was irregular, the ditches deep, 
 and the ramparts high and strong ; some 
 of the remains are yet very bold and 
 and striking. The citadel was circular, 
 having an oblong square platform at the 
 north, defended by a rampart and covered 
 way. The north gateway is yet standing : 
 which, surmounted with venerable ivy, 
 concealing the ancient arms of the Paw- 
 lets, constitutes a fine relic of former 
 grandeur. Part of the outward walls,- 
 constructed with brick, still remain. The 
 site of the ruins is particularly command- 
 ing : the canal from Basingstoke has been 
 cut through part of the works; and the 
 outward intrenchments have been ren- 
 dered very obscure and imperfect, from 
 some late improvements in the ground. 
 The medium depth of the fosse, which 
 surrounded the citadel, is about thirty-six 
 feet perpendicular. 
 
 The marquis of Winchester, whose pro- 
 perty was thus reduced to ruin in the 
 cause of Charles I., was a catholic. He 
 lived till the restoration, but received no 
 recompence from an ungrateful court, for 
 his immense losses. During the latter 
 part of his life, he resided at Englefield, 
 in Berkshire, where he greatly enlarged 
 tlie manor-house, the front of which bore 
 a beautiful resemblance to a church-organ, 
 and was a singularly pleasing object to 
 all that passed the road between Reading 
 and Newbury ; this fine front is now no 
 more. The marquis translated from the 
 French the " Gallery of Heroic Women," 
 1652; and Talon's "Holy History," 
 1653. He died in 1674, and was buried 
 in the parish church of Englefield, where 
 there is a monument to him with an 
 epitaph in English by Dryden. There is 
 a portrait of him among the ovals of 
 Hollar, who likewise engraved a very 
 small view of Basing-house, which is 
 extremely rare : a print of this view at 
 Dr. Combes' sale produced £30. Hollar 
 was with the marquis in Basing-hpuse at 
 
 the time of the assault, but 
 
 effected his 
 
 escape. 
 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October 14. Day breaks 
 
 . 4 45 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 6 37 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 5 23 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 7 15 
 
 a^ctotev 15. 
 
 15 October, 1724, died in confinement, 
 at the age of seventy-four, Paul Atkinson, 
 a Franciscan friar. He was a native of 
 Yorkshire, and had been infamously be- 
 trayed by his female servant, for a reward 
 of 100/., under the penal statue of 
 William III. against Romish priests. He 
 was condemned to perpetual impri- 
 sonment, in Hurst Castle, in the Isle of 
 Wight; and lived there with cheerful 
 composure, beloved and respected by the 
 governor, and the whole neighbourhood, 
 as an unfortunate, amiable man. He had 
 been allowed the liberty of occasionally 
 walking abroad, till some wretched bigots 
 complained of the humane indulgence, and 
 then he voluntarily retired to his poor 
 lodging, that he might give no offence, 
 nor occasion blame to his kind keeper; 
 he never again left the castle, nor 
 would he permit any application to be 
 made for a mitigation of his doom. Upon 
 his death, in prison, his remains were re- 
 moved to Winchester, and interred in 
 the cemetery of St. James's, the burial- 
 place of many Roman catholics. 
 
 Friar Atkinson is still remembered, 
 and tears have flowed from protestant eyes, 
 for his sad fate. It has been presumed 
 that had George I. and queen Caroline 
 been fully acquainted with his situation, 
 and his meek demeanour, his prison 
 doors would have been set open. Their 
 majesties were both friends to toleration ; 
 and the queen in particular frequently 
 entrusted the duchess of Norfolk with 
 sums of money, for distribution among 
 sufferers of the Roman catholic com- 
 munion.* 
 
 Verses 
 By an Ja.nonymou8 hand, 1587. 
 The sturdy lock, for all his strength, 
 By raging seas, is rent in twaine ; 
 The marble stone is pearst at length 
 With littel drops of drizzling raiue : 
 The ox doth yield unto the yoke. 
 The Steele obeyeth' the hammer-stroke. 
 
 ~ » Noble. 
 
1195 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 16. 
 
 1196 
 
 The itately stagge, that seemes sa stout 
 By yalping hnimds at day is set ; 
 The swiftest bird, that flies about. 
 Is caught at length in fowler's net : - 
 The greatest ^sh, in deepest brooke/ 
 Is soon deceived by subtill hooke 
 
 Yea, man himselfe^ unto whose will 
 All thinges are bounden to ohey. 
 For all bis wit and worthie skilly 
 Both fade at length and fall away : 
 There nothing is but Time doth waste j 
 The heavensv the earth consume at last. 
 
 But Virtue sits, triumphing still 
 Upon the throne of glorious fame ; 
 Though spiteful deith man's body kill 
 Yet hurts he not his vertuous name: 
 By life or death what so betides. 
 The state of virtue never slides. 
 
 h. m.. 
 October 15. — Jay breaks . . 4 47 
 Sun rises . . . 6 39 
 — sets ... 5 21 
 Twilight ends . 7 13 
 Swallows and martins have disappeared, 
 except a few str 
 
 OctOttV 16. 
 
 ife October, 1586, Sir Philip Sidney 
 died of his wounds at the battle of 
 Zutpheii ; he is said to have been inteiied 
 in St. Paul's cathedral with great pomp, 
 but without monument or iUscriplibii. 
 There are interesting memoirs of thv^ 
 " miracle of his age," and of 
 
 " the subject of all verse, 
 Sidney's sister," 
 
 Mary coun*ess of Pembroke, in "Morn- 
 ings in Spring,' by Dr. Drake, who 
 tbere inserts the following letter to sir 
 Philip, when twelve-years of age, and at 
 school at Shrewsbury, from his father sir 
 Henry Sidney. It is an epistle of ex- 
 cellent advice, and, that it may be better 
 noted, most of the sentiments are here se- 
 parated into paragraphs. 
 
 [From the original at Penshurst.!] 
 "I have received two letters from you, 
 one written in Latin, the other in French ; 
 which I lake in good part, and will you 
 to exercise that practice of learning often ; 
 tor that will stand you in most stead, in 
 that profession of life that you are born 
 to live in. And, since this is my first 
 letter that ever I did write to you, I will 
 not that it be all empty of some advices, 
 which my natural care of you provoketh 
 
 me to wish you to follow, as documents 
 to you in this your tender agfe. 
 
 Let your first action be the lifting up 
 of your mind to Almighty God by hearty 
 prayer; and feelingly digest the words 
 you speak in prayer, with continual me- 
 ditation and thinking of him to whom you 
 pray, and of the matter for which you 
 pray ; and use this at an ordinary hour, 
 whereby the time itself will put you in 
 remembrance to do that which you are 
 accustomed to do in that time. 
 
 Apply your study to such hours as 
 your discreet master doth assign you, 
 earhestly; and the time, I know, he will 
 so limit as shall be both sufficient for 
 your learning, and safe for your health. 
 
 And mark the sense and the matter of 
 that you read, as well as the words; so 
 shall you both enrich your tongue with 
 words, and your wit with matter; and 
 'udgnietit will grow as years groweth in 
 you. 
 
 Be humble and obedient to your master; 
 for unless you frame yourself to obey 
 others, yea, and feel in yourself what obe- 
 dience is, you shall never be able to teach 
 others how to obey you. 
 
 Be cautious of gesture, and affable to 
 all men, with diversity of reverence, ac- 
 cording to the dignity of the person, 
 There is nothing that winnelh so much 
 with so little cost. 
 
 Use moderate diet, so as, after your 
 meat, you may find your wit fresher and 
 not duller, and your body more lively, 
 and not more heavy. 
 
 Seldom drink wine, and yet sometimes 
 do, lest being enforced to drink upon 
 the sudden you should find yourself in- 
 flamed. 
 
 Use exercise of body, but such as is 
 without peril of your joints or bones ; 
 it Will increase your force and enlarge 
 your breath. 
 
 Delight to be cleanly, as well in all 
 parts of your body as in your garments ; 
 it shall make you grateful in each com- 
 pany, and, otherwise, loathsome. 
 
 Give yourself to be merry ; for you de- 
 generate from your father, if you find 
 not yourself most able in wit and body to 
 do any thing when you be most merry. 
 But let your mirth be ever void of al. 
 scurrility and biting words to any man ; 
 for a wound given by a word is often- 
 times harder to be cured than that which 
 is given with the sword. 
 
 Be you rather ahtarerand bearer away 
 of other men's t«ilc, than a beginner or 
 
1197 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 16. 
 
 1198 
 
 procurer of speech, otherwise you shall 
 be counted to delight to hear yourself 
 speak. 
 
 If you hear a wise sentence^ or an apt 
 phrase, commit it to your memory, with 
 respect to the circumstance when you 
 shall speak it. 
 
 Let never oath be heard to come out of 
 your mouth, nor word of ribaldry ; detest 
 It in others, so shall custom make to your- 
 self a law against it in yourself. 
 
 Be modest in each assembly ; and ra- 
 ther be rebuked of light fellows for mai- 
 den- like shamelacedness, than of your sad 
 friends for pert. boldness. 
 
 Think upon every word that you will 
 speak before you utter it, and remember 
 how nature hath rampered up, as it were, 
 the tongue with teeth, lips, yea, and hair 
 without the lips, and all betokening reins 
 or bridles for the loose use of that mem- 
 ber. 
 
 Above all things, tell no untruth, no 
 not in trifles. The custom of it is naught; 
 and let it not satisfy you, that, for a time, 
 the hearers take it for a truth; for, after, it 
 will be known as it is, to your shame ; 
 foi- there cannot be a greater reproach to 
 a gentleman than to be accounted a liar. 
 Study and endeavour yourself to be 
 virtuously occupied : so shall you make 
 such a habit of well doing in you, that 
 you shall not know how to do evil though 
 you would. 
 
 Remember, my son, the noble blood 
 you are descended of by your mother's 
 
 side, and think that only by virtuous life 
 and good action, you may be an orna- 
 ment to that illustrious family ; and 
 otherwise, through vice and sloth, you 
 shall be counted labes generis, one of the 
 greatest curses that can happen to man. 
 
 Well, my little Philip, this is enough for 
 me, and too much I fear for you. But, 
 if I shall find that this light meal of di- 
 gestion nourish any thing the weak sto- 
 mach of your young capacity, I will, as 
 I find the same grow stronger, feed it 
 with tougher food. 
 
 Your loving father, so long as you live 
 in the fear of Qod, 
 
 H. Sydney." 
 
 At the close of the preceding letter to 
 "little Philip," there is a postscript, iu 
 the same spirit, from the hand of his 
 mother. That the teaching of his excel- 
 lent parents was not lost upon him his 
 life testified; and perhaps the poem 
 below, from his own pen at manhood, 
 may be received as evidence of the good 
 advice he received in his childhood. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October 16.— Day breaks . . 4 49 
 
 Sun rises ... 6 41 
 
 — sets . . . 5 19 
 
 Twilight ends . 7 11 
 
 Late, or October, peaches ripen. 
 
 Farewell to Splendid Follies. 
 
 Leave me, O Love 1 which Teachest but to dust ; 
 And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things, 
 Grow rich in that which never taketh rust ; 
 Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings. 
 
 Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might 
 To that sweet yoke where tasting freedomes be ; 
 Which breakes the clouds, and opens forth the light. 
 That doth but shine and give us sight to see. 
 
 Oh ! take fast hold, let that light be shy guide 
 In this small course whice birth drawes out of death; 
 And thinke how ill becometh him to slide. 
 Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath. 
 
 Then, farewell, world, thine uttermost I see ; 
 Eternal Love ; maintaine thy life in me. 
 
 Sir Philip Sidnetf 
 
1199 
 
 'THE YEAR BOOKL- OCTOBER 16. 
 
 )20C 
 
 PARSONAGE, FOBBING, ESSEX. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 It was towards the close of one o> the 
 brightest and most serene evenings I have 
 ever witnessed in the early part of August, 
 that I reached the quiet parsonage of 
 Fobbing for a brief sojourn. There is 
 something extremely venerable in its 
 aspect, seen in the sober twilight from the 
 garden gate, where I subsequently posted 
 myself to make the sketch which pre- 
 cedes this article. 
 
 The novelty of the place called me up 
 at an early hour on the following morning, 
 fof I literally rose with the sun, and sat 
 for some time enjoying the delitfious fresh- 
 ness of the air at the open window, and 
 listening to the yaried sounds of gratula- 
 tion which welcomed in the day. The 
 harsh and petulent clamor of a number 
 of restless "stares," tenanting the old 
 church tower that stood in substantial 
 grandeur immediately adjoining the 
 front garden, occasionally interposed, 
 afforded a contrast to the mellow tones 
 of the blackbird, rustling in the laurels 
 
 surrounding the lawn, or occasionally ven- 
 turing from its hiding place, to hurry to 
 some other neighbouring seclusion, and 
 sing unseen amongst the fragrance of 
 green leaves, and opening flowers. 
 
 The first faint rays of the sun had no 
 sooner lighted up a corner ot the old 
 barn opposite my window, than the misl 
 which obscured the distance gradually 
 dispersed, and I obtained a prospect, 
 which, though very limited in extent, was 
 not deficient in objects of interest. The 
 rich pasture lands interspersed with farms 
 and other buildings, and varied by clumps 
 of trees, jstretched away towards the river, 
 beyond which the opposite shore rose in 
 beautiful variety. Several vessels were 
 moving onwards in gloomy grandeur, 
 or reflectirtgthe sun-light from their broad 
 sails as they veered about; and at no 
 great distance the neighbouring church of 
 Corringkam lifted its huge wooden spire 
 like a pyramid of fog above the thatched 
 roof of an out-house in the centre of 
 the picture. 
 
1301 
 
 THE YEAR COOK.— OCTOBER 16. 
 
 1202 
 
 On a subsequent visit to this building, 
 I particularly noticed its massy tower, 
 which bears evident traces of extreme 
 antiquity, llie interior presents a very 
 neat appearance, though over the belfry 
 door my eyfe caught a cunning sculpture 
 with something of a Griraaldi cast and 
 coloring about it, and perhaps not alto- 
 gether so " grave and reverend" as good 
 old Herbert could have wished. In pass- 
 ing up the aisle I bestowed a brief atten- 
 tion on the sepulchral brasses of Thomas 
 Atlee, " auottliam tormat-itts istius 
 m^nerii," and Alicia Greyde, who died 
 the 17th May, 1454. Some sculptured 
 tiles on which I could trace no definite 
 figures, and an old stoue with the remains 
 of a Lombardic inscription, inlaid with 
 a brass plate, commemorating " Robert 
 Draper, persone of Coningham, who de- 
 ceased the 18th December, 1595," were 
 the only other remarkables on this part 
 of the church. I transcribed such of the 
 letters as remained of this abused memo- 
 rial, and had little difficulty in supplying 
 the remainder as they are here printed : 
 
 ABELE: BAVD : GIST : ICI,- 
 DIEV: X)E: SA: ALME: EIT: 
 MERCl. 
 
 Within the communion rails there still 
 exists a half length portraiture of one 
 of the former rectors richly apparalled, 
 and like a true priest " all shaven and 
 slioni," — though the puritans have been 
 less merciful to his quondam neighbour, 
 a flaw in the slab that covers his remains 
 being the only intimation that his ashes 
 are there entombed. I should not fail, 
 moreover, to mention, that in one of the 
 windows you may see a dove with an 
 olive leaf in its mouth, and bearing a 
 scroll inscribed with the word loffanntS, 
 a rebus, very probably on the name of 
 somt benefector to the church. 
 
 These details have led me away from 
 ray descant on the gentle scenery, which 
 I was contemplating as I sat recruiting 
 my vest spirit from a two-fold fountain, 
 and enjoying, in the highest sense of that 
 expression, 
 " A gleam of glory after six days' showers." 
 
 — A cool gush of wind strayed 
 through the foliage which fringed my 
 window. I looked on the distant sky, 
 and imagined it to be just " ripe for 
 showering tears." A sound followed like 
 the pattering of rain on some twinkling 
 covert, and I welcomed its kindly pre- 
 sence, but on turning round to greet it. 
 
 saw only the lofty poplars beside me, 
 glancing and fluttering in the clear sun- 
 light as if every leaf were a living thing ; 
 and the grey church tower standing in 
 shadow beyond them.' 
 
 And here it maybe fitting to make fur- 
 ther mention of this same church which 
 stands upon a high hill and is dedicated 
 to St. Michael. There are within it 
 several monumental stones from which 
 the brass inlays have been removed, 
 " either for greediness of the brass, or for 
 that they were thought to be antichristian," 
 and on the north wall of the chancel, the 
 Lombardic inscription here copied :■ — 
 
 POVR ■LAMOVR dc JESV CHRIST 
 
 PBIEZ POVU SA (son ALME q'h;I OlST 
 
 PATEE NOSTEB, ET AVE 
 
 THOMAS DE CRAWEDENE IVT APELLE. 
 
 The window over the altar contains 
 some fragments of stained glass, amongst 
 which I could distinguish a miniature 
 representation of the nativity, and an- 
 other scripture piece too imperfect to 
 enable me to speak decidedly as to its 
 subject. These, and the letters et, the 
 termination probably of some supplica- 
 tory inscription on behalf of the pious 
 decorator of another window on the south 
 side, where they occur, are all that I no- 
 ticed in my search after the antique. 
 
 To return to the parsonage, — "- It hath 
 a faire garden, very sweet and sightly 
 withal, and proper for pleasure or pas- 
 time." Here then you might have seen 
 me, had you been so minded, holding 
 converse with nature for awhile ; and 
 anon efeewhere, but never beyond the 
 pale of happiness, which I hold to be only 
 another name for Fobbing Parsonage. 
 HP. ^. 
 
 SCRAPS. 
 
 ** Unconsidered trifles — 
 
 Merry and tragical, tedious and brief." 
 Shakspeare 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 Ancieiitly at Potton, in Bedfordshirp, 
 the iuool trade was carried on to a con- 
 siderable extent. At that period it was 
 customary to introduce at " sheep-shear- 
 ing," merry-makings, which were then 
 maintained with a spirit honorable to 
 those engaged in thorn. A personation 
 of Saint Blase, the reputed patron of the 
 woolcombers,was attended by various cha- 
 racters in gay attire, who performed a rural 
 
1203 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 16. 
 
 1204 
 
 masque; and there was a kind of morris 
 
 dance, with other ceremonies. 
 
 " O wassel days ! O customs meet and i^ell." 
 
 The " good "bishop" was represented by 
 a stripling, dressed in snowy habiliments 
 of wool, seated on " a milk white steed," 
 with a lamb in his lap, the horse, its rider, 
 ind the little " lambkin," profusely 
 decorated with flowers and rilibons, of all 
 the colors of the rainbow — the latter 
 gaieties being carefully treasured up, and 
 cheerfully presented for the occasion by 
 all who took an interest in its due observ- 
 ance. Imperfect memory cannot supply 
 a minute account of the appearance of 
 the other " worthies," forming this 
 " shearing-show," or " reveV as it was 
 termed ; but that their costumes were as di- 
 versified and sighdy as in the one described 
 above, is* as certain as that they were 
 beheld with admiration by the country- 
 folk — for on the " festive day" 
 
 The neighbouring hamlets hastened here — 
 And all the childhood came, 
 
 the little town presenting an animated 
 appearance for the time being. The 
 " display" has unluckily been long since 
 discontinued. It was, perhaps, the most 
 rural of the many celebrations in honor 
 of the Saint, once common in manufac- 
 turing towns. 
 
 Cherry Pasties — The common black 
 cherry-tree grows wild, plenteously, in 
 several parts of Hertfordshire and Bed- 
 fordshire, of the fruit of which, when ripe, 
 the rustic inhabitants of those districts 
 have from time immemorial been accus- 
 tomed to make " pasties," which are by 
 •them highly esteemed for their delicious 
 flavor ; some even considering them fit 
 To set before a KING. 
 
 Entertainments called "the pasty feasts," 
 in which the above mentioned " niceities" 
 shine conspicuous, are always duly ob- 
 served, and constitute a seasonable attrac- 
 tion " for all ages," but more particularly 
 for the "juveniles, " whose laughter-teem- 
 ing-visages, begrimed with the exuberant 
 juice, present unmistakeable evidence of 
 their " having a finger in the pip." Who 
 can help regretting thai the excellent 
 qualities of " black cherry pasty" should 
 remain " unsaid, unsung 1" They have 
 entirely escaped the notice of the " pro- 
 fessed" writers " on the culinary art," 
 from Mrs. Glasse "of the old school," 
 down to Mrs. Rundell and Dr. Kitchener 
 " of the moderns." 
 
 Garlands. — At the villages in Derby- 
 shire, adjacent to the far-famed " Peak,'' 
 the ancient custom of bearing wreaths or 
 garlands at the funerals of young persons 
 was once prevalent. These wreaths were 
 tastefully composed of slips of writing 
 paper, ingeniously interwoven together to 
 resemble white roses ; and were borne by 
 the cherub-cheeked village children, walk- 
 ing " slow through the church-way path." 
 It was also customary to suspend a wreath 
 of this kind in the churches, over the pews 
 of unmarried villagers who died in their 
 youth. Miss Anne Seward (I think) 
 mentions this usage as existing in her 
 native village of Eyam, in her time ; but 
 now it is a fact sincerely to be lamented, 
 that these " observances" of the " olden 
 time" are every day more and more 
 growing into disuse, for the lack of some 
 congenial mind, with taste sufficient to 
 resuscitate them from neglect. 
 
 Roses. — In the church-yard at Barnes 
 in Surrey, near to the entrance door of 
 the church, is an old mural stone with an 
 inscription to the memory of Edward 
 Rose, citizen of London, who died in the 
 seventeenth century, and bequeathed the 
 sum of £20 annually to that parish for 
 ever, on condition that the railing enclos- 
 ing his grave should be maintained, and 
 >'ose-trees planted and preserved there in 
 a flourishing state. The terms of this 
 eccentric benefaction are very properly 
 complied with. Seveial rose-trees are 
 carefully trained around the monumental 
 tablet ; the grave itself is kept in admira- 
 ble order, and the neat wooden fence in 
 front of it is repaired and painted when- 
 ever necessary. ,[^Mem. The church of 
 Barnes, an antique structure, has had, its 
 interior modernized by the despoilers, 
 misnomered "beautifiers;" and the wicket 
 leading into the picturesque little: church- 
 yard is "locked;" so that the " musing 
 pedestrian" cannot enter without first 
 applying to "theiwoman that keeps the 
 key," an iutelligent ancient dame, very 
 communicative as to particulars.] 
 
 Punning Ifotice. — ^The. following an- 
 nouncement appears on an old barn-like- 
 building in the pleasant lane leading from 
 Hampstead church-yard to Kilburn, Mid- 
 dlesex . — 
 
 " Horses taken into the straw-yaxi and 
 fed upon hat/." 
 
 Lee, in Kent. — In the church-yard at 
 Lee, a pleasant village on the south side 
 of Blackheath, an old monumental stone 
 (probably displaced from the ancient 
 
1205 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 17, 18. 
 
 1£0« 
 
 church which was standing within recol- 
 lection) lies neglected in an obscure 
 corner ; on it is inscribed the following 
 quaint lines : — 
 
 *' Come gentle Reader you shall know what is 
 Beneath this stone, HERB's natures rarities — 
 (Grand-Parents ioy ; The ANGells charge 
 
 (to kcepe) 
 The saint's companion. But now laid to sleepe 
 in a cold bed of clay (prepared by death) 
 Till GOD restore to him An Heavenly breath 
 NOT, ten yearcs old (so young he was) and 
 
 yet 
 Pregnant in learning, memory Retent, 
 So DOOible that few so Excellent. 
 Should I say All (was truly good) in him 
 1 should come shorte in hymning forth this 
 
 stem 
 Nor would this stone conteyut, tlierefore no 
 
 more ^^ 
 
 So greene a roote more ripened frnite ncta 
 
 bore 
 Now if yould know who *tis deserucs this 
 
 praise 
 Keade the next lines 4nd'8 name and vertues 
 Raise." 
 
 " Here lyes Thomas Garnet, eldest Sonne 
 of Kathirine, the wife of William Garnet, 
 of Lond : gent., one of the daughters of 
 Thomas Foxall by Elizabeth his wife, late of 
 
 this parrish. He departed this life the 
 
 day of December 1648, being not fully ten 
 years of age and his grandmother Elizabeth 
 before named (• illegiUe) in her love to him 
 and for the imitation of his vertues in others 
 cavsed this inscription." 
 
 Buckeslon^s Pound. — at Bedford, may 
 be seen an antique window of the pointed 
 form, probably part of some ecclesiastical 
 edifice ; it graces the time-worn front of 
 a little inn in an obscure part of the town, 
 but, as little attention appears to have 
 been paid to it, it is now in a mutilated 
 state ; it however retains the remains of 
 same curious tracery, and the following 
 inscriptive memorial, which is engraven 
 deep on its massive stone sill : — 
 " Mary Wryte and her mother 
 Her father ande brother — 
 Was Alle of them drowned. 
 Inn Bvckstones povnde. 
 6 Febrry : An. Dm. (d^e of the gear illegible.') 
 
 O OODD 
 
 IN. MERCTE. THER 
 
 SOVLES 
 
 PBAYE. ta.ke=;to. HEVENYS, 
 
 FOR THYE DEARE SONNe's 
 
 lESUS's SAKE- 
 
 How long this " rels&e" has been in 
 its present situation, and from whence it 
 came, I know not. 
 
 IB. m- ^. 
 
 Auguat 1831. 
 
 ®ctotev 17, 
 
 Fox hunting begins to take place re- 
 gularly on the 17th of October. 
 
 The Hunter's Song. 
 
 Give me the naked heavens above. 
 
 The broad bare heath below, 
 A merry glance from her I love. 
 
 My fleet hound and my bow, 
 I crave no red gold for my pouch. 
 
 No wine-cup mantling high. 
 Nor broidered vest ; nor downy couch. 
 
 On which the care-worn sigh : 
 With conscience clear, and stedfast min<* 
 My cares f whistle to the wind. 
 
 If I am hungry, I can wing 
 
 The wild bird as he flies ; 
 Or thirsty, yonder crystal spring 
 
 My sparkling draught supplies. 
 The dear must yield l^is dappled coat 
 
 My vigorous limbs to don ; 
 The heron his dark plume to float 
 
 My fearless brows upon. 
 I am content — canst thou say more. 
 With pride^ and pomp, and treasured store ? 
 Fireride Booh, 
 
 
 h. m. 1 
 
 October 17. — Daybreaks . 
 
 . 4 51 i 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 6 43 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 5 17 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 7 9 
 
 tSittotn 18. 
 
 18 October 1564, captain, afterwardi 
 sir John Hawkins, the first Englishman 
 that gave countenance to the slave trade, 
 sailed from Plymouth, his native place, 
 for Cape Vcrd, on the coast of Africa ; 
 being the first ostensible voyage in that 
 most iniquitous commerce. The negroes 
 were sold to the Spaniards in Hispaniola, 
 in the West Indies.* According to An- 
 derson it was in 1562, two years earlier 
 that, "Assisted by the subscriptions of 
 several gentlemen he (Havvkins) fitted 
 out three ships, the largest being 120 tons, 
 and the smallest but forty tons burthen ; 
 and having heard that negroes were a 
 very good commodity in Hispaniola, he 
 sailed to the coast of Guinea, and took in 
 negroes, and sailed with them for Hispa- 
 niola, where he sold his negroes — return- 
 ing in the year 1563, after making a 
 
 * Butler'li Chronological Excrciseg, 
 
1207 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— OCTOBER 19. 
 
 1208 
 
 prosperous voyage. This," says Anderson, 
 " seems to have been the very first at- 
 tempt from England for any negro-trade." 
 Upon this adventure. Hill says, in his 
 naval history, " Here began the horrid 
 practice of forcing the Africans into sla- 
 very : an injustice and barbarity vfhich, 
 so sure as there is vengeance in heaven 
 for the worst of crimes, will some time 
 be the destruction of all who encourage 
 it."* 
 
 Vigorous efforts are in progress on the 
 part of the legislature and numerous in- 
 dividuals to redeem our country from the 
 nation-sinking sin of a trade in human 
 beings, which has worked evil in the end 
 to our slave-populated colonies, by en- 
 tailing upon slave-proprietors and the 
 owners of West India property embar- 
 rassment and ruin. Our hearts are cheered 
 by the knowledge that later navigators, 
 and adventurers, have speculated in un- 
 furling the flag of peace and good will to 
 the ignorant natives of other climes. 
 
 Below are some exquisite verses by 
 Andrew Marvell, " supposed to be sung 
 by a party of those volunteers for con- 
 science sake, who, in a profligate age, left 
 their country to enjoy religious freedom in 
 regions beyond the Atlantic; the scene 
 is laid near the Bermudas, or Summer 
 Islands, as they were then called," where 
 Berkeley, the good bishop of Cloyne, 
 proposed to found a university of h i- 
 manity. 
 
 The Emigrants. 
 "Where the remote Bermudas ride 
 In ocean's bosom unespy'd, 
 From a small boat that rowM along. 
 The listening winds received tbis song. 
 
 *' What should we do but smg his praise. 
 That led us through the watery maze. 
 Unto an Isle so long unknown. 
 And yet far kinder than our own. 
 
 " Where He the huge sea-monsters racks, 
 That lift the deep upon their backs ; 
 He lands us on a grassy stage. 
 Safe from the storms and prelates' rage. 
 
 '' He gives us this eternal spring, 
 Which here enamels every thing ; 
 And sends the fowls to xis, in care. 
 On daily visits through the air. 
 
 " He hangs in shades the orange bright, 
 IJike golden lamps in a green night. 
 And does in the pomegranate cl< se 
 Jewels more rich thnn Ormus sliows. 
 
 * Hist, of Commerce, li. 117. 
 
 " He .makes the figs our mouths to meet. 
 And throws the melons at our feet ; 
 With cedars chosen by his banc. 
 From Lebanon, He stor^ the land. 
 
 " He cast — of which we rather boast — 
 The Gospel's pearl, upon our coast. 
 And, in these rocks, for us did frame 
 4 temple, where to sound his name. 
 
 '* Oh ! let our voice his praisfe exalt. 
 Till it arrive at heaven's vault. 
 Which, thence perhaps rebounding, may 
 Echo beyond the Mexique Bay." 
 
 Thus sang they in the English boat. 
 An holy and a cheerful note j 
 And all the way, to guide their chime. 
 With falling oari they kept the time. 
 
 It is due to Mr. Montgomery lo add 
 that the preceding poem aptly occurred 
 to recollection by sei-in^ them in his 
 "Christian Poet," a four shilling house- 
 hold book of beautiful verse. 
 
 October 18. — Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 
 — sets . 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 
 4 53 
 
 6 45 
 
 5 15 
 
 7 7 
 
 Rough agaric springs at roots of trees. 
 
 <Bt\obtv 19. 
 
 19 October, 1645, the Scots took New- 
 castle by storm. The town was held by 
 the royalists for Charles I. After a siege 
 of ten weeks, Leven the Scottish general 
 began a furious cannonade from his 
 several batteries against the town wall. 
 About three o'clock in the afternoon the 
 garrison, by countermines, had nearly ap- 
 proached two of his mines for blowing 
 up the walls, which being signified to 
 Leven, he ordered these two mines, to be 
 fired. About nightfall breaches being 
 made, though not so large and passable 
 as was needful, the rest of the mines 
 were exploded, the Scottish regiments 
 advanced all at once to the assault, and, 
 after two hours' desperate fighting upon 
 the breaches, they forced their first entry 
 at the mine sprung on the west side of 
 the town, near to Close-gate. The ca- 
 valry of the garrison repulsed them with 
 three brave charges, till the Scottish re- 
 serve came up, when the garrison, seeing 
 farther resistance vaiti, forsook the walls ; 
 and the assailants became masters of the 
 town. The mayor sir John Marley, with 
 others, who had been most resolute in 
 
1209 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 20 
 
 1210 
 
 holding out, betook themselves to the 
 castle, and general Leven went to church 
 with his chief officers to return- thanks 
 for their success. The next day sir John 
 Marley, wrote a spirited letter to general 
 Leven, requesting liberty to withdraw to 
 some neighbouring garrison of the king. 
 Leven insisted upon a general svirrender, 
 and on the day following sir John Marley, 
 with his associates, yielded themselves 
 prisoners to the Scottish army, but were 
 in danger of being torn in pieces by the 
 mob. The Scots, after the capture, are 
 said to have rifled the town's hutch, and 
 destroyed most of the evidences and 
 deeds belonging to the corporation. There 
 is a tradition, that, during the siege, the 
 Scottish general threatened the mayor, 
 that, if the town was not delivered up, 
 the besiegers would direct their cannon 
 so as to demolish the beautiful steeple of 
 St. Nicholas. The mayor instantly or- 
 dered the chief of the Scottish prisoners 
 to be taken to the top of the Tower, 
 below the . lantern, and returned for 
 answer, that if the structure fell it should 
 not fall alone, as their countrymen were 
 placed in it with a view either to pre- 
 serve it from ruin or be destroyed with 
 it; this saved the edifice. But St. An- 
 drews church received so much damage, 
 that we find by the parish register : "1 645. 
 Ther was no child baptized in this parish 
 for 1 year's tim after the town was taken, 
 nor sarmon in this church for one year's 
 tim."* 
 
 h. m. 
 October 1 9. — Day breaks - . . 4 54 
 Sun rises ... 6 47 
 — sets ... 5 13 
 Twilight ends . 7 6 
 Beech leaves change to purplish-brown ; 
 elm leaves to yellow, and are fast falling ; 
 lime lea es nearly all fallen. 
 
 il^ctottet 20, 
 
 20th October, 1093, Malcolm III. king 
 of Scotland was treacherously killed at 
 Alnwick castle in Northumberland. The 
 forces of William Rufiis king of England 
 had taken the castle from the Scots and 
 put all within it to the sword. Upon 
 which, Hollingshedsays, "King Malcome, 
 to withstand such exploits attempted by 
 his enemy, levied a great host of his 
 subjects, and, coming with the same into 
 
 * Sykes's Local Records of Newcastle^ &c. 
 
 Northumberland, besieged the said castle 
 of Alnwick : and, now when the keepers 
 of the hold were at point to have made 
 surrender, a certain English knight, con- 
 ceiving in his mind a hardy and danger- 
 ous enterprise, mounted on a swift horse 
 without armour or weapon, saving a spear 
 in hi? hand, upon the point of which 
 he bore the keys of the castle, and so 
 issued forth of the gates, riding directly 
 towards the Scottish camp. 'They that 
 warded, mistrusting no harm, brought him 
 with great noise and clamor unto the 
 king's tent, who hearing the noise came 
 forth of his pavilion lb understand what 
 the matter meant. The Englishman here- 
 with couched his staff, as though it had 
 been to the end that the king might re- 
 ceive the keys which he had brought ; 
 and whilst all men's eyes were earnest in 
 beholding the keys, the Englishman ran 
 the king through the left eye, and, sud- 
 denly dashing his spurs to his horse, 
 escaped to the next wood out of all 
 danger. The point of the spear entered 
 so far into the king's head that imme- 
 diately falling down amongst his men he 
 yielded up the ghost. This was the end 
 of king Malcolm in the midst of his 
 army." The death of the king occa- 
 sioned the Scots to raise the siege. They 
 buried him in the abbey of Tynemouth, 
 but afterwards disinterred the body, and 
 reburied it at Dumfernline, before the 
 altar of the Trinity. Edward his eldest 
 son also perished at Alnwick. 
 
 According to Hollingshed, the knight 
 by whose hand Malcolm fell obtained the 
 name of Percy. "It is said that king 
 William changed the name of this ad- 
 venturous knight and called him Pers E ; 
 and, for that he struck king Malcolm so 
 right in the eye, and in recompense of 
 his service, gave him certain lands in 
 Northumberland, of whom these Percecs 
 are descended, which in our days have 
 enjoyed the honorable title of earls of 
 Northumberland." Unfortunately for the 
 credit of Hollingshed's story, his anno- 
 tator prints in the margin " The name of 
 the Percees had no such beginning, for 
 they came forth of Normandy at the con- 
 quest." In the Harleian collection there 
 is a MS. memoir of the Percy family 
 entitled " Ex llegistro Monasterij de 
 Whitbye,'' which corroborates the note 
 uron Hollingshed. The MS. begins with 
 " William Lord Percye the first founder 
 
lill 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBEll 20. 
 
 !:al« 
 
 of Whitbye," and slates that he married 
 " Emme of the Porte ; which Em me 
 fyrst was lady of Semer besides Skar- 
 burgh upon the conquest;" and further 
 that these possessions with other lands 
 William the conqueror bestowed upon 
 this Percy " for his good service," and 
 that Percy wedded Emrae of the Porte, 
 "that was very heire to them," in dis- 
 charging of his conscience. " Of this mar- 
 riage was Alayne Percy who " by Emma of 
 Gawnte his wife " hadthe second William 
 lord Percy who married " Aliza that lyeth 
 «t Whitbye."* 
 
 Bolton Abbey, Yorkshire. 
 
 Under the Saxon dynasty, Bolton had 
 been the seat of earl Edwin's barony. In 
 the twelfth century, Aaliza, the grand-! 
 daughter of Robert de Romillfe, heiress 
 Qf the castle and honor of Skipton, mar- 
 ried William Fitz-Duncan, a chief, who, 
 after laying waste Craven by fire and 
 sword, had been established there by his 
 uncle, David, king of Scotland. Aaliza 
 parted with this property to the canons 
 of Embsay, and on the site of an ancient 
 Saxon Church, in one of the most ro- 
 mantic situations in Craven, they built 
 the beautiful structure of Bolton Priory. 
 
 Dr. Whitsdcer, in his History of Craven, 
 mentions a tragical event, assigned by 
 tradition as the cause for lady Aaliza 
 having parted with Bolton. — 
 
 In the deep solitude of .the woods be- 
 twixt Bolton and Barden, the Wharf 
 suddenly contracts itself to a rocky chan- 
 nel, little more than four feet wide, and 
 pours through the tremendous fissure with 
 a rapidity proportioned to its confinement. 
 This place was then, as it is yet, called 
 the Siiid, from a feat often exercised by 
 persons of more agility than prudence, 
 who s'.ride from brink to brink, regardless 
 of the destruction which awaits a faltering 
 step. Such, according to tradition, was 
 the fate of young Romille, who inconsider- 
 ately bounding over the chasm with a grey- 
 hound in his leash, the animal hung back, 
 and drew his unfortunate master into the 
 torrent. The forester who accompanied 
 Romillfe, and beheld his fate, returned to 
 the lady Aaliza, and, with despair in his 
 countenance, inquired, " What is good 
 for a bootless bene?" To which the 
 mother, apprehending that some great 
 
 ' Antiquarian Rupertory, iv. 4. 
 
 calamity had befallen her son, instantly 
 replied,' " Endless sorrow." 
 
 The language of this question, almost 
 unintelligible at present, proves the an- 
 tiquity of the story, which nearly amounts 
 to proving its truth. But " bootless been" 
 is unavailing prayer; and the meaning, 
 though imperfectly expressed, seems to 
 have been, " What remains when prayer 
 is useless?" 
 
 This misfortune is said to have occa- 
 sioned the translation of the priory from 
 Embsay to Bolton, which was the nearest 
 eligible site to the place where it happen- 
 ed. The lady was now in a proper situ- 
 ation of mind to take any impression 
 from her spiritual comfoitera. The views 
 of the parties were different ; they spoke, 
 no doubt, and she thought, of proximity 
 to the scene ofher son's death; but it 
 was the fields and woods of Bolton for 
 which they secretly languished. 
 
 Although there is reason for supposing 
 that' this tradition may refer to one of the 
 sons of Cecilia de RomiUfe, th^ first found- 
 ress, ar^d not Aaliza de Romillfe, yet Dr. 
 Whitaker is without doubt that the story is 
 true in the main, " This singular occur- 
 rence," says Dr. Drake, " which, whether 
 it apply to Cecilia, or Aa:liza, Romillfe, is 
 of, little consequence in a poetical point 
 of ifiew, has furnished more than one of 
 our living bards with a theme for his 
 muse. 1 annex the lines of Mr- Kogeis."— 
 
 The Boy of Egremond. 
 
 " Say, YihiX remains -when Lope is fled V* 
 She ans>ver*d, '* Endless weeping !" 
 for in the herdsman's eye she read 
 Who in his shroud lay sleeping. 
 
 At Embsay rung the matin-bell, 
 The stag was roused on Badden-felt ; 
 The mingled sounds were swelling, dying. 
 And down the Wharfe a hem was flying : 
 When, near the cabin in the wood, 
 In tartan clad, and forest-green, 
 With hound in leash, and hawk in hood. 
 The boy of Egreroond was seen. 
 Blithe was his song — a song of yore ; 
 But where the rock is rem in two. 
 And the river rushes through. 
 His voice was heard no mo^c ! 
 'Twas but a step ! the gulf he pass'd ; 
 But that step — it was his last ! 
 As through the mist he winged his way 
 (A cloud that hovers night and day) 
 The hound hung back, and back be drew 
 The master and his merlin too. 
 That narrow place of noise and strife 
 Received .heir little all of life ! 
 
 There now the matin -bell is rung | 
 The " Miserere !" duly sung ; 
 
1213 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 81, 22. 
 
 J214 
 
 And holy men, i". cowl and hood. 
 
 Are wandering up and down the wood. 
 
 Bttt what avail they 1 Ruthless lord. 
 
 Thou didst not shudder when the sword 
 
 Here on the young its fury spent. 
 
 The helpless and the innocent. 
 
 Sit now, and answer groan for groan ; 
 
 The child before thee is thy own ; 
 
 And she who wildly wanders there. 
 
 The mother, in her long despair, 
 
 Shall oft remind thee, waking, sleeping. 
 
 Of those who by the Wharfe were weeping ; 
 
 Of those who would not be consoled 
 
 When red with blood the river roll'd. 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October 20.— Day breaks . . 
 
 . 4 56 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 , e 49 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 . 5 11 
 
 Twilight ends , 
 
 , 7 4 
 
 ©(toBer 21. 
 
 
 21st October, 1784, died M Calmer, 
 one of the richest Jews in France. • Al- 
 though he had never abjured the religion 
 of Hoses, he neglected its rites, and his 
 daughter was married to a christian of 
 distinction. He purchased the duchy of 
 Chanlnes, by which he obtained the jpre- 
 sentation to several livings in Picardy. 
 The bishop of Amiens maintained that 
 Calmer, being a Jew, could not exercise 
 the right of presentation belonging to 
 the duchy. An action ensued in which 
 the bishop was nonsuitted.* 
 
 The Wakdebing Jew. 
 
 Matthew Paris relates a story which 
 obtained full credit before the year 1228. 
 He circumstantially reports that in that year 
 came an Armenian archbishop into Eng- 
 land to visit the shrines and reliques pre- 
 served m onr churches ; and that, being 
 entertained at the monastery of St. Albans, 
 he was asked several questionsrelating to 
 his travels and his country. Among the 
 rest, a monk who sat near him enquired 
 " if he had ever seen or heard of the 
 famous person named Joseph, who was 
 present at. our Lord's crucifixion, and 
 conversed with him, and who was still 
 alire in confirmation of the Christian 
 faith." The archbishop answered that 
 the fact was true ; and afterwards one of 
 his train, interpreting his master's words, 
 told them in French, that his lord knew 
 the person they spoke of very well ;. that 
 
 * History of Paris, iii, 266. 
 
 he dined at his table but a little while 
 before he left the east; that he had been 
 Pontius Pilate's porter, and was then 
 named Cartaphilus ; and that when the 
 Jews were dragging Jesus out of the door of 
 the judgment hall, this Cartaphilus struck 
 him with his fist on the back, saying, 
 " Go faster Jesus, go faster — why dost 
 thou linger:" upon which Jesus looked 
 at him with a frown, and said ; " I, indeed, 
 am going; but thou shalt tarry till I 
 come." Soon afterwards he was convert- 
 ed, and baptized by the name of Joseph. 
 He lives for ever, but at the end of every 
 hundred years falls into an incurable 
 illness, and, at length, into a fit of ecstacy, 
 out of which, when he recovers, he re- 
 turns to the same state of youth he was in 
 when Jesus suffered, being then about 
 thirty years of age. He remembers all 
 the circumstances of the death and resur- 
 rection of Christ, the saints that rose with 
 him, the composing of the Apostles' 
 creed, their preaching, and dispersion ; 
 and is himself a very grave and holy 
 person. This is the substance of Mat- 
 thew Paris's account, who was himself a 
 monk of St. Alban's, and was living at 
 the time when this Armenian archbishop 
 made the above relation. Since then 
 several impostors have appeared at inter- 
 vals, under the name and character of the 
 " Wandering Jew." Mr. Brand says, " I 
 remember to have seen one of these im- 
 postors some years ago in the north of 
 England, who made a very hermit-like 
 appearance, and went up and down the 
 streets of Newcastle with a long train of 
 boys at his he^ls, muttering ' Poor John 
 alone, alone ! poor John alone !' other- 
 wise, ' Poor Jew alone.' I thought he 
 pronounced his name in a manner singu- 
 larly plaintive." He adds that sir Wil- 
 liam Musgravc had a portrait of this man 
 inscribed " Poor Joe alone !" 
 
 October 21. — Day oreaics . . 
 Sun rises . . . 
 — sets . . , 
 Twilight ends 
 Swan's egg pears gathered. 
 
 h. 
 
 4 
 , 6 
 . 5 
 
 . r 
 
 m. 
 
 57 
 
 51 
 
 9 
 
 3 
 
 a^ctottv 22. 
 
 
 Hypochondria. 
 Under this date, in Dr. Forster 
 
 'sPe- 
 
 rennial Calendar, there is a continuation 
 
1215 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 22. 
 
 12tC 
 
 of some.previous renjaAs upon hypochon- 
 dria whence is derived the subjoined 
 
 Extract. 
 
 The spectra seen in hypochondriasis, 
 and the gorgeous sCenery of dreams 
 under such stales of excitement, serve to 
 confirm the now received axiom in phy- 
 siology, that it is not external objects in 
 general that the mind actually views, but 
 their forms exhibited on the sensorium; 
 for cerebral action will sometimes takes 
 place spontaneously and produce visions. 
 We quigte the following from a modern 
 writer : — 
 
 "I know not whether my reader is 
 aware that many children, perhaps most, 
 have a power of painting, as it were, upon 
 the darkness, all sorts of phantoms ; itj 
 some that power is simply a mechanic 
 affection of the eye ; others have a volun- 
 tary, or a semivoluntary power to dismiss 
 or to summon them ; or, as a child once 
 said to me when I questioned him on this 
 matter, ' I can tell them to go, and they 
 go; but sometimes they come when I 
 don't tell them to come.' ... At 
 night, when I lay awake in bed, vast 
 processions passed along in mournful 
 pomp; friezes of never-ending stories, 
 that to my feelings were as sad and solemn 
 as if they were stories drawn from times 
 before Oedipus or Priam, before Tyre, 
 before Memphis, and, at the same time, a 
 corresponding change took place in my 
 dreams; a theatre seemed suddenly 
 opened and lighted up within my brain, 
 which presented nightly spectacles of 
 more than earthly splendor. And the 
 four following facts may be mentioned, 
 as noticeable at this time :— that, as the 
 creative state of the eye increased, a sym- 
 pathy seemed to arise between the waking 
 and the dreaming states of the brain in 
 one point, that 'whatsoever I happened to 
 call up and to trace by a voluntary act 
 upon the darkness, was very apt to 
 transfer itself to my dreams; so that I 
 feared to. exercise this faculty — for, as 
 Midas turned all things to gold that yet 
 baffled his hopes and defrauded his 
 human desires, so, whatsoever things o- 
 pable of being visually represented I did 
 but think of in the darkness, immediately 
 shaped themselves into phantoms of the 
 eye ; and, by a process apparently no less 
 inevitable when thus once traced in faint 
 and visionary colors, like writings in sym- 
 pathetic ink, they were drawn out I y tne 
 fierce chemistry of my dreams iito in- 
 
 sufferable splendor (hat fretted my heart., 
 For this, and all other changes in my 
 dreams, were accompanied by deep-seated 
 anxiety and gloomy .melancholy, such aa 
 are wholly incominunicablc by words. I 
 seemed every night to descend, not meta- 
 phorically, but literally to descend, into 
 chasms and sUnless abysses, depths, below 
 depths, from which it seemed hopeless 
 that I could ever re-ascend. : Nor did I, 
 by waking, feel that I had re-ascen,(}edj 
 This I do not dwell upon, because.the 
 state of gloom which attended. these. gor- 
 geous spectacles, amounting at least to 
 utter darkness, as of some suicidical de- 
 spondency, cannot be approached by 
 words. . The sense of space, and,' in the 
 end, the sense of time, were both power- 
 fully affected. Buildings and landscapes 
 were exhibited in proportions so vast as 
 the bodily eye is not fitted to receive; space 
 sweUed, and was amplified to an extent 
 of unutterable infinity. This, however, 
 did not disturb me so much as the vast 
 expansion of time ; I sometimes seemed 
 to have lived for 70 or 100 years in one 
 night; nay, sometimes had feelings repre- 
 sentative of a milleniuno passed in thd 
 time, or, howeveir, of a duration far ba^' 
 yond the limits of any human experience, 
 The minutest incidents of childhpod, or 
 forgotten scenes of later years, were often 
 revived ; I could not be said to recpUpc t 
 them, for if I had Veen told of them whfiri ' 
 waking, I should not have been able to 
 acknowledge them as parts of my past 
 experience : but placed as they were 
 before me, in dreams like intuitions, and 
 clothed in all their evanescent circum- 
 stances and accompanying feelings, I re- 
 cognised them instantaneously. — I was 
 once told by a near relaticin of thine, thaj 
 having in her childhood fallen into a 
 river, and being on the very verge of 
 death but for the critical assistance which 
 reached her, she saw in a moment her 
 whole life, in its miiratest incidents, 
 arrayed before her simultaneously, as in a 
 mirror, and she had a faculty, developed 
 as suddenly, for comprehending the whole 
 and every part. This, from some expe- 
 riences of mine, I can believe," 
 
 October 22. — Day breaks . 
 Sun rises . . 
 — sets i , 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 
 4 59 
 6 53 
 
 5 7 
 
 r 1 
 
121T 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 22. 
 
 1218 
 
 Voi» 1.— 39. 
 
1219 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 22. 
 
 1220 
 
 The preceding engraving is from an 
 etching 10 inches high, and 17 inches 
 wide, '* D. Allan inv. et aq. for. fecit, 
 1 787," obligingly transmitted from Scot- 
 land for the present purpose, with the 
 following letter, and the accompanying 
 particulars : their insertion has been post- 
 poned till now, under the hope of further, 
 communications. 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 April 1831, 
 
 SiK, — I am not aware that in any of 
 your various publications notice is taken 
 of the General Assembly of the church 
 of Scotland; should the subjoined account 
 meet with your approbation it is much at 
 your service. 
 
 I am. Sir, 
 
 Your well wisher, 
 MiNA Hill Row. 
 
 The General Assembly is the highest 
 court in the church of Scotland. Tt is a 
 representative body consisting of min- 
 isters and of elders, whose office bears a 
 considerable resemblance to that of church- 
 wardens in England, in the following 
 proportions : — 
 
 200 Ministers, representing seventy- 
 jight Presbyteries. 
 
 89 Elders representing Presbyteries. 
 
 67 Elders representing Royal Burghs. 
 5- Ministers, or Elders, representing 
 Jniversities. 
 
 The business of the assembly is to 
 iecide all appeals and references in cases 
 lom inferior courts, as well as to enact gen- 
 ral laws in regard to the internal adminis- 
 ration of the church, with the consent of 
 
 majority of presbyteries. 
 
 The general assembly meets annually on 
 he 25th of May, at Edinburgh. It is 
 onored with the presence of a repre- 
 entative of the sovereign in the person of a 
 Scottish peer, with the title of His Grace 
 ^ord High Commissioner, but he has no 
 'Ote nor takes any part in the proceedings. 
 
 On the evening previous to the day of 
 neeting he holds a levee, when the ma- 
 jistrates are introduced ; the Lord Provost 
 nakes a complimentary address, and pre- 
 ■ents the silver keys of the city to him. 
 The present LoitI High Commissioner is 
 lames Lord Fobres. 
 
 During the ten days of the assembly's 
 sitting the commissioner holds daily levees 
 and public entertainments, which are at- 
 tended by the members of assembly and 
 the leading nobility and gentry in the city 
 and neighbourhood. On the day ap- 
 pointed for the meeting he walks in state 
 
 to the high church, attended by the no- 
 bility, magistrates, and gentry, with his 
 personal attendants, and a military guard 
 of honor, where a sermon is preached by 
 the moderator (or speaker) of the last 
 assembly ; after which his grace proceeds 
 to the assembly house, which is an aisle of 
 the church, where a throne is prepared for 
 his reception. The moderator then opens 
 the meeting with prayer, the roll of the 
 new assembly is read, and a minister from 
 that roll is appointed moderator. The 
 royal commission is then delivered to the 
 assembly from the throne by the nobleman 
 who bears it, accompanied by a letter 
 froin the sovereign, which having been 
 respectfully read and recorded, the com- 
 missioner addresses the assembly in a 
 speech from the throne, to which a suit- 
 able reply is made by the moderator, and 
 a committee is appointed to prepare an 
 answer to the king's letter. These and 
 other preliminary proceedings being fin- 
 ished, the assembly proceeds to the trans- 
 action of its legislative and judicial bu- 
 siness, in discussing which it has adopted 
 some of the forms which are established 
 in parliament, and other great assemblies, • 
 for the preservation of order and decorum. 
 In the case of a division the sense of the 
 house is collected, by the names on the 
 roll being called by one of the clerks, and 
 the votes being marked by the principal 
 clerk, under the eye of the moderator. 
 
 On the tenth day of its sitting, the 
 assembly is closed by an address from the 
 moderator, followed by prayer and singing. 
 It is then dissolved, first by the moderator, 
 who, in the name of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ as the head and king* of his church, 
 appoints another assembly to be held on 
 a certain day in the monjh of May the 
 year following; and then by the Lord 
 High Commissioner, who in his majesty's 
 name appoints another assembly to be held 
 on the day mentioned by the moderator. 
 
 As the General Assembly is the only 
 great deliberative body which now meets 
 in Scotland, and its proceedings often give 
 rise to animated and even brilliant debates, 
 its meeting is generally regarded with a 
 great, and of late years an increasing, 
 degree of interest in the northern metrop- 
 olis, and over the country P. 
 
 A PunY Epistle to Kirk of Scotland : 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 SomervUie, 26th May, 1830. 
 Dear Jiirk, — Agreeably to my pro- 
 mise, made to give you an account of my 
 
1221 
 
 TPIE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 22. 
 
 1222 
 
 late visit, last W/Ulsonda.y, to my friend 
 Mr. Hendry Constable, Baillie of Lands- 
 borough, of whicli, by the bye, 1 have had 
 the honojir of being made a Burgess and 
 GuiWbrother, I now sit down to give 
 you a short detail of my journey, and of 
 which I Begg you will Grant me the 
 favor of your perusal, and Hope it may 
 amuse, and you 11 Kenn-e-dy more about it. 
 
 Having made my arrangements the pre- 
 vious evening, I started at the Grey of the 
 morning ; (I wish to Findtater hours to 
 rise at), and although it threatened to be 
 Rennie, it turned out only Sommei-s 
 showers. After passing Alton, the name 
 of which I have forgot, and where I was 
 sadly Bisset with Biggars, one of whom, 
 of the clan Gregor, with a Brown hat, 
 and very few Clasoi, holding out a Prim- 
 rose in his hand, said (to Currie favor 
 with me)" Smeliie tat ;" and throughJEosfon, 
 where a Frenchman, inquiring the time of 
 day, asked me if it was yet Denoon ? and 
 Middleton ? At this latter place I was 
 amused in hearing a recruiting Serjeant 
 haranging a crowd, and bawling out Xts- 
 ton my lads ! lAston ! Not being very 
 well acquainted with the remainder of the 
 road, I inquired of a Shepherd, and no 
 Manson could be more civil ; he directed 
 me to go by the Bumside, turn round by 
 the end of a Milne, {Adam Sivewright is 
 the Miller), then to cross the Ferric, 
 which would lead me to a Muii; on the 
 other side of which was a Glen or Shaw, 
 where I would find a Winehouse, at the 
 sign of the Reid Lyon, kept by Curdie 
 Lamb, and there get farther information. 
 
 Being an excellent Walker I set out 
 with vigour, although I had previously 
 climbed a high Hill, and from whence I 
 had a fine view, of Colville and Melville 
 on the Lee side, and passed a Cunningham 
 lass on a Carr, carrying a Wemyss, almost 
 Stark naked, in her arms. Having arrived 
 at the Muirhead, I observed several Cairns 
 at the side of a \^ood, which a Black 
 Smith with a While Baird, who was 
 Brunton the hand, and firing a Canaan, 
 told me were frequented by a .Bogle, and 
 made people as frightened as Duncan in 
 Macbeath. 
 
 By the time I came to the hostelfie, I 
 found, from my long walk, my bones 
 Aitken. It is pleasantly situated by the 
 side of a Burn, at the bottom of a Craig 
 of Alpine height, and had a Kidd browsing 
 on it; a. Bower of Koses (with a Goldie 
 chiruping in it,) made by a Gardiner, and 
 a sweet fragrance of Flowerdew ; a bowling 
 
 Green in front, and in view of Lochore, 
 and a ^mn on it. I resolved to dine 
 there, and, upon knocking at the door, 
 some one called out, " Cumming ;" upon 
 entering and going into the Spence, I in- 
 quired at the Cook, who was sitting at the 
 Inglis side, what I could have for dinner; 
 when she told me that the landlord was 
 not at Home, and the only thing she could 
 give me was a Cock, which I might have 
 done on the Brander ; but this, I con- 
 sidered, would be too Tough for me, so 
 would not Touch a Tait o't. My appe- 
 tite by this time beginning to Craik and 
 Cron, I rung the Barr Bell, on which 
 the landlord — who had been calling on 
 the Laird concerning Humphry Cooper, 
 the Glover, having been fighting with 
 a Taylor, a Souter, and a Baxter, about a 
 Gunn — made his appearance, and, upon 
 stating my wish to him, he told me to 
 " Boyd till I see, and I'll Mc 'All right 
 to ye ;" and on his return said, that I had 
 had a Story put upon me, for that I could 
 have a steak off a free Martin, but it 
 proved as hard as Steel, a Craw pye (they 
 never will again cry Caw .') or a Dow 
 dressed with Butter — this I picked to the 
 Bayne — and'perhaps a Garvie Heron, but 
 of Salmon he had not so much as a Phin, 
 having mislaid the Lister. I accordingly 
 ordered the whole, being determined to 
 Mc Lean work ; and, while thus occupied, 
 the landlord, a Jollie enough personage, 
 with a bald Pate, who professed the Cot- 
 tart, or breaking of horses, and merry 
 as a Greig, but withal Wyllie as Tod 
 Lawrie told me he was a Welchraan, and 
 loved the Scott. He had been a great 
 traveller, having been at Leith, Forfar, 
 Dingwall, Stirling Hamilton, Lockerby, 
 Irvine, Traguhair, Dunbar, and even as 
 far as Lunan, and seen the King attended 
 by a Noble. He appeared to be well 
 acquainted with the Burgh. He said 
 that it could scarcely be called a Free- 
 land, for that there were — I Add is on 
 words,— "o'er Monilaws in't;" and since 
 the Tethperance Society began, {Mem' j«» 
 are now opening,) there was only one 
 Brewster in the place. The Sherriff, Mr. 
 Lawson, who is a terrible Flyter, and has 
 got Roger Maule appointed Dempster ; 
 and his Clerk, who is very Gfeig, he was 
 intimate with, and also with Mr. Herd- 
 man, the minister, who is very Merk, 
 Gentle, and Sage, and as worthy an Adam- 
 son as ever mounted a pulpit, and Ihorgh 
 an Auld man is married to a Young wife, 
 and still Putters-on in his accustomed old 
 2 R 2 
 
1223 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 23. 
 
 1224 
 
 way. He has an excellent band of Singers 
 in his Kirk, which is led by Davie Sangster, 
 the precentor, who has a pair of Cruick- 
 shanks, but is a first rate Singer. One 
 peculiarity is, that all Cosins go there in 
 Capples, carrying a pair of Tawse in their 
 liandd ; and the females with a Paton on 
 one Faote orily, and that they call the 
 Proudfoot ; this was a Les-tie than I ex- 
 pected ! Eadie, lately the people were not 
 a Little alarmed by a Dunn Bullock 
 bolting into the church, just as he had 
 given out for his text, " Asher shall not 
 save us ;" however, Peter Meiklejohn t^a 
 Hunter (although in general no Tumhull) 
 and Paul Littlejohn the Forrester, soon 
 turned him out — the latter having a cudgel, 
 part of the Firewood, given him by a 
 Wright, in his hand. 
 
 By this time it was beginning to Mack- 
 night, although the Moon * * 
 
 Origin of Texts. 
 
 The taking of a text seems to have ori- 
 ginated with Ezra, who, accompanied by 
 several Levites, in a public congregation 
 of men and women, ascended a pulpit, 
 opened the book of the law, and, after 
 addressing a prayer to the Deity, to which 
 the people said Amen, " read in the law 
 of God distinctly, and gave the sense, and 
 caused them to understand the reading." 
 Previously to that time, the Patriarchs de- 
 livered, in public assemblies, either pro- 
 phecies or moral instructions for the edi- 
 fication of the people. It was not until 
 the return of the Jews from the Babylonish 
 captivity, during which period they had 
 almost lost the language in which the 
 Pentateuch was written, that it became 
 necessary to explain, as well as to read, 
 the Scriptures to them ; a practice adopted 
 by Ezra, ai^d since universally followed. 
 In later times the books of Moses were 
 thus read in the synagogue every sabbath 
 day. To this custom our Saviour con- 
 fortped ; and, in the synagogue at Naza- 
 reth, read a passage from the prophet 
 Isaiah ; then closing the book, returned it 
 to the priest, and preached from the text. 
 This custom, which now prevails all over 
 the Christian world, was interrupted, in 
 the dark ages, when the Ethics of Aristotle 
 were read in many churches, on Sunday, 
 instead of the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 iBctotev 23. 
 
 23rd of October, 1707, Sir CJoudesly 
 Shovel perished at the age of forty-seven 
 with all his crew, on the rocks of Scilly. 
 He was then a rear-admiral, and com- 
 mander-in-chief of the fleet, with other 
 official distinctions. He had been the 
 son of a poor man at Norwich, and had 
 run away from his apprenticeship to 
 a shoemaker, in order to enter into the 
 navy, in which his attention and diligence, 
 under admiral Sir John Narborough, 
 raised him from being a cabin boy to the 
 rank of lieutenant. He rapidly attained 
 to the highest honors of the service. Plain 
 in his manners, and open and honest, the 
 nation loved the man who seemed to have 
 no aim but to advance its interests. Yet, 
 when splendor was necessary, he. observed 
 it. _ He once entertained on board his 
 ship the duke of Savoy, with sixty covers, 
 and an attendance of sixty halberdiers ; 
 and every thing was conducted in so 
 much appropriate order, that the duke 
 said to the admiral at dinner, "If your 
 excellency had paid me a visit at Turin, 
 I could scarce have treated you so well." 
 He was lost on his way home from 
 Toulon, with 900 seamen of all stations ; 
 of whom not an individual survived to 
 tell to what the fatal accident was owing. 
 His body was found, and buried with 
 public distinction, in Westminster Abbey, 
 where there is an immense but tasteless 
 monument to his memory. 
 
 In the formulary prepared by arch- 
 bishop Tenison " for imploring the divine 
 blessing on our fleets and armies," in the 
 month of April preceding, there was this 
 expression, "the rock of our might," 
 which some heartless wit remembered in 
 the following 
 Verses laid on Sir Cloudesly Shovel's tomb 
 
 in Westminster Abbey. 
 As Lambeth prayed, so was the dire event, 
 Else we bad wanted here a monument : 
 That to our fleet kind Heaven would be a roch ; 
 Nor did kind Heaven the wise petition mock : 
 To what the metropolitan did pen. 
 The Bishop and his Clerks replied Amen. 
 
 The rocks of Scilly are called by the 
 people of the country, and mariners in 
 general, "the Bishop and his Clerks." 
 
 The loss of Sir Cloudesly Shovel and 
 all his crew has been attributed to excess 
 of liquor, in drinking their " safe arrival," 
 after a perilous cruise in the Mediter- 
 ranean. " Indeed," says Mr.Noble," when 
 the dangers of Scilly are recollected, 
 
1225 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 23. 
 
 132« 
 
 added to the fact of the aamiral's having 
 ordered the fleet to lay to during the day 
 preceding to avoid them, we are at a loss to 
 account for the signal for sailing at night, 
 otherwise than by supposing that Shovel, 
 and the officers about him, had sunk their 
 caution, and all sense of danger too, in 
 wine." 
 
 Drunkards in Chancery. 
 In a law work by Mr. Joseph Parkes of 
 Birmingham, on the " Equity Jurisdiction 
 of the United States, 1830," it appears 
 that the American chancellor has the 
 custody of drunkards. By the statutes of 
 New York, whenever the overseers of 
 the poor of any city or town discover any 
 resident with property to the amount of 
 250 dollars, to be an habitual drunkard 
 they are required to apply to the court of 
 chancery. Upon the trial of an issue a 
 verdict determines the fact, a committee 
 is appointed of the drunkard's person, 
 and under the direction of the court his 
 personal estate is apportioned in liquidat- 
 ing his debts, and relieving his family. He 
 is in all respects treated as an idiot, or lu- 
 natic ward of the court. When he has 
 real property it is mortgaged or leased, if 
 requisite, for a term not exceeding five 
 years ; and, on his being restored to his 
 right mind, by becoming habitually sober, 
 he then, aud not till then, is deemed 
 capable of conducting his affairs, and. is 
 entrusted with the care of his own 
 property. 
 
 On the authority of a gentleman who 
 was in the Rothsay steam vessel, of Liver- 
 pool, at the time of her dreadful wreck, it 
 is now stated that if the passengers had 
 seized and confined the drunken captain, 
 and confided the vessel to a pilot then on 
 board, who knew the coast and saw the 
 danger, and remonstrated against the per- 
 sistence of the frenzied commander, the 
 vessel and passengers might have been 
 saved. 
 
 The Treasures of the Deep. 
 
 What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and 
 
 cells. 
 Thou hollow sounding and mysterious main ? 
 Pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-colour'd 
 
 shells. 
 Bright things which gleam unreck'd of, and in 
 
 vain. 
 Keep, keep thy liches, melancholy sta ! 
 We ask not such from thee. 
 
 Yet more, the depths have more ! — What 
 
 wealth untold. 
 Far down, and shining thro' their stillness, 
 
 liees ! 
 Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold. 
 Won from ten thousand royal argosies. 
 Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful 
 
 main. 
 
 Earth claims not these again I 
 
 Yet more, the depths have more ! thy waves 
 
 have roU'd 
 Above the cities of a world gone by ! 
 Sand hath filled up the palaces of old. 
 Sea-weed overgrown the halls of revelry. 
 Dash o'er them. Ocean ! in thy scornful pfay, 
 Man yields them to decay I 
 
 Yet more, the billows and the depths have 
 
 more ! 
 High hearts and biave are gather'd to thy 
 
 breast ! 
 They hear not now the booming waters roar. 
 The battle-thundeis will not break their rest. 
 Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy 
 
 grave — 
 
 Give back the true and brave ! 
 
 Give back the lost and lovely ! — those for 
 whom 
 
 The place was kept at board and hearth so 
 long ! 
 
 The prayer went up thro' midnight's breath- 
 less gloom. 
 
 And the vain yeaning woke midst festal song ! 
 
 Hold fast thy buried isles, thy tower's o'er- 
 thrown. 
 
 But all is not thine own ! 
 
 To thee the love of woman hath gone down. 
 Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head. 
 O'er youth's bright locks and beauty's flowery 
 
 crown ; 
 Yet must thou hear a voice — Restore the 
 
 dead ! 
 Earth shall reclaim her preciotis things from 
 
 thee. 
 
 Restore the dead, thou sea ! 
 
 Ifn, Hemam. 
 
 SHIPPING, &c. 
 
 " I am informed," says Fuller, " that 
 the mystery of shipwrights for some de- 
 scents hath been preserved successively 
 in families; of whom the Pets about 
 Chatham are of singular regard. Of ships 
 the most, best, and biggest, are built at 
 Woolwich, and Winter, near Chatham. 
 The Great Sovereign, built at Dulwich, 
 a higher ship for state, is the greatest ship 
 our island ever saw." 
 
 Henry VII. expended £114,000 in 
 building one ship, called the Great 
 Henry. She was properly speaking the 
 first ship in the royal navy. Before this 
 
i22r 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 23. 
 
 122R 
 
 period, when the prince wanted a fleet, 
 lie had no other expedient than hiring or 
 pressing ships from the mercliants. 
 
 In 1512. king Henry VIII. built at 
 Woolwich, which is said to be the oldest 
 royal dock, the largest ship ever known 
 before in England. She was of 1000 tons 
 burthen, and called the Regent. Two years 
 afterwards, in a terrible battle, between 
 the English and French fleets, slie grap- 
 pled with the great carrick of Brest, 
 whose commander, perceiving it impossi- 
 ble to separate his vessel from the Regent, 
 let slip her anchor. The ships turned 
 together, the Carrick on the weather side 
 and the Regent on the leeside, and in this 
 situation the ships maintained a cruel 
 fight. At length the English boarded the 
 Carrick, and she took fire; which com- 
 municated to the Regent, and both ships 
 were blown up; and 900 men of the carrick, 
 700 of the Regent, with the command- 
 ers of both, were burnt and drowned. 
 To replace the Regent, the king caused a 
 still larger ship to be built, and named it 
 Henry Grace de Dieu. 
 
 In the first year of queen Mail's reign, 
 the " goodliest ship in England, called the 
 Great Harry, being of the burthen of 1000 
 ♦ons, was burnt at Woolwich by negli- 
 gence of the mariners." 
 
 The famous and adventurous earl of 
 Cumberland was the first English sub- 
 ject that built a ship so large as 800 tons 
 burthen. In 1547 he employed this ship, 
 with others, at his own expense in an ex- 
 pedition against Spain. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth having granted to the 
 merchants trading to the East Indies 
 letters patent for fifteen years, they peti- 
 tioned for an enlargement to James I., 
 who granted them a charter for ever as a 
 body corporate and politic, under the 
 title of the East India Company, with 
 large privileges. This so encouraged the 
 new company that they built a ship of 
 1200 tons, which being the greatest ever 
 made in this kingdom by merchants, the 
 king and his son. Prince Henry, went to 
 Deptford to see, and named it the Trades' 
 Increase. This vessel, on returning from 
 a voyage to the Red Sea, was lost, and 
 most of her crew cast away. After this 
 misfortune the king himself built a ship 
 of war of 1400 tons, mounting sixty-four 
 pieces of great ordnance, and gave it to his 
 son Henry, who named it, after his own 
 dignity. The Prince.* 
 
 * Hume. Fuller. Baker. Anderson. 
 
 About 1564, was a great sea-fight be- 
 tween the fleets of Eric XIV., king of 
 Sweden, and Frederick II,, of Denmark. 
 The Swedish admiral's ship was of 
 enormous bulk, and mounted 200 brass 
 cannon. She was separated from the rest 
 of the fleet by a storm, and, while thus 
 detached, this large ship sustained the 
 attack of the whole Danish fleet, joined 
 by the fleet of Lubeck. She sunk the 
 Lubeck admiral by her side, but being 
 entirely surrounded by the combined 
 fleets, and wholly unaided, she was over- 
 powered, set on fire, and totally de- 
 stroyed. This is presumed to have been 
 the largest vessel that ever was built, and 
 will probably be the last of so great a 
 size. The Dutch, in the meridian of 
 their naval greatness, never exceeded 
 ninety gun ships ; and though first rates, 
 with more cannon, have been built in 
 England and France, they have been re- 
 garded rather as vessels of superior show 
 than of additional practical power.* 
 
 Canynge's Ships. 
 
 [For the Year Book,] 
 Mr. Hone, 
 
 It occurred to me on reading, under 
 March 9, in the Year Book, first that a 
 man so eminent as Canynge had not ac- 
 quired his wealth by piracy, and secondly 
 that the ships mentioned on his tomb were 
 most probably Bristol built. 
 
 Mathews's Bristol Guide, 1819, p. 12)> 
 in a note upon the inscription that king 
 Edward IV. had of the said William 
 (Canynge) 3000 marks for his peace, to be 
 had in 2470 tonnes of shipping says 
 that " This has given rise to a vulgar tra- 
 dition, that he had committed piracy at 
 sea, for which he was fined 3000 marks, 
 instead of which the king accepted 2470 
 tons of shipping. The truth is, Canynge 
 having assisted Edward IV. in his ne- 
 cessity with the above sum, the king 
 granted him in lieu of this loan or gift to 
 have 2470 tons of shipping free of im- 
 post, as appears by the original instrument 
 being in the exchequer. One of the judges 
 who was viewing the church (St. Mary, 
 RedclifT), and heard the sexton relate the 
 story about piracy, reprimanded him for 
 abusing the memory of so pious and wor- 
 thy a man, and gave this explanation." 
 
 The History of Bristol begun by Mr. 
 Corry and finished by the Rev. John 
 
 * Baker* 
 
Ii29 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 23. 
 
 1230 
 
 Evans, published in 1816, says, (ii. 384, 
 385), " To the name of Canynge has 
 been attached a peculiar splendor. The 
 piety which in early life induced him to 
 complete Redcliff church, which his 
 grandfather had commenced, and which 
 afterwards prompted him retire from 
 the world, and to dedicate himself to re- 
 ligion, has been deservedly celebrated. 
 His extensive mercantile transactions, the 
 number and size of the ships which he 
 possessed, his immense wealth, and his un- 
 bounded liberality, would furnish ample 
 theme for panegyric, and will transmit his 
 name to posterity as by far the most emi- 
 nent raan-'of the age in which he lived. 
 But, in addition to this, Canynge has 
 been represented as the patron of the arts, 
 the lover of the muses, and the friend and 
 protector of genius. He died in 1474, in 
 the sixty-ninth year of his age, and was 
 buried in the church of St. Mary, Red 
 cliff." 
 
 The same work (ii. 300) says, " The 
 commerce and manufactures of Bristol 
 appear to have made a considerable pro- 
 gress during the fifteenth century, about 
 the middle of which flourished the cele- 
 brated Canynge. This extraordinary 
 man employed 2853 tons of shipping, 
 and 800 mariners, during eight years. 
 Two recommendatory letters were written 
 by Heniy VI. in 1449, one to the master 
 general of Prussia, and the other to the 
 magistrates of Dantzic, in which the king 
 styles Canynge ' his beloved eminent 
 merchant of Bristol.' " 
 
 The itinerary of William Botoner, 
 commonly called William of Worcester, 
 preserved in the library of Benet Col- 
 lege, Cambridge, gives the names of Ca- 
 nynge's vessels, among which stand first, 
 
 The Mary and John, 900 tons. 
 The Mary Redcliff, 500 tons. 
 The Mary Canynge, 400 tons. 
 
 Botoner superadds the names and ton- 
 nage of shipping belonging to other mer- 
 chants of Bristol at this time ; among 
 them are the 
 
 John, 511 tons, and the 
 Mary Grace, 300 tons. 
 
 At the siege of Calais, in the fourteenth 
 century, Bristol furnished twenty-two 
 ships and 608 manners, while London 
 ' furnished twenty-five ships and 662 ma- 
 riners ; and in the wars against the French 
 king, in the reign of Henry VIII., Bristol 
 furnished eight ships, of which two were 
 
 600 tons each, two 400 tons each, one 
 300, and the two remaining 120.tons each. 
 
 J. T. 
 
 Last EaRi. and first Duke of 
 
 CofiNWALl. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 By Gilbert's History of Cornwall it 
 appears that John of Eltham, youngest 
 son to Edward II., was the last earl of 
 Cornwall ; and in the reign of Edward 
 III., by act of parliament, and the " in- 
 vestiture of a wreath, a ring, and a silver 
 rod," Cornwall became a duchy, " the 
 first in England," his son, Edward the 
 Black prince, being the first duke of 
 Cornwall ; since which time the title of 
 duke of Cornwall has successively de- 
 volved to the heir apparent of the king of 
 England. 
 
 This prince was no sooner invested 
 with the dukedom than his duchy was 
 invaded by the French and Scots, who 
 spread alarm all over the western coast, 
 burning Plymouth and other towns. 
 
 On the 4th of June, 1346, Edward III. 
 pTit to sea, intending to land in Guienne, 
 but being driven back by a storm, on the 
 Cornish coast, steered for Normandy. 
 Arriving at L' Hogue, he landed there, 
 and spread fire and sword to the very 
 gates of IJaris. Then succeeded the bat- 
 tles of Cressy and Poictiers, in the 
 former of which the duke of Cornwall 
 commanded the first line of the English 
 army, followed by some of the noblest 
 men of Cornwall ; in fact, king John sur- 
 rendered himself a prisoner to Sir John 
 Treffry, a Cornish knight. 
 
 The towns of Redruth, Liskeard, and 
 Fowey, supplied the duke's army with 
 many spirited and active young men. At 
 the siege of Calais, Fowey and Looe fur- 
 nished as follows ; — 
 
 Fowey . . 47 ships and 770 mariners. 
 Looe . . 20 do 315 do. 
 
 Plymouth only 26 do 606 do. 
 
 At this period the exchequer would 
 have been exhausted had not Cornwall 
 contributed a subsidy of £50,000, and 
 placed her mines at the complete disposal 
 of Edward, in order to supply the con- 
 tinued drains making upon the national 
 treasury. 
 
 S. S. S. 
 
 — ^-^— h. m. 
 
 October 23. — Day breaks ..51 
 
 Sun sets ... 6 55 
 
 — rises ... 5 5 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 50 
 
231 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24. 
 
 1232 
 
 ®ctofin 24. 
 
 2tlh of October, 1536, died in childbed 
 of Edward VI., the lady Jane Seymour, 
 queen to Henry VIII. He had married 
 her the day after the execution of queen 
 Anne Boleyn, to whom she had been 
 maid of honour. 
 
 Granger says " Jane Seymour was the 
 esf beloved wife of Henry VIII., and 
 had indeed the best title to his affection, 
 as she possessed more merit than any of 
 his queens." Henry continued a widower 
 two years after her decease, and then he 
 married Catherine Howard, on which 
 occasion he ordered a public thanksgivings 
 for his happiness, and in a few months 
 afterwards sent her to the scaffold. 
 
 The following verses are ascribed to 
 Queen Anne Boleyn, by Sir John Haw- 
 kins, who says they were communicated 
 to him by " a very judicious antiquary." 
 They are transcribed, on this occasion, 
 from " Specimens of British Poetesses, 
 by the Rev. Alexander Dyce." 
 
 Anne Boleyn's Lament. 
 
 Defiled is my name full sore. 
 
 Through cruel spyte and false report 
 That I may say for evermore. 
 
 Farewell, my joy ! adiewe comfort ! 
 For wrongfully ye judge of me_. 
 
 Unto my fame a mortal! wounde ; 
 Say what ye lyst It will not be, 
 
 Ye seek for that can nut be found . 
 
 death ! rocke me on slepe. 
 Bring me on quiet reste ; 
 
 Let passe my very guiltless goste 
 
 Out of my careful brest ; 
 Tolle on the passinge bell, 
 Ringe out the doleful knell^ 
 Let the sounde my dethe tell. 
 
 For I must dye. 
 
 There is no remedy. 
 
 For now I dye. 
 
 My paynes who can express 
 
 Alas ! they are so stronge. 
 My dolor will not suffer strength 
 
 My life for to prolonge ; 
 Toll on the passinge bell, &c. 
 
 Alone, in prison stronge, 
 
 I wayle my destenye ; 
 Wo worth this cruel hap that I 
 
 Should taste this m'iserye. 
 Toll on the passinge bell, &c. 
 
 -Farewell my pleasures past, 
 'Welcum my present payne ; 
 
 1 fele my torments so increse. 
 That lyfe cannot remayne. 
 
 Cease now the passings bell, 
 Rong is my doleful knell 
 
 For the sound my detb doth tell ; 
 J)eath doth draw nye, 
 Sound my end dolefully, 
 For now I dye. 
 
 A Lady of Excellent Conversation. 
 
 You would not only imagine all the 
 muses, but all the graces were in her too, 
 whilst for matter, words, and manner, 
 she is all that is delightful in conversation ; 
 her matter not stale and studied, but re- 
 cent and occasional ; not stiff, but ductile 
 and pliable to the company; high, not 
 soaring; familiar, not low ; profound, not 
 obscure ; and the more sublime, the more 
 intelligible and conspicuous. Her words 
 not too scanty nor too wide, but just fitted 
 to her matter; not intricately involving, 
 but clearly unfolding and explicating the 
 notions of her mind. In manner ma- 
 jestic, not inferior; conversation, that is 
 a tyranny with others, being a common- 
 wealth with her, where every one's dis- 
 course and opinions are free. Having too 
 much reason, to call passion to her aid, and 
 disdaining to use force and violence (the 
 ordinary arms of falsehood) to defend the 
 truth; so, if you yield not, she does, 
 rather than contend, leaving you the 
 shame of a victory, when, with raore ho- 
 nor, you might have yielded, and been 
 overcome : nor does she rashly take up 
 argument, and abruptly lay it dovm again ; 
 but handsomely assume it; delightfully 
 continue it, and, like an air in music, 
 just then, when the ear expects it, comes 
 unto a close ; all in her being sweet, 
 delightful, and harmonious, even to the 
 very tone and accent of her voice ; it being 
 more music to hear her speak, than others 
 sing. Then she's withal so easy company, 
 and far from all constraint, as 'tis pleasure 
 to be in it ; whilst others, like uneasy 
 garments, you cannot stir in without pain, 
 which renders her conversation far cheer- 
 fuller than theirs who laugh more, but 
 smile less, spending more spirits in 
 straining for an hour's mirth, than they 
 can recover in a month again ; which 
 renders them so unequal company, whilst 
 she is always equal, and the same. True 
 joy being a serious, constant thing, as far 
 different from light and giggling mirth 
 as elemental fire from squibs and crackers : 
 whence she, Prometheus like, inspires all 
 who converse with her with noble flame 
 
1233. 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24. 
 
 1334 
 
 and spirit ; none ever departing from her 
 company, but wiser and fai better than 
 they came. It being virtue to .know her, 
 wisdom to converse with her, refinest 
 breeding to observe her, joy to behold 
 her, and a species of the beatitude of 
 t'other life only to enjoy her conversation 
 in this. — Rich. Fleckno.* 
 
 Wedded Love. 
 
 Bow near am I to happiness 
 Tliat earth exceeds not ! not another like it : 
 The treasures of the deep are not so precious, 
 As are the concealed comforts of a man 
 LockM up in -woman's love. 1 scent the air 
 Of blessings when I come but near the house : 
 What a delicious breath marriage sends forth ! 
 The violet bed 's not sweeter. Honest wedlock 
 Is like a banqueting house built in a garden^ 
 On which the spring's chaste flowers take de- 
 light 
 
 To cast their modest odours. 
 
 Now for a welcome^ 
 
 Able to draw men's envies upon man ; 
 A kiss, now, that will hang upon my lip. 
 As sweet as morning dew upon a rose. 
 And full as long. 
 
 Middleton'i Women heveare Women, 1567. 
 
 If love be holy, if that mystery 
 Of CO -united hearts be sacrament ; 
 If the unbounded goodness have infused 
 A sacred ardour of a mutual love 
 Into our species ; if those amorous joys. 
 Those sweets of life, those comforts even in 
 
 death. 
 Spring from a cause above our reason's reach; 
 If that clear flame deduce its heat from heaven, 
 'Tis, like its cause, eternal ; always one. 
 As is th' instiller of divinest love. 
 Unchanged by time, immortal, maugre death. 
 But, oh ! 'tis grown a figment ; love, a jest : 
 A comic poesy : the soul of man is rotten. 
 Even to the core, no sound affection. 
 Our love is hollow, vaulted, stands on props 
 Of circumstance, profit, or ambitious passes. 
 Martton't What you Witt, 1607. 
 
 HAWKING. 
 ..his was once the amusement of all the 
 sovereigns of Europe, and paramount over 
 all other rural diversions. The post of 
 grand falconer was a place of high dignity 
 at all their courts, and at some of them is 
 still continued. The duke of St. Albans 
 is, at this time, hereditary grand falconer 
 of the British Q^urt, with a salary of 
 £1200 per annum. 
 
 * Enigmatical Character!, 1658, 
 
 Royal Hawking itf France. 
 
 The Grand Falconer of France had the 
 superintendence of all the king's falconers, 
 and was a sworn officer with wages and al- 
 lowances amounting to 22,200 livresyearly . 
 All hawk merchants, both French and fo- 
 reigners, were bound, under pain of confis- 
 cation of their birds, to come and pre- 
 sent them to the Grand Falconer, for 
 him to choose birds from for the king, 
 before they were allowed to sell any else- 
 where. 
 
 In the reigti of Louis XIV., if his ma- 
 jesty when hawking inclined to the plea- 
 sure of letting fly a hawk, the great fal- 
 coner placed it on the king's fist ; and, 
 when the prey was taken, the pricker gave 
 the head of it to his chief, and he to the 
 great falconer, who presented it to the king. 
 
 There were six several flights of hawks 
 belonging to the French king's falconry^ 
 
 1. Of the flight for the kite there was 
 a captain, or chief, who was also lieuten- 
 ant-general of the great falconry, lieuten- 
 ant-aid, a master falconer, five prickers, 
 and one decoy-bearer. 
 
 A second flight for the kite had the 
 same number of officers, and like salaries 
 and appointments. 
 
 When the captain of these flights of 
 hawkj took a black kite in the king's pre- 
 sence, he was to have the king's horse, his 
 loose gown, and his slippers, for his fees, 
 which were redeemed of him for 100 
 crowns, about 25/. sterling. 
 
 The flight at the kite was performed 
 with ger-falcons, tiercelets, or tassels, and 
 sometimes sakers ; and there was always a 
 decoy to draw the kite to a reasonable 
 height, to give him to the hawks. After 
 the kite was taken, the hawks had their 
 fees given them with all the speed imagin- 
 able : a hen was put into their talons, and 
 the kite's legs were broken that he might 
 not hurt the hawks. The kite is a rare bird 
 in France. 
 
 2. Of the flight of hawks for the heron, 
 there was a captain, who was also captain 
 of the guards, and keeper of the hawks'- 
 nests in Burgundy and Bresse, with com- 
 mands over all the flights, for heron, 
 throughout the kingdom ; also, a lieutenant- 
 aid, and two master falconers, and eight 
 prickers. 
 
 The flight at the heron was performed 
 with the same kind of hawks as that at the 
 kite; it was done two several ways: 1. 
 To make the herons mount, when on the 
 ground, two or three pistols or fowling- 
 
1235 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24. 
 
 1236 
 
 pieces were let off. When a bird fose, a 
 hawk, called in French haussepi^d, or a 
 raise-foot, was let fly at him ; and, when 
 he had mounted a good height, other 
 hawks were let out, which flew to fight 
 with the hausse-pied, and drew the heron 
 downward. There were always shagged 
 grey-hounds, bred to the sport, in readiness 
 to go into the water, and fetch the heron 
 to the falconer, when it fell there, or to 
 kill it when it fell on dry ground, for 
 fear the heron should hurt the hawks. 
 The first heron being thus killed, whilst 
 the falconers of the first flight were curing 
 their hawks, and giving them their usual 
 perquisites, other falconers had a second 
 flight always ready, to let fly at the other 
 herons, which commoDly kept hovering 
 over the place. The second way was to 
 fly hawks at the heron in her passage, 
 that is, at a reasonable height, while she 
 was going to, or coming from fishing, to 
 her young ones. When a heron was dis- 
 covered upon the ground, or upon the 
 wing, the usual cry was, " i. la volte," that 
 is, " to the vault." 
 
 3. There were two flights of hawks for 
 the crow. Of the first flight there was a 
 captain, a lieutenant-aid, a master falconer, 
 and twenty prickers. Of the second flight 
 there was a captain, a lieutenant-aid, seven 
 prickers, and a decoy-bearer. 
 
 The flight at the crow was performed 
 with a falcon, or a tassel of a gerfalcon. 
 The crow was inticed with a decoy, and, 
 as soon as she was got into the plain, the 
 falconers crjed out, " corneille en beau," 
 that is, " the crow flies fair ;" and then, as 
 the crow turned back on the decoy, they 
 commonly let fly at her, first a tassel of a 
 ger-falcon, which was the guide, and two 
 falcons afterwards. The crow, being at- 
 tacked, endeavoured to save herself, either 
 by soaring aloft, or retiring towards her 
 hold ; when she soared aloft, no luring, or 
 any other term was to be used ; but, when 
 she got to her hold, if she could be forced 
 out of it, then the cry was " hal, hal, hal." 
 
 4. There was one flight of hawks for 
 the fields, or for the partridge, to which 
 belonged a captain, a master falconer, and 
 eight prickers. 
 
 The flight for the fields was performed 
 with falcons, tassels of falcons, sakers, 
 sakerets, lanners, lannerets, alets, gos- 
 hawks, tassels of gos-hawks, spar-hawks, 
 tassel spar-hawks, merlins, and malots. 
 There were two ways of flying at the par- 
 tridge : first, with a sort of hawks which 
 turned and maintained the flight along 
 
 with the dogs, and would hold out half a 
 league outright, continually upon the wing; 
 and, secondly, with hawks called blockers, 
 which were let fly as soon as the partridges 
 rose, and drove them full sweep to their 
 hold, where, when they lighted upon a 
 branch, or on the top of a house, the fal- 
 coner went and served them with dogs. 
 Every time the partridge rose the cry was 
 " guereaux." 
 
 4. A flight for the river, or at the duck, 
 had a captain, or chief, a lieutenant-aid, 
 and four prickers. 
 
 The hawks used for the flight at the 
 river were strong hawks, and haggard 
 hawks, which were let fly into a moat or 
 brook having ducks. The cunningest and 
 most staid bird was first let fly to chase 
 the prey, and then two others, and, when 
 they were well turned, the ducks were le* 
 out, which the hawks knocked on the head; 
 or forced into another moat. Every time 
 the ducks moved away, the cry was " ila, 
 ila, ila," or " stou, slou, stou," like the 
 Flemings, and for fear any should go too 
 nigh the water they cried " hors I'eau," 
 that is, "keep off the water." 
 
 5. A flight for the magpie had a cap- 
 tain, and two prickers. 
 
 The flight at the magpie was perform- 
 ed with tassels of gerfalcons. First, the 
 most beaten and staid tassel was let fly to 
 chase and then the other hawks were let 
 out, and the magpie was shown them : as 
 she endeavoured to save herself from tree 
 to tree, or from bush to bush, she was 
 forced away ; and, every time she was 
 forced out, the cry was, " hoiiya, lioiiya." 
 
 6. A flight for the hare had a captain, 
 and a lieutenant-aid. 
 
 The flight at the hare was performed 
 with a gerfalcon, and a greyhound to help 
 the hawk sometimes. 
 
 There were also four other flights of 
 hawks belonging to the French king's cabi- 
 net, with olKcers attached to each of these 
 additional flights, viz. 1. A flight for the 
 crow, 2 the magpie, 3 the pigeon, and 4 a 
 flight of merlins. 
 
 The merlins were made use of to fly at 
 the young partridge, whilst the light hawks 
 were mewing or casting their feathers ; they 
 were used likewise for the quail, the black- 
 bird, the sky-lark, and other small birds 
 as likewise to fly at the pigeon brow- 
 strung. 
 
 The flight with the tHerlius was particu- 
 lar to the king's cabinet, being in no other 
 royal falconry but that of the cabinet. 
 This flight was performed from the fist, 
 
1237 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24. 
 
 123 
 
 that is, when the falconers were minded to 
 let fly at a young partridge, they did not 
 attack her till the dogs had raised her. 
 There was no difiFerence in the way of flying 
 this little bird, and the falcon called a 
 blocker, except that a merlin might be 
 carried -without hood-winking, upon the 
 fist, whereas a falcon was always carried 
 hood-winked, whether it was let fly one 
 way or the other. In flying at the black- 
 bird, and other small birds, they used 
 poles to beat them out of the hedges, and 
 cross-bows to have the pleasure of killing 
 them, when they could be got out of their 
 shelters. Of all the several sorts of birds 
 that the merlins were used to fly at, sky- 
 larks were deemed most delightful, and 
 afibrded more diversion, as showing the 
 eagerness and courage of the merlins. 
 The larks commonly endeavoured to save 
 themselves by soaring aloft, and so drew 
 the merlins up to the very clouds, from 
 whence they forced the larks to decend, 
 and endeavour to light in some thicket or 
 other shelter, before they could reach 
 which the merlins commonly took them. 
 The manner of flying merlins at the 
 pigeon brow-strung was thus : Two 
 strings were passed through the lower 
 eyelids of the pigeon, and then tied to- 
 gether above her head, so that her eyelids 
 were drawn up, and she could not see 
 downwards at all ; and then she was thrown 
 with the hand as high into the air as a 
 man could throw her, where seeing no 
 way but upward, she was forced to soar 
 upwards by spirts, and, when she was 
 mounted reasonably high, the falconers 
 sent the merlins, who never left pursuing 
 till they had fastened on her, and brought 
 her down ; " which sort of scuffle," says 
 our author, " lasts very often a great while, 
 and gives the most pleasure."* * 
 
 Thomas Nash, in his " Quatemio, 
 1633," tells, with delight, his enjoyment 
 ofhawking in boyhood. — "When I have in 
 my youthful days been as glad as ever I 
 was to come from school, to see a little 
 martin in the dead time of the year, 
 when the winter had put on her whitest 
 coat, and the frost had sealed up the 
 brooks and rivers, to make her way 
 through the midst of a multitude of foul- 
 mouthed ravenous crows and kites, which 
 pursued lier with more hideous cries and 
 clamours, than did Coll the dog, and 
 
 • Present state of France. By R. Wooley 1687 
 
 Malkin the maid, the fox in the apologue) 
 
 " When the geese for fear flew over the trees. 
 
 And out of their hires came the swarm of 
 
 bees," Chaucer, 
 
 and maugre all their oppositions pulled 
 down her prey, bigger than herself, being 
 mounted aloft, steeple-high, down to the 
 ground. And to hear an accipitrary re- 
 late again, how he went forth in a clear, 
 calm, and sun-shiny evening, about an 
 hour before the sun did usually mask 
 himself, unto the river, where finding of 
 a mallard, he whistled ofi' his falcon, and 
 how she flew from him as if she would 
 never have turned head again, yet pre- 
 sently upon a shoot came in ; how then 
 by degrees, by little and little, by flying 
 about and about, she mounted so high, 
 until she had lessened herself to the view 
 of the beholder, to the shape of a pigeon 
 or partridge, and had made the height of 
 the moon the place of her flight ; how pre- 
 sently, upon the landing of the fowl, she 
 came down like a stone and renewed it, 
 and suddenly got up again, and suddenly, 
 upon a second landing, came down again, 
 and missing of it, in the downcome, re- 
 covered it, beyond expectation, to the 
 admiration of the beholder; and to 
 hear him tell, a third time, how he 
 went forth early in a winter's morning, 
 to the woody fields and pastures, to fly 
 the cock, where having by the little white 
 feather in his tail discovered him in a 
 brake, he cast off a tassel gentle, and how 
 he never ceased in his circular motion, 
 until he had recovered his place; how 
 suddenly upon the flushing of the cock 
 he came down, and missing of it in the 
 downcome, what working there was on 
 both sides ; how the cock mounted ; as if 
 he would have pierced the skies; how 
 the hawk flew a contrary way, until he 
 had made the wind his friend ; how then 
 by degrees he got up, yet never offered 
 to come in; until he had got the advantage 
 of the higher ground ; how tlien he made 
 in, what speed the cock made to save 
 himself, and what hasty pursuit the hawk 
 made, and how after two long miles flight 
 killed it, yet in killing of it killed him- 
 self. These discourses I love to hear, 
 and can well be content to be an eye- 
 witness of the sport, when my occasions 
 will permit." 
 
 The pastime of hawking is poetically 
 described by Massinger in his " Guar 
 dian, a Comedy, 1655." 
 
1239 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24. 
 
 1240 
 
 -" In the aftemooQ, 
 
 For we will have variety of delights. 
 We'll to the field again, no game shall rise 
 
 But we'll be ready for't ; 
 
 -^—^^ for the pye or jay, a spar- 
 row hawk 
 Flies from the fist ; the ctow so near pursued. 
 Shall be compell'd to seek protection under 
 Our horses bellies ; a heam put from her 
 
 siege. 
 And a pistol shot off in her breech, shall 
 
 mount 
 So high, that, to your view, she'll seem to 
 
 soar 
 Above the middle region of the air: 
 A cast of haggard falcons, by me mann'd. 
 Eying the prey at first, appear as if 
 They did turn tail ; but, with their laboring 
 
 wings 
 Getting above her, with a thought their 
 
 pinions 
 Clearing the pure element, make in. 
 And by turns bind with her; the frighted 
 
 fowl. 
 Lying at her defence upon her back. 
 With her dreadful beak, awhile defers her 
 
 death. 
 But, by degrees farced down, we part the fray. 
 And feast upon her. 
 
 -Then, for an evening flight, 
 A tiercel gentle, which I call, my masters. 
 As he were sent a messenger to the moon. 
 In such a place flies, as he seems to say. 
 See me, or see me not : the partridge sprung, 
 He makes his stoop \ but, wanting breath, is 
 
 forced 
 To canceller ; then, with such speed as if 
 He carried lightning in his wings, he strikes 
 The trembling bird." 
 
 The old books upon hawking are written 
 with great vivacity and spirit, and abound 
 more in gentle description, and pleasant 
 anecdote, than any other treatises upon 
 field-sports. 
 
 The training of hawks consisted princi- 
 pally in the manning, luring, flying, and 
 hooding them. Of these, the first and 
 second imply a perfect familiarity with 
 the man, and a perfect obedience to his 
 voice and commands, especially that of 
 returning to the fist at the appointed 
 signal. 
 
 " All hawks," says Markham, " ge- 
 nerally are manned after one manner, 
 that is to say, by watching and keeping 
 them from sleep, by a continual carrying 
 them upon your fist, and by a mos. 
 familiar stroking and playing with them, 
 with the wing of a dead fowl, or such 
 like, and by often gazing and looking 
 
 them in the face, with a loving and gentle 
 countenance, and so making them ac- 
 quainted with the man. After your 
 hawks are manned, you shall bring them 
 to the lure by easy degrees, as, first, 
 making them jump unto the fist, after fall 
 upon the lure, then come to the voice, 
 and, lastly, to know the voice and lure so 
 perfectly, that either upon the sound of 
 the" one, or sight of the other, she will 
 presently come in, and be most obedient; 
 which may easily be performed, by giving 
 her reward when she doth your pleasure, 
 and making her taste when she disobeyeth : 
 short winged hawks shall be called to. the 
 fist only, and not to the lure; neither 
 shall you use unto them the loudness and 
 variety of voice which you do to the 
 long winged hawks, but only bring them 
 to the fist by chirping your lips together, 
 or else by the whistle." 
 
 The flying includes the appropriation 
 of peculiar hawks to peculiar game ; thus 
 the faulcon gentle, which, according to 
 Gervase Markham, is the principal o 
 hawks, and adapted either for the field or 
 river, will fly at the partridge or the 
 mallard; the gerfaulcon will fly at the 
 heron; the sakerat the crane or bittern; 
 the lanner at the partridge, pheasant, or 
 chooffe ; the Barbary faulcon at the par- 
 tridge only ; the merlin and the hobby at 
 the lark, or any small bird ; the goshawk 
 or tercel at the partridge, pheasant, or 
 hare ; the sparrow-hawk at the partridge 
 or blackbird, and the musket at the bush 
 or hedge only. 
 
 The hooding of hawks, as it embraces 
 many technical terms, which have been 
 adopted by our poets, and, among the 
 rest, by Shakspeare, will require a more 
 extended explanation, and this we shall 
 give in the words of Mr. Strutt. " When 
 the hawk," he observes, " was not flying 
 at her game, she was usually hood-winked, 
 with a cap or hood provided for that 
 purpose, and fitted to her head ; and this 
 hood was worn abroad, as well as at 
 home. All hawks taken upon ' the fist,' 
 the term used for carrying them upon the 
 hand, had straps of leather called Jessies 
 put about their legs ; the Jessies were made 
 suflSciently long for the knots to appear 
 between the middle and the little fingers 
 of the hand that held them, so that the 
 lunes, or small thongs of leather, might 
 be fastened to them with two tyrrits, or 
 rings ; and the lunes were loosely wound 
 round the little finger; lastly, their legs 
 were adorned with bells, fastened with 
 
1241 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24, 
 
 1242 
 
 rings of leather, each leg having one ; 
 and the leathers, to which the bells were 
 attached, were denominated bewits ; and 
 to the bewits was added the creance, or 
 long thread, by which the bird, in tutor- 
 ing, was drawn back, after she had been 
 permitted to fly ; and this was called the 
 reclaiming of the hawk. The bewits, 
 we are informed, were useful to keep the 
 hawk from winding when she bated, 
 that is when she fluttered her wings to 
 fly after her game. Respecting the bells, 
 it is particularly recommended that they 
 should not be too heavy, to impede the 
 flight of the bird ; and that they should 
 be of equal weight, sonorous, shrill, and 
 musical ; not both of one sound, but the 
 one a semitone below the other ; they 
 ought not to be broken, especially in the 
 sounding part, because, in that case, the 
 sound emitted would be dull and un- 
 pleasing. There is, says the Book of St. 
 Alban's, g;reat choice of sparrow-hawk 
 bells, and they are cheap enough ; but 
 for gos-hawk bells, those made at Milan 
 are the best, and, indeed, they are excel- 
 lent, for they are commonly sounded with 
 silver, and charged for accordingly." 
 
 In the Book of Rates for the customs 
 and poundage of Charles I., 1635, there 
 are the following entries concerning 
 hawks, and hawks'-belis. 
 
 Rate inwards. Subsidie. Impost. 
 s. d. 8. d. 
 Faulcons, the hauke 26 8 53 4 
 Goshawkes, the hauke 20 45 8 
 Jerfaulcons, the hauke 30 60 
 Jerkins, the hauke . 20 46 8 
 Lanners, the hauke . 26 8 53 4 
 Lanarets, the hauke .13 4 26 8 
 Tassels of all sorts,the 
 
 hauke .... 13 4 26 8 
 Haukes' hoods the gross, 
 cont. 12 dozen ... 13 4 68 
 Haukes'bellSjFrench, •% 
 
 making the dozen > 2 6 18 
 paire . . . .J 
 Haukes' bells,Norem- 
 brough, making 
 the dozen paire . 12 12 
 In the Table of Rates, outwards, is set 
 down the subsidy for " hawkes'-hoods, 
 the dozen, 2s. 6d." 
 
 Gervase Markham, in his " Complete 
 Gentleman," upon " hawkes'-bells," says, 
 " The bells which your hawke shal weare, 
 looke in any wise that they be not too 
 heavy, whereby they overloade hir, neither 
 
 that one be heavier than another, but both 
 of like weight : looke, also, that they be 
 well sounding and shrill, yet not both of 
 one sound, but one at least a note under 
 the other." He adds, " of spar-hawkes' 
 bells there is choice enough, and the 
 charge little, by reason that the store 
 thereof is great. But for goshawks some- 
 times bells of Millaine were supposed to 
 be the best, and undoubtedly they be ex- 
 cellent,for that they are sounded with silver, 
 and the price of them is thereafter; but 
 there be now," he observes, " used bells 
 out of the low countries, which are ap- 
 proved to be passing good, for they are 
 principally sorted ; they are well sounded, 
 and sweet of ringing, with a pleasant 
 shrilnesse, and excellently well lasting." 
 
 John Stephens, in his " Satyrical 
 Essays, Characters, &c., 1615," thus de- 
 scribes the character of a falconer: — 
 " A falconer is the egg of a tame pullet, 
 hatched up among hawks and spaniels. 
 He hath in his minority conversed with 
 kestrils and young hobbies ; but growing 
 up he begins to handle the lure, and look 
 a falcon in the face. All his learning 
 makes him but a new linguist; for to 
 have studied and practised the terms of 
 Hawk's Dictionary is enough to excuse 
 his wit, manners, and humanity. He 
 hath too many trades to thrive ; and yet, 
 if he had fewer, he would thrive less. 
 He need not be envied, therefore, for a mo- 
 nopoly ; for though he be barber-siirgeon, 
 physican, and apothecary, before he com- 
 mences hawk-leech ; though he exercise 
 all these, and the art of bow-strings 
 together, his patients be compelled to pay 
 him no further than they be able. Hawks 
 be his object, that is, his knowledge, ad- 
 miration, labor, and all ; they be indeed 
 his idol, or mistress, be they male or 
 female : to them he consecrates his amor- 
 ous ditties, which be no sooner framed 
 than hallowed ; nor should he doubt to 
 overcome the fairest, seeing he reclaims 
 such haggards, and courts every one with 
 a peculiar dialect." 
 
 Brathwait, in his " English Gentle- 
 man," has the following remarks and 
 pleasant story concerning hawking : — 
 " This pleasure, as it is a princely delight, 
 so it moveth many to be so dearly en 
 amoured of it, as they will undergo any 
 charge, rather than forego it ; which makes 
 me recal to mind a merry tale which [ 
 have read to this effect. Divers men, 
 
1213 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24. 
 
 1244 
 
 having entered into discourse touching 
 the superfluous care (I will not say folly) 
 of STich as keep dogs and hawks for 
 hawking, one Paulus a Florentine stood 
 up and spake — Not without cause (quoth 
 he) did that fool of Milan laugh at 
 these ; and, heing entreated to tell the 
 tale, he thus proceeded : — Upon a time 
 (quoth he) there was a citizen of Milan, 
 a physician for such as were distracted or 
 lunatic, who took upon him, within a 
 certain time, to cure such as were brought 
 unto him. And he cured them after this 
 sort — he had a plot of ground near his 
 house, and in it a pit of corrupt and 
 stinking water, wherein he bound naked 
 such as were mad to a stake, some of 
 them knee-deep, and others deeper ac- 
 cording to the degree of their madness, 
 where he so long pined them with water 
 and hunger, till they seemed sound. 
 Now, amongst others, there was one 
 brought, whom he had put thigh-deep in 
 water ; who, after fifteen days, began to 
 lecover, beseeching the physician that he 
 might be taken out of the water. The 
 physician, taking compassion of him, 
 took him out, but, with this condition, 
 that he should not go out of the room. 
 Having obeyed him certain days, he gave 
 him liberty to walk up and down the 
 house, but not to pass the out-gate; 
 while the rest of his companions, which 
 were many, remaining in the water, dili- 
 gently observed their physician's com- 
 mand. Now it chanced, as on a time he 
 stood at the gate (for out he durst not go, 
 for fear he should return to the pit), he 
 beckoned to a young gentleman to come 
 unto him, who had a hawk and two 
 spaniels, being moved with the novelty 
 thereof; for, to his remembrance, before 
 he fell mad, he had never seen the like. 
 The young gentleman being come unto 
 him ; Sir (quoth he), I pray you hear me 
 a word or two, and answer me at your 
 pleasure. What is this you ride on 
 (quoth he), and how do you employ him? 
 This is a horse (replied he), and I keep 
 him for hawking. But what call you 
 that, you carry on your fist, and how do 
 you use it ? This is a hawk (said he), 
 and I use to fly with it at pluver and 
 partridge. But what (quoth he), are 
 these which follow you, what do they, or 
 wherein do they profit you ? These are 
 dogs, and worth but very little, not above 
 six crowns. The man replied, what 
 then may be the charge you are at with 
 your horse, dogs, and hawk ? Some fifty 
 
 crowns, said he. Whereat, as one won- 
 dering at the folly of the young gentle- 
 man ; away, away Sir, I pray you quickly, 
 and fly hence before our physician return 
 home; for if he find you here, as one 
 that is maddest man alive, he will throw 
 you into his pit, there to be cured with 
 others, that have lost their wits; and 
 more than all others, for he will set you 
 chin-deep in the water." 
 
 Dr. Drake, from whose work on 
 " Shakspeare and His Times" these pas- 
 sages are derived, says, that during the 
 reigns of Elizabeth and James, the recre- 
 ation of hawking descended from the 
 nobility to the gentry and wealthy yeo- 
 manry, ?.nd no man could then have the 
 smallest pretensions to the character of a 
 gentleman who did not keep " a cast of 
 hawks." Of this a ludicrous instance 
 occurs in "Every Man in His Humour." 
 
 " Master Stephen. How does my 
 cousin Edward, uncle ? 
 
 Knawell. O, well couse, go in and 
 see : I doubt he be scarce stirring yet. 
 
 Steph. Uncle, afore I go in, can you 
 tell me, an' he have ere a book of the 
 sciences of hawking and Viunting? I 
 would fain borrow it. 
 
 Know. Why, I hope you will not a 
 hawking now, will you ? 
 
 Steph. No, couse ; but I'll practise 
 against next year, uncle. I h<»ve bought 
 me a hawk, and a hood, and bells, and all ; 
 I lack nothing but a book to keep it by. 
 
 Know. O, most ridiculous ! 
 
 Steph. Nay, look you now, you are 
 angry, uncle : why you know, an' a man 
 have not skill in the hawking and hunting- 
 languages now-a-days, I'll not give a 
 rush for him. They are more studied 
 than the Greek or the Latin. He is for 
 no gallant's company without 'hem. — A- 
 fine jest ifaith! Slid a gentleman mun 
 show himself like a gentleman!" 
 
 Eormerly, there were many large tracts 
 of land in and near Cranbourne chase, 
 called " Hawking Downs," which were 
 covered with gorse and fern, and resorted 
 to by pheasants and partridges. These 
 were great hawking grounds with the 
 neighbouring gentry who followed the 
 pastime, after the fashion of the times, 
 and kept and trained hawks without re- 
 gard to expense. Three letters from a 
 sporting gentleman of that country to an 
 ancestor of the rev. Mr. Chafin, the 
 pleasant relator of many agreeable anec- 
 
.1245 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTObEIl 24. 
 
 246 
 
 dotes relating to Cianboume Cliase, ex- 
 emplify the importance in which hawks 
 were then held, and tl\e value they bore. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 Addressed " To Thos. Chann, esq., at Mr. 
 Loyds, in Grecue Streeie, to be delivered 
 wheu he comes to London. Ffrank^ Lon- 
 don." 
 
 <* Sr, 
 " I hare a man now in London that 
 can carry hawkes : pray, as soon as this 
 conies to your handes, goe to Mr. Chif- 
 finch, and, if the hawkes are come in, 
 send me down, by my man, the largest 
 and hansomest hawkes that are brought 
 over in the llushian shipps : my man 
 lodges at coUonel Coker's lodging; Mr. 
 Andrew Lodercan inform you where Mr. 
 Coker lodges ; if my man bringes down 
 the hawkes it will save me 30s. a-piece, 
 and he will bring them more carefully 
 than another, and there will be no fear of 
 changing the hawkes. If my man stays 
 three or four days, if the hawkes are not 
 come in, I shall be contented ; but, if 
 there be no expectation of the hawkes 
 coming in, let my man come away pre- 
 sently, and I will desire Mr. Mompesson 
 to bring down the hawkes, but you must 
 make some private marke in them, and 
 send me word what it is, tliat I ma be 
 sure that they may not be changed. 
 " 1 am "our kinsman and servant, 
 
 « W. T. FRAMPT02J." 
 
 II. 
 
 ^Sr, 
 
 May yc 1st 1682. 
 
 " The hawke you sent me to keep is 
 now a burden ; for I have a cast besides, 
 and I cannot get good meat for them, soe 
 that you must dispose of her, being a 
 beautiful! Moscowy hawke. She is every 
 bodis munney; from the marchant she 
 is worth £lO. I paid Mr. Mompesson's 
 man for bringing her down, 10s. I have 
 made her a good conditioned hawke, and 
 killed a brace of pheasants with her ; I 
 would not do so much for another man If 
 he would have given me £5. Your hawke 
 is full of flesh, and very brisky. John 
 Downes, at George Downes's house, on 
 Newington Casway, will get you a chap- 
 man for the hawke. I have paid Mr 
 Coker 20s. for keep of your gellding, and 
 one shilling to the man. The dog you 
 had from the king is mangy from top to 
 
 toe, but I hope to cure him, but he is not 
 able io leap over a low stile. I am your 
 faithful! friend, Will. Frampton. 
 
 III. 
 
 «Sr, 
 
 " If I should not see you before I go to- 
 wards Newmarket (the end of this month), 
 don't think me ill natured or disrespectful. 
 I shall, for near a fortnight be tumbling 
 up and downe in Dorset and Wilts, till t 
 have got up some money to make up part 
 of my engagements, but 1 doubt 1 shan't 
 all. I could lodge a night with good 
 content at your hovise, were my friend 
 Mrs. Nancy well, to help prattle with me, 
 and had I a new half ginney to be out of 
 my maid Mary's debt, which, indeed, I 
 tried to get in London, of the quineis, of 
 whom I am promissed. 1 shall tliinke of 
 providing some present for her father, to 
 ,-eimburs him for his trouble and charge 
 to feed and take care of my loose hawkes ; 
 but, that you may take no advantage of 
 any promisse, and another reason more 
 powerful, I only add that I am your 
 nameless friend." 
 
 " September 16-90." 
 
 Mr. Horatio Smith, in his agreeable 
 volume on "Festivals, Games, and Amuse- 
 ments," mentions that, " latterly, the duke 
 of St Alban's liereditary grand falconer 
 lias imported hawks from Germany, and 
 has attempted to revive the ' noble art of 
 falconry;' the expense, however, of a 
 hawking establishment is so considerable, 
 and the sport itself so little adapted to an 
 enclosed country, that the example does 
 not seem likely to be generally followed.'' 
 
 Song. 
 
 By Ihe heath stood a lady. 
 
 All lonely and fair ; 
 As she watch'd for her lover 
 
 A falcon flew near. 
 " Happy falcon !" she cried, 
 
 " Who can fly where he list. 
 And can choose in the forest 
 
 The tree lie loves best ! 
 '* Thus, too, had I chosen 
 
 One knight for mine own. 
 Him my eye hp.d selected. 
 
 Him priz'd I alone. 
 But other fair ladies 
 
 Have envied my joy ; 
 And why ? for I sought not 
 
 Their bliss to destroy. 
 
1247 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24. 
 
 1248 
 
 ** As to thee, lovely Bummer ! 
 
 Returns the birds' strain. 
 As on yonder green linden 
 
 The leaves spring again, 
 8o constant doth grief 
 
 At my eyes overflow. 
 And wilt not thou, dearest. 
 
 Return to me now "! 
 
 "Yes, come my own hero. 
 
 All others desert ! 
 When first my eye saw thee. 
 
 How graceful thou wert ! 
 How fair was thy presence. 
 
 How graceful, how bright ! 
 Then think of me only. 
 
 My own chosen knight !" 
 
 Dietmar of Ast, ISth Century. 
 
 The Dames ot the different species of 
 hawks, and the terms used in hawking, 
 with various particulars concerning the 
 value of hawks, their caparisoning, the 
 fondness of ladies and clergy for the sport, 
 and its antiquity, with accompanying 
 engravings, form a chapter in " Strutt's 
 Sports and Pastimes,'* lately published in 
 octavo. Mr. St^-utt's work has been rarely 
 referred to in the preceding columns, 
 because that volume was edited by the 
 compiler of the Year Book, and is proba- 
 bly in the hands of the present reader. 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 True Love, 
 
 I tannot hide from thee how much I fear 
 The whispers breathed by flatterers in thine ear 
 Against my faith : — but turn not, oh ! I pray, 
 That heart so true, so faithful, so sincere, 
 So humble and so frank, to me so dear, 
 O lady turn it not from me away ! 
 
 So may I lose my hawk ere he can spring. 
 Borne from my hand by some bold falcon's 
 
 wing. 
 Mangled and torn before my very eye, 
 If every word thou uttcrest does not bring 
 More joy to me than fortune's favoring, 
 Or all the bliss another's love might buy ! 
 
 So, with my shield on neck, mid storm and 
 
 rain, 
 With vizor blinding me, and shortened rein, 
 With stirrups far too long, so may I ride ; 
 So may my trotting charger give me pain, 
 So may the ostler treat me with disdain, 
 As they who tell those tales have grossly lied ! 
 Bertrand de Born, 12th Century, 
 
 The Banished Lover. 
 
 Lady, since thou hast driven me forth, 
 
 Since thou, unkind, hast banished me 
 (Though cause of such neglect be none). 
 Where shall I turn from thee ? 
 Ne'er can I see 
 Such joy as I have seen before. 
 If, as I fear, I find no more 
 Another fair, — from thee removed, 
 1*11 sigh to think I e'er was loved. 
 
 And since my eager search were vain 
 
 One lovely as thyself to find, — 
 A heart so matchlessly endowed. 
 Or manners so re6ned, 
 So gay, so kind. 
 So courteous, gentle, debonair,— 
 I'll rove, and catch from every fair 
 Some winning grace, and form a whole, 
 To glad (till thou return) my soul. 
 The roses of thy glowing cheek. 
 
 Fair Sembelis ! Ill steal from thee ; 
 That lovely smiling look I'll take. 
 Yet rich thou still ahalt be. 
 In whom we see 
 All that can deck a lady bright : 
 And your enchanting converse, light. 
 Fair Elis, will I borrow too. 
 That she in wit may shine like you 
 
 And, from the noble Ghales, I 
 
 Will beg that neck of ivory white. 
 And her fair hands of loveliest form 
 I'll take ; and speeding, light, 
 Hy onward flight. 
 Earnest at Roca Ghoart's gate. 
 Fair Agnes I will supplicate 
 To grant her locks more bright than those 
 Which Tristan loved on Yseult's brows. 
 
 And, Aiidiartz, though on me thou frown. 
 
 All that thou hast of courtesy 
 I'll have, — ^thy look, thy gentle mien. 
 
 And all the unchanged constancy 
 That dwells with thee. 
 And, Miels de Ben, on thee I'll wait 
 For thy light shape, so delicate. 
 That in thy fairy form of grace 
 My lady's image I may trace. 
 
 The beauty of those snow white teeth 
 From thee, famed Faidit, I'll extort, 
 The welcome, affable, and kind, 
 
 To all the numbers that resort 
 Unto her court. 
 And Bels Mirails shall crown the whole. 
 With all his sparkling flow of soul ; 
 Those mental charms that round her play^ 
 For ever wise, yet ever gay, 
 
 Bertrand de Botm. 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October 24.— Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 2 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 6 57 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 5 3 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 58 
 
1249 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 21. 
 
 1250 
 
 DON. 
 
 [To Mr. Hone. J 
 
 Sir, — ^I believe you are no spoftsman, 
 and, if so, you will hardly be able to 
 sympathise with the long legard I have 
 had for a favorite dog, which has tempted 
 me, at this genial season of the year, to 
 offer a slight sketch and account of him for 
 the Year Book. 
 
 To such of your readers as delight, like 
 myself, in field sports, the following may 
 be interesting, or at least amusing. 1 
 am no penman, and no scholar; indeed, 
 I have heard it hinted that very few of my 
 fraternity are. Without waiting to com- 
 bat those worthies who pride themselves 
 on their elegant ignorance of every thing 
 that relates to the sports of the field, I 
 shall, en passant, wish^ them every happi- 
 ness iiL meir own way, and, at the same 
 time, beg to assure them that with T)on, 
 my double-barrel, and a decent sprinkle 
 of birds (which last, by the way, this 
 season has kindly afforded), I never envy 
 any man. To proceed, then, which I 
 must in my own plain way — if ever dog de- 
 served to have his name recorded, or his 
 portrait preserved, it is the one whose 
 lilceness accompanies this. 
 
 Vol. I. — 10. 
 
 It is well known that every one's dog 
 is the best in England, in ihe owner's 
 opinion ; at least, when the merits of the 
 animal are discussed, such is generally the 
 wind-up of his qualities. I will not say so 
 of Don, but this I can say, that I believe a 
 better dog never entered a field, and all the 
 necessary qualities of a pointer were cen- 
 tred in him. I should tell you this is 
 the eleventh season I have hunted him, 
 and, though he is now nearly thirteen 
 years old, he can find game with most of 
 the young ones. However, Don was 
 young once; and, to begin with him fi-om 
 a whelp — he is what is termed a fox- 
 hound-pointer, his mother having been 
 a true pointer ; and his father a fox- 
 hound. It is more common to breed in 
 this way now than it was at that time ; 
 for it has been proved that one dog bred 
 upon this plan, after he is once steadied 
 toliis work, which requires more schooling 
 than with the common pointer, is worth 
 any brace of thorough-bred dogs for 
 finding game : the fox-hound-pointer has 
 more speed, a finer scent, and is far more 
 lasting. Don was one of seven whelps, 
 all of which died, excepting himself^ 
 2 S 
 
1251 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24. 
 
 1252 
 
 before they were a month old. He wa3 
 a weakly puppy for some months, and 
 if he had ever taken the distemper would 
 most probably have died too ; but I had 
 the precaution to vaccinate him, and he 
 never had a touch of it : I have since 
 vaccinated several hounds, as well as 
 pointer-puppies, all of which have es- 
 caped, or had the disease very mildly. 
 
 Don was nearly a twelve month old 
 before he could be hunted at all, and he 
 then, all at once, became such a riotous 
 rascal, I had almost given him up, and 
 began to think he never would stand, 
 when, having tired him out one day, as I 
 was returning home he happened to drop 
 upon a hen pheasant, and made a most 
 brilliant point ; this gave me some hope, 
 and, as he was remarkably handsome and 
 strong built, I determined to conquer 
 him. Most certainly I had a world of 
 trouble, but he has amply repaid me since. 
 Having so much hound in him he was 
 very much given to chase, and babble 
 too, when birds got up ; but, after having 
 a few knocked down to him, be became 
 steady, and then it was he began to show 
 the most extraordinary sagacity I ever saw 
 a pointer possess. He was so fast that he 
 would hunt a field before another dog 
 could think about it; still his speed was 
 good, for I seldom knew him to blink a 
 bird. When in his prime, I have fre- 
 quently backed him to find his birds in a 
 ten acre field within two minutes, if the 
 birds were in it ; and this was one remark- 
 able point in him, — that, on entering "a 
 field, beseemed to know by instinct where 
 the birds would lie ; for he would take a 
 momentary survey, and then, generally, 
 go clean up to them at once — an extreme- 
 ly pleasant dog for an idle man. You 
 might sit on a gate while he hunted his 
 field, and he would pretty soon tell you 
 if there was any thing in it. His nose 
 was so keen and good, that I have seen 
 him in a brisk wind find his birds a hun- 
 dred and fifty yards off across the furrows ; 
 and this after birds were marked down, 
 and it was known they could not have 
 run. He was, and now is, very tender- 
 mouthed, and would always bring his 
 game without the slightest injury. He 
 could tell, as well as myself, and some- 
 times better, whether a bird was hit, and 
 many are the birds he has saved for me, 
 and retrieved fields away from where I 
 shot them. If a bird was hit, he would 
 watch him till he topped the hedge, and 
 then, if he once started, I always restef" 
 
 satisfied I should bag my bird. He 
 would never chase a hare when she got 
 up, unless he thought she was wounded, 
 and then few greyhounds were fleeter. I 
 have known him course a hare that had 
 been hit, nearly a mile, straight a-head, 
 and bring her safely to me. 
 
 Some of my friends used to think' I 
 should spoil Don, from the variety of sport 
 I used him for; such as pheasant, partridge, 
 woodcock, snipe, hare, and any sort of 
 water-fowl shooting, the latter especially 
 he was extremely fond of. He has fre- 
 quently stood a duck or a moorhen, with 
 the water running over his back at the 
 time. If a rat was to be killed, Don was 
 sure to be ready, and as good as any 
 terrier at a rat's hole. To crown all, he 
 was a rare dog for an otter, and has 
 played a good part at the taking of two or 
 three. In short, nothing could spoil him. 
 He always knew his business, and, al- 
 though he would rattle a wood like a 
 lion, he was perfectly steady again the 
 next minute, out of cover. I have seen 
 him stand at game for nearly two hours 
 without blenching ; and at the same time 
 looking as eager as if he would dash in 
 every moment. In high turnips his 
 action was very good ; he would always 
 cpntrive to show himself ; standing some- 
 times on his hind legs only, so that his 
 head and fore quarters might be seen ; he 
 would never drop on his game unless it 
 was close to him. On one occasion I 
 was shooting with a friend, when Don 
 came at full speed, so suddenly, upon a 
 hare, that he slipped up, and laid nearly 
 on his back ; he would not move, and 
 my friend thought he was in a fit till 
 madam jumped up, when she was killed, 
 and Don righted himself. So extremely 
 punctilious was he in backing another 
 dog, when game was found, that he once 
 caught sight of a point at the moment of 
 jumping a stile, and actually balanced * * * * 
 himself on the stile for several seconds, 
 till he fell. But he was seldom called 
 on to back ; for, if two or three of his 
 brethren were out with him, he pretty 
 generally found all the game himself. 
 He would, what is termed, point single; 
 that is, if birds lay well in potatoes or 
 turnips, for instance, ^nd got up one by 
 one, he would not leave his point till all 
 were gone, unless by a turn of the head, 
 or a step, to show where the next bird 
 lay ; I have in this way had seven shots 
 to him without his moving a leg. He 
 generally stood very handsomely, with his 
 
'1263 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK—OCTOBER 24. 
 
 1254 
 
 head and stern well up, and remarkably 
 firm and bold ; as if he was conscious of 
 his own beauty and worth. 
 
 There are many soortsmen who sally 
 forth solely with the idea of getting as 
 much game as they can, and care little 
 for their dogs, as long as they do but get 
 birds ; I should term these gentlemen 
 what that best of sportsmen, Col. Hawker, 
 would call them, pot-hunters. For my 
 own part, I think the action of my dogs 
 constitutes one half of the enjoyment; 
 and, if the circumstance of a dog pointing 
 at all be considered abstractedly, it is a 
 matter of great admiration. 
 
 What dog is there possessing the sin- 
 gular self-deoial of the pointer or setter ? 
 The hound gives full play to his feel- 
 ings ; chases and babbles, and kicks 
 up as much riot_as he likes, provided he 
 is true to his game; the spaniel has no 
 restraint, excepting being, kept within 
 gunshot; the grey-hound has it all his 
 own way as soon as he is loosed ; and the 
 terrier watches at a rat's hole because be 
 can't get into it; but the pointer, at 
 the moment that other dogs satisfy them- 
 selves, and rush upon their game, sud- 
 denly stops, and points with almost 
 breathless anxiety to that which we might 
 naturally suppose he would eagerly seize. 
 No ! this is my master's, and not mine I 
 To-ho's the word, and here I am till he 
 comes up, or the birds are off of them- 
 selves. They run, he creeps after cau- 
 tiously and carefully, stopping at intervals, 
 lest, by a sudden movement, he should 
 spring them too sooii. ' And then observe 
 and admire his delight when his anxiety, 
 for it is anxiety, is crowned with success; 
 when the bird falls, and he lays it joyfully 
 at his master's feet. Oh! a pointer should 
 never be ill-used : he is too much like one 
 of us : he has more headpiece than all 
 the rest of the dog tribe put together. 
 Narrowly watch a steady pointer on his 
 game, and see how he holds his breath. 
 It is evident he must stand in a certain 
 degree of pain, for we all know how 
 quickly a dog respires; and when he 
 comes up to you in the field he puffs 
 and blows, and the tongiae is invariably 
 hanging -out of the mouth. You never 
 see this on a point ; and to check it sud- 
 denly must give the dog pain ; the effort 
 to be quiet, with fetching the breath 
 deeply, causes, at intervals, a sudden 
 hysteric gasp, which he cannot by any 
 possibility prevent till he can breathe 
 freely again : I have often thought ff the 
 
 hurnuig sensation a dog must have at his 
 chest just at this time. I cannot help' 
 therefore looking on the pointer as the 
 most perfect artist of the canine race; 
 and any one who has studied the sundry 
 callings of our sundry dogs, must, I think, 
 agree with me. 
 
 On two occasions Don signalized him- 
 self particularly before two or three 
 friends ; the first of these would appear 
 almost incredible, but it is fact ; late in 
 the month of August, 1826, I was hunt- 
 ing him with a puppy that was then in 
 the field for the second or third time ; as 
 I wanted to show hini birds previous to 
 the season ; T)on found some birds very 
 handsomely, about the middle of the field ; 
 the puppy had been jumping and gam- 
 bolling about, with no great hunt in 
 him, and upon seeing the old dog stand, 
 ran playfully up to him, when lion de- 
 liberatey seized him by the neck, gave him 
 a good ' shaking, which sent him back 
 howling to me, and then turned round 
 and steadied himself on his point, without 
 moving scarcely a yard. I have heard 
 that no animal can put two ideas together, 
 but I think Don showed here that he 
 could. What was it but as much as to 
 say, " You fool ! let me alone ; don't you 
 see what I'm about ? Don't bother me !" 
 At all events, it struck me and my friends 
 so : it was evident from the old dog's 
 manner that he intended it as a proper 
 correction. 
 
 At another time I was shpoting with a 
 friend in the isle of Sheppey, where the 
 birds were very plentiful that season : we 
 had a brace of'dogs out, Don, and a white 
 setter. In one field, which was nearly 
 forty acres, we had found several covies, 
 when Don, taking the hedge-row, stood 
 very staunch nearly at the end of the 
 field ; — an old sportsman will say, what 
 business had he there before the field was 
 properly hunted ; but if Don has a fault, 
 it is being rather too fond of a hedge 
 when another dog is vrith him. As we 
 were walking up, the setter stood between 
 u| and Don, about 200 yards' from the 
 latter ; we at first thought he was backing 
 the other, but, upon coming near to him, 
 we found he had birds of his own ; and 
 first come first served. We walked to 
 him, when the birds rose, and we both 
 killed : the old dog 'turned his head upon 
 hearing the guns, and actually saw the 
 birds fall ; but, knowing he was right 
 himself, he stuck to his own game, and 
 continued perfectly steady. We could 
 2 S 2 
 
1255 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 25, 26. 
 
 1356 
 
 not help exclaiming upon this excellent 
 performance, but, I am soriy to say, Don 
 was not properly rewarded ; for, upon 
 reloading our guns, and walking up to 
 him, an old cock bird rose, which we 
 both missed, and, as Matthews says, if 
 that is not a staunch dog, I don't know 
 what is. I have seen many' dogs that 
 would stand a long while, but I think few 
 would be so much on their guard as this. 
 Unless, sir, your readers have as much 
 patience as I have shown Don to possess, 
 I am afraid I must have exhausted it by 
 this time. In conclusion I have only to 
 state that the old dog is now in perfect 
 health, but age will show itself, and he 
 can't make a gallop of it for more than a 
 couple of hours. However, he has, in 
 company with another, afforded good sport 
 to me and two friends this season, which 
 I am afraid will prove his last: but, as 
 long as life is not a burthen to him, he 
 shall live ; and when he must die, I could 
 attach that to his grave which has graced 
 the burial sod of many of the nobler race, 
 possibly, less deserving of it: namely, 
 " He departed this life respected by all 
 who knew him." I hope you will not 
 think by this I have enough of the Byron 
 feeling about me to prefer the friendship 
 of dog to man ; but, I assure you, when 
 my old servant is gone I shall look back 
 with pleasure to the memorial left of him 
 in your pages. 
 
 J, W. 
 September 18ih, 1831. 
 
 ^ttOitV 25. 
 
 Fall of Pont Notre Dame. 
 
 25th of October, 1499, about nine 
 o clock in the morning, the bridge Notre 
 Dame, at Paris, fell down. Its fall was 
 attributed to the avarice of the prevot des 
 marchands, who received for each of the 
 houses an annual rent of eighty livres, 
 but laid out a very small sum in repairs. 
 The surveyor of the public works had the 
 year before warned the corporation of its 
 danger in vain. On the morning of the 
 aecident, a master-carpenter having said 
 to one of the magistrates that the bridge 
 would fall that day, the worthy magistrate 
 sent him to prison, and denounced the 
 carpenter to Baillet the president of the 
 parliament of Paris, as a miserable wretch 
 tor uttering the prediction. The parlia- 
 ment viewed the affair differently. They 
 
 instantly dispatched orders to the inha- 
 bitants of the bridge to remove, and 
 placed guards at the extremities to pre- 
 vent the passage of individuals. Fissures 
 soon appeared in the pavement and in 
 the houses, and at length the bridge fell 
 with a tremendous crash. Several of the 
 inhabitants, too eager to remove their 
 effects, were buried in the ruins : the 
 course of the river was obstructed ; and 
 the sudden elevation of the water carried 
 away several women who were washing 
 linen on the shore. The foundations of a 
 new bridge in stone were laid the same 
 year, and, during its construction, a 
 ferry-boat was established upon the river. 
 The abbot and monks of St. Germain- 
 des-Pr6s opposed the establishment of 
 this ferry-boat upon the ground of privi- 
 leges granted to them by king Childebert, 
 and it was necessary to obtain a decree to 
 remove the obstacles which they raised.** 
 
 On Sundays and fetes, persons were 
 allowed to expose birds for sale upon the 
 Font au Change, a bridge over the Seine, 
 upon condition that they should let two 
 hundred dozens fly at the moment when 
 a king or queen of France was crossing 
 the bridge in procession.f 
 
 October 25. — Day breaks . 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 
 5 4 
 
 6 58 
 
 5 2 
 
 6 56 
 
 <!ICtOfie¥ 26. 
 
 Blood Letting. 
 
 To be blooded at "spring and fall" 
 was the custom of our ancestors ; and 
 about this time from ten to twelve ounces 
 of blood used annually to be taken away 
 by the lancet. This custom is now very 
 properly laid aside, and it is found that a 
 few gentle doses of aperient medicine 
 from the first setting in of the autumnal 
 chilling weather, when the body becomes 
 indisposed, answers all the purposes of 
 bleeding, without its inconveniences, The 
 bleeding at the nose, and the fluxes called 
 the cholera and diarrhea, which occur 
 spontaneously in autumn, have been con- 
 sidered as natural indications that the 
 system requires depletion in this season-t 
 
 • History of Paris, iii. 141. 
 
 t History of Paris, iii. 153. 
 
 % Dr. Forsters' Perennial Calendar. 
 
1257 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 26. 
 
 1258 
 
 Effects of Trades on Health ahd 
 Life. 
 
 Mr. Thackrah, in a very important 
 work,* states a variety of facts, vfhich 
 afford the following results, concerning 
 the occupations of artisans : — 
 
 Out of Doors. 
 
 Butchers, and Slaughtermen,, their 
 wives, and their errand-boys, almost all 
 eat fresh-cooked meat at least twice a-day. 
 They are plump and rosy. They are, 
 generally, also cheerful and good-natured, 
 neither does their bloody occupation, nor 
 their beef-eating, render them savage, as 
 some theorists pretend, and even as the 
 English law presumes. They are not 
 subject to such anxieties as the fluctua- 
 tions of other ttades produce; for meat is 
 always in request, and they live comfortably 
 in times, as well of general distress, as of 
 general prosperity. They are subject to 
 few ailment^ and these the result of 
 plethora. Though more free from dis- 
 eases than other trades, they, however, do 
 not enjoy greater longevity; on the con- 
 trary, Mr. T. thinks their lives shorter 
 than those of other men who spend much 
 time in the open air. They, in fact, live 
 too highly for long life. Congestion of 
 blood, affecting chiefly the vessels of the 
 abdomen and head, shortens^he lives of 
 numbers who are plump, rosy, and appa- 
 rently strong. Dr. Murray, of Scarbo- 
 rough, says the high living of butchers 
 assuredly leads to jjlethora and premature 
 dissolution. He adds,'- 
 
 Coatmeters, &c., of London, rarely, if 
 ever, attain the age of forty, though men 
 remarkable for muscular bulk and strength. 
 They work most laboriously, perspire 
 immensely, and supply such waste by 
 extraordinary and almost incredible po- 
 tations of porter, which ultimately, with- 
 out much positive and actual intemperance, 
 brings on irregularities of the digestive 
 system, structural changes, and death. - 
 
 * It is entitled " The Effects of the prin- 
 cipal Arts, Trades, and Professions, and of 
 Civic States and Habits of Living, on Health 
 and Longevity ; vith a particular reference 
 to the Trades and Manufactures of Leeds; 
 and Suggestions for the Removal of many 
 of the Agents -which produce Disease, and 
 shorten the duration of Life. By C. Turner 
 Thackrah. 1831. Longman and Co." 8vo. 
 p. 162. — The present extracts are derived 
 from the Literary Gazette. 
 
 Cattle and horse dealers are generally 
 healthy, except when their habits are in- 
 teniperate. 
 
 Fishmongers, though much exposed to 
 the weather, are hardy, temperate, healthy, 
 and long lived. 
 
 Cart drivers, if sufficiently fed, and 
 temperate, the same. 
 
 Labourers in husbandry, &c., suffer from 
 a deficiency of nourishment. 
 
 Brickmakers, with full muscular exer- 
 cise in the open air, though exposed to 
 vicissitudes of cold and wet, avoid rheu-. 
 matism and inflammatory diseases, and 
 live to good old age. 
 
 Chaise - drivers, postilions, coachmen, 
 guards, &c., from the position of the two 
 former on the saddle, irregular living, &c., 
 and from the want of muscular exercise 
 in the two latter, are subject to gastric 
 disorders, and, finally, apoplexy and 
 palsy, which shorten their lives. 
 
 Carpenters, coopers, wheelwrights, &c., 
 are healthy and long lived. 
 
 Smiths are often intemperate, and die 
 comparatively young. 
 . Rope-makers and gardeners suffer from 
 their stooping postures. 
 
 Paviors are subject to complaints in 
 the loins, increasing with age, but they 
 live long. 
 
 Indoor Occupations. 
 
 Tailors, from their confined atmosphere 
 and bad posture, are subject to stomach 
 complaints and consumption. It is ap- 
 parent, from their expression of counte- 
 nance, complexion, and gait, that the 
 functions of the stomach and the heart are 
 greatly impaired, even in those who 
 consider themselves well. We see no 
 plump and rosy tailors; none of fine 
 form and strong muscle. The spine is 
 generally curved. The prejudicial influ- 
 ence of their employment is more insidious 
 than urgent — it undermines rather than 
 destroys life. 
 
 Staymakers have their health impaired, 
 but live to a good average. 
 
 Milliners, dress-makers, and straw bon- 
 net-makers, are unhealthy and short lived. 
 
 pinners, cloth-dressers, weavers, &c.&c., 
 are more or less healthy, as they have 
 exercise and air. Those exposed to 
 inhale imperceptible particles of dressings, 
 &c., such as frizers, sufier from disease, 
 and are soonest cut off. 
 
 Shoemakers work in a bad posture, J)y \ 
 which digestion and circulation are so 
 much impaired, that the countenance 
 
1259 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 26. 
 
 1260 
 
 marks a shoemaker almost as well as a 
 tailor. From the reduction of perspiration 
 and other excretions, in this and similar 
 employments, the blood becomes impure, 
 and the complexion darkened. The 
 secretion of bile is generally unhealthy, 
 und bowel complaints are frequent. In 
 the few shoemakers who live to old age, . 
 there is often a remarkable hollow at the 
 base of the breast-bone, occasioned by 
 the pressure of the last. 
 
 Curriers and leather-dressers are very 
 healthy, and live to old age. 
 
 Sadlers lean much forward, and suffer 
 from headache and indigestion. 
 
 Printers are kept in a confined atmo- 
 sphere, and generally want exercise. 
 Pressmen, however, have good and varied 
 labor. Compositors are often subjected 
 to injury from the types. These, being 
 a compound of lead and antimony, emit, 
 when healed, a fume which effects respir- 
 ation, and produce partial palsy of the 
 hands. Careful printers avoid composing 
 till the types are cold, and thus no injury 
 is sustained. The constant application of 
 the eyes to minute objects gradually en- 
 feebles these organs. The standing pos- 
 ture tends to injure the digestive organs. 
 Some printers complain of disorder in 
 the stomach and head; and few appear 
 to enjoy full health. Consumption is 
 frequent. We scarcely find or hear of a 
 compositor above the age of fifty. 
 
 Bookbinders are generally healthy. 
 
 Carvers and gilders look pale and 
 weakly, but their lives are not shortened 
 in a marked degree. 
 
 Clochmakers are generally healthy and 
 long-lived. 
 
 Watchmakers are the reverse. 
 
 House-servants in large smoky towns 
 are unhealthy. 
 
 Colliers and well-sinkets seldom reach 
 the age of fifty. 
 
 Employments producing Dust, Odor, or 
 Gaseous Exhalations, 
 
 Exhalations from animal substances are 
 not injurious ; nor are the vapours of wine 
 or spirits. [?] 
 
 Tobacco manufacturers do not appeal 
 to suffer from the floating particles iq 
 heir atmosphere. 
 
 Snuff-making is more pernicious. 
 
 Men in oil-?nills generally healthy. 
 
 Brnshmukers live to very great age. 
 
 Srooms and hostlers inspire ammnniacal 
 gas, and are robust, healthy, and long- 
 lived. 
 
 Glue and size-boilers, exposed to the 
 most noxious stench, are fresh-looking 
 and robust. 
 
 Tallow-chandlers, also exposed to an of- 
 fensive animal odor, attain considerable 
 age. During the plague in London it was 
 remarked that this class of men suffered 
 much less than others. 
 
 Tanners are remarkably strong and 
 exempt from consumption. 
 
 Corn-millers, breathing an atmosphere 
 loaded with flour, are pale and sickly, 
 and rarely attain to old age. 
 
 Maltsters cannot live long, and must 
 leave the trade in middle life. - 
 
 Tea-men suffer from the dust, especially 
 of green teas ; but the injury is not per- 
 manent. 
 
 Coffee-roasters become asthmatic, atjd 
 subject to headach and indigestion. 
 
 Paper-makers, when aged, cannot en- 
 dure the effect of the dust from cutting 
 the rags. Mr. Thackrah suggests the 
 use of machinery in this process. In the 
 wet, and wear and tear of the mills, they 
 are not seriously affected ; but live long. 
 
 Masons are short lived, and generally 
 die before forty. They inhale particles 
 of sand and dust, lift heavy weights, and 
 are often intemperate. 
 
 Miners die prematurely. Last year 
 there were, in the village of Arketidale, (in 
 the heart of the mining district) not les^ 
 than thirty widows under thirty years oj 
 age. The prevalent maladies appear to 
 be affections of the lungs and bowels. 
 Smelting is considered a most fatal occu- 
 pation. The appearance of the men is 
 haggard in the extreme. 
 
 Machine-makers seem to suffer only 
 from the dust they inhale, and the conse- 
 quent bronchial irritation. The filers (of 
 iron) are almost all unhealthy men, and 
 remarkably short lived. 
 
 Founders in brass suffer from the inhal- 
 ation of the volatilised metal. In the 
 founding of yellow brass, in particular, 
 the evolution of oxide of zinc is very great. 
 They seldom reach forty years. 
 
 Copper-smiths are considerably affected 
 by the fine scales which rise from the 
 imperfectly volatilised metal, and by the 
 fumes of the " spelter," or solder of brass. 
 They are generally unhealthy, suffering 
 from disorders similar to those of the 
 brass-founders. 
 
 Tinplate-workers are subjected to fumes 
 from muriate of ammonia, and sulphure- 
 ous exhalations from the coke wliich they 
 burn, whicli appear to be annoying rather 
 
1261 
 
 THE YEA.R BOOKi— OCTOBEll 27. 
 
 262 
 
 than injurious. The men are tolerably 
 healthy, and live to a considerable age. 
 
 Tinners are subject only to temporary 
 inconvenience from the fumes of the 
 soldering. 
 
 Plumbers, being exposed to the volatil- 
 ised oxide of lead, are sickly in appear- 
 ance, and short lived. 
 
 House-painters are unhealthy, and do 
 not generally attain full age. 
 
 Chemists and druggists, in laboratories, 
 are sickly and consumptive. 
 
 Potters are affected through the pores 
 of the skin. They are remarkably subject 
 to constipation, and become paralytic. 
 
 Hatters, grocers, bakers, and chimney- 
 sweepers, suffer through the skin; but, 
 though the irritation occasions diseases, 
 they are not, except in the last class, 
 fatal. 
 
 Ih/ers are healthy and long-lived. 
 
 Brewers are, as a body, far from healthy. 
 A robust, and often florid appearance, 
 conceals chronic diseases of the abdomen, 
 particularly a congested state of the venous 
 system. When the men are accidentally 
 hurt or vfounded, they are more liable 
 than other individuals to severe and dan- 
 gerous effects. 
 
 Cooks and confectioners are subjected 
 to considerable heat. Our common cooks 
 are more unhealthy than housemaids. 
 Their digestive organs are frequently dis- 
 ordered ; they are subject to headach, and 
 their tempers are rendered irritable. 
 
 Glass-workers are healthy. 
 
 Gla^s-blowers often die suddenly. 
 
 Health in Old Ace. 
 
 Hark hither, reader, wouldst thou see 
 Nature her own physician be ? 
 Wouldst see a man all his own wealth. 
 His own phy«ick, his own health? 
 A man, whose soher soul can tell 
 How to wear her garments well ? 
 Her garments that upon her sit, 
 ' As garments should do, close and fit X 
 A well cloth'4 soul that's not opprest, 
 Nor choak'd with what she would be drest ? 
 A soul sheath'd in a crystal shrine. 
 Through which all her bright features shine t 
 As when a piece of wanton lawn. 
 As thin aereal vail is drawn 
 O'er beauty's face, seeming to hide, 
 More sweetly shows the blushing bride ? 
 A soul whose intellectual beams 
 No mists do mask, no lazy steams ? 
 A happy soul, that all the way 
 
 To heaven hath a summer's day ? 
 
 Wouldst see a man, whose well-wana'd blood 
 
 Bathes him in a genuine flood f 
 
 A man whose tuned humours be 
 
 A set of rarest harmony ? 
 
 Wouldst see blith looks, fresh cheeks^ beguiU 
 
 Age, wouldst see December smile ? 
 
 Wouldst see a nest of roses grow 
 
 In a bed of reverend snow 1 
 
 Warm thoughts, free spirits, flattering 
 
 Winter's self into a spring ? 
 
 In summe, wouldst see a man that can 
 
 Live to be old, and still a man ? 
 
 That which makes us have no need 
 
 Of physick, that's physick indeed. 
 
 Bichard CratJiaw, 
 
 October 26. — Day breaks . 
 Sun rises . . 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m, 
 5 6 
 7 
 
 5 
 
 6 54 
 
 ®(tofier 27. 
 
 27th of October, 1708, died in her 
 fifty-eighlh year, lady Mary Howard, 
 eldest daughter of Charles Howard, earl 
 of Carlisle, the amiable widow of the 
 profligate Sir John Fenwick, bart., of 
 Wallington, in Northumberland, who was 
 executed for high treason. She endea- 
 voured vfith as much zeal to gain the 
 liberty of a faithless tyrannical husband, 
 as if he had been true and gentle. She 
 even attempted to bribe two of the wit- 
 nesses against him. Porter and Goodman. 
 The former pretended to be overcome 
 with her promises ; and having drawn 
 her ladyship, with Chancey, an agent, 
 into a private apartment, persons whom 
 he had placed as witnesses in an adjoining 
 room, came in and seized them and the 
 money. Upon their evidence Chancfey 
 was convicted of subornation of perjury, 
 and pillored. Tthe lady Howard .suc- 
 ceeded in buying off Goodman, who 
 disappeared ; - but she could obtain no 
 other favor to Sir John than the in- 
 dulgence that he should fall by the axe 
 instead of the halter.* 
 
 
 , 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Octobir 27.- 
 
 —Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 8 
 
 
 Snn rises . . 
 
 . 7 2 
 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 4 58 
 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 52 
 
 Noble. 
 
12S3 
 
 TIIK YEAR BOOK —OCTOBER 27. 
 
 126+ 
 
 OTHAM CHURCH, KENT 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 " Tell me what wants me heie^ to worke 
 
 tielyte. 
 The simple a)ire, the gentle warbling winde. 
 So calm^ so coole, as no where else 1 finde. 
 The grassy ground, with daintie daysies dight, 
 The bramble bush, where birdes of every 
 
 kind. 
 To waterfalls their tunes attemper right." 
 
 This qviestLon I proposed to myself as 
 I strolled leisurely onwards one sunjmer's- 
 day through the green fields and shadowy 
 orchards of the garden of England, 
 lulled into contemplation by the pleasant 
 lapse of waters every now and then 
 crossing my path, or gliding away fleetly 
 beside me. I was wandering towards 
 Otham, a pretty village not far from 
 Maidstone, through scenery beautifully 
 undulated, and beneath a sky whose silent 
 depth was studded with bright clouds 
 like ice-flakes, broken on the slope of 
 some weary current, and floating rapidly 
 apart through the calm hyaline above, 
 
 while the scene below was as full of life 
 as in one of those brightest days of the 
 year's youth when " all things that love 
 the sun are out of doors." I have at- 
 tempted to describe it in the followhig 
 lines : — 
 
 The air is brisk, and the green lo'v^land ring^ 
 With tinkling waterfalls and bubbling springs. 
 The clouds glance fieetly by, and, as they pass 
 Fling their light shadows o'er the glittering 
 
 grass. 
 The wild thyme trembles as the reckless bee 
 Springs from its dusky flow'rets fearfully. 
 The distant hills give back the tediois cry 
 Of some lone crow that wings it wearily. 
 And the pale weeds which chafe thattott'ring 
 
 wall 
 Lisp to the chirpings of the waterfall- 
 
 Through the tall hedge-row, where the strag- 
 gling rose 
 Bows its warm blossom as the light wind Dlows, 
 And stately elms their twining branches sway. 
 Streams the. full splendour' of the noo&Ttide 
 
 ray; 
 While in its sheen the glitt'ring flies prolong 
 The mazy dance, and urge their drowsy song. 
 
1265 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 28. 
 
 1266 
 
 Though with fair speech and music ever new 
 The woods are vocal, and the waters too ; 
 Sounds less presuming, but to fancy dear. 
 Come indistinctly o'er the wakeful ear. 
 The whirring beetle as it blindly heaves 
 The BcramblUig black-thoin, or the sapling's 
 
 leaves. 
 Or dash of pebbles in that brooMet's tide. 
 As the wren nestles in its grassy side. 
 Ohl icould I lose the world, and, thus be- 
 guiled. 
 Pass all my days in some secluded wild ! 
 For all it proffers seems, compared to this, 
 A thirsty desert, where no water is. 
 
 On leaching the church-yard, it was 
 not long before I descried the " narrow 
 seat," shown to the right of the preceding 
 cut 
 
 " Part shaded by cool leafy elms, and part 
 Offering a sunny resting-place to those - 
 Who seek the house of 'worship, while the bells 
 Yet ring with all their voices, or before 
 The last hath ceased its solitary knoll."* 
 
 I procured the key of the church, the 
 interior of which manifests unusual neat- 
 ness. It contains a chaste and appro- 
 priate tablet to the memory of Dr. Home, 
 late bishop of Norwich, whose " Com- 
 mentary on the Psalms will continue to 
 be a companion to the closet, till the de- 
 votions of earth, shall end in the halle- 
 lujahs of Heaven." 
 
 On the south side of the altar is a brass 
 
 plate, with figures of a man, his wife, and 
 
 seven children,' thus inscribed : — 
 
 " In God is all my trust. 
 
 Here lyeth the body of Thomas Hendley, 
 
 esquier by degre. 
 
 The yongest sone of Jervis Hendley, of Cor- 
 
 sworne in Cramkebrocke, 
 
 Gent'man known to be. 
 
 Who gave a house, and also land, the Fif- 
 
 teene for to paye. 
 
 And to relieve the people pore of this parishe 
 
 for aye 
 Be died the day of from Him that 
 
 Judas sold 
 A thousand five hundredth and ninety yere, 
 
 being eightie nine yeres ould. 
 
 Protesting often before his death, when he 
 
 his faith declared. 
 
 That onlye by the death of Christ he hop d 
 
 to be saved. ' (Query, spared !) 
 
 Christ is cure only Savior." 
 
 The ry thm and metre of these verses are 
 
 only equalled by those of " Mrs. Harris's" 
 
 petition, 1699:— 
 
 • Wordsworth. — Shakspeare uses the 
 word " kcoU " in a similar sense in one of his 
 sweetest passages. 
 
 " I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's 
 
 chamber because 1 was cold. 
 And 1 had, in my purse, seven pounds four 
 
 shillings and six pence, besides farthings, 
 
 in money and gold." 
 The hiatus in the fifth line the reader 
 may fill up ad libitum, as the poetry will 
 not suffer by the introduction or omission 
 of a few syllables, the " first day of May," 
 or the " twenty-second day of Decem- 
 ber," being equally eligible for that pur- 
 pose. 
 
 One of the bells has the following in- 
 scription : 
 
 jlotannee fflfiristi tare liignare pro 
 
 nobis orare. 
 There was formerly a religious house 
 at Otham, founded by Ralph de Deiie, 
 the ground for which was given by Sir 
 Robert de Thurnham, who afterwards 
 went into Palestine with " Richard, who 
 robbed the lion of his heart," where he 
 signalized himself so much as to obtain 
 this honorable mention in one of our 
 old chroniclers : — 
 
 ■Robert Ite Ctorntant bittig ^ts faucSton , 
 '<San to ctalte mans a crobin, 
 " But," says Weever, "he was so busy 
 in cracking the Saracins crownes that he 
 tooke the lesse heede (I think) of his 
 owne, for then and there he was slaine." 
 
 iBttoiev 28. 
 
 War. 
 
 October 28, 1467, Erasmus was bom. 
 " Poor in the world, but rich in genius ; 
 obscure in his birth and unpreferred at 
 his death, but illustrious by his virtues ; 
 he became the self-appointed champion 
 of man, a volunteer in the service of 
 miserable mortals, an unbought advocate 
 in the cause of those who could only re- 
 pay him with their love and their prayers 
 — the poor outcast, the abject slave of 
 superstition or tyranny, and all the name- 
 less numberless sons of want and woe, 
 born only to suffer and to die," This es- 
 timate of htm is from the preface to a 
 translation by the late Rev. Dr. Vicessi- 
 mus Knox, of Erasmus's " Antipolemus, 
 or the Plea of Reason, Religion, and 
 Humanity against War." 
 
 Erasmus was the uncompromising 
 advocate for Peace; and it was in a simi- 
 lar character that Dr. Knox became his 
 translator, and says, in an excellent pre- 
 face to Erasmus'd treatise, "The total 
 
1267 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— OCTOBER 29. 
 
 1268 
 
 abolition of War, and the establishment 
 of perpetual and universal Peace, appear 
 to me to be of more consequence than 
 any thing ever achieved, or even at- 
 tempted, by mere mortal man since the 
 creation. The goodness of the cause is 
 certain, though its success for a time be 
 doubtful. Yet will I not fear. I have 
 chosen ground, solid as the everlasting 
 hills, and firm as the very firmament of 
 heaven. I have planted an acorn ; the 
 timber and the shade are reserved for 
 posterity." 
 
 h. m. 
 October 28. — Day breaks . . 5 10 
 Sun rises ... 7 4 
 — sets ... 4 56 
 Twilight ends . 6 50 
 . The weather now cold enough for win- 
 ter clothing and great coats. 
 
 4BctOf)tV 29. 
 
 City Companies. 
 On the 29th of October, 1742 (being 
 Lord Mayor's Day, old style) Robert 
 Willimot, Esq., the new lord mayor of 
 London, was with the usual solemnity 
 sworn into that ofiHce at Westminster, for 
 the year ensuing. On that occasion it 
 was remarkable tliat notwithstanding the 
 common notion that a lord mayor must 
 be free of one of the twelve companies, 
 his lordship broke through that custom, 
 upon the advice of counsel that there 
 was no law for it. His lordship was of 
 the Cooper's company, and would have 
 been translated to the Clothworker's, 
 which is one of the twelve ; but his ad- 
 mission to the Clothworker's being 
 carried but by a small majority, and that 
 company having at the same time re- 
 fused him the use of their hall, he was 
 -resolved to give them no farther trouble. 
 It is only necessary that the lord mayor 
 ..for the time being should be free of one 
 of the twelve companies, in case he 
 should require to be president of the 
 Irish Committee.* Besides the discharge 
 of duties of great importance in their 
 halls, the twelve companies there uphold 
 those ancient festivities, for which they 
 have acquired especial fa,ise, and whence 
 the members of their courts derive the 
 deserved reputation of being acquainted 
 with the " alderman's walk," in the art 
 of carving. 
 
 • Maitland. 
 
 Carving. 
 [For the Year Book.]* 
 
 There is many a proverbial expression 
 which passes current with the nlultitude 
 for much less than its value ; or, if it 
 possess no deeper meaning than is vul- 
 garly attached to it, deserves to rank 
 among "the Popular Fallacies" which 
 our Elia has so cleverly and quaintly ex- 
 posed. Among the number is this one 
 — " Help yourself and your friends will 
 like you the better." This, they imagine, 
 savours stroiigly of rough hospitality ; it 
 is perpetually bubbling from the lips of 
 your " hearty good fellow ;" it is the un- 
 derstood invitation to sociality and sottish- 
 ness. 
 
 It is, in brief, as he fancies, as if he 
 said, " Come, make yourself at home ! — 
 don't sit there looking wretched and 
 watching every one imploringly, till they 
 ask you to try a bit more, or bothering 
 all the company with your officious civi- 
 lities, that they may take the hint and 
 return the compliment." 
 
 But, in truth, the expression has nothing 
 friendly about it ; it is a reproof to idleness, 
 rather than an exhortation to merriment. 
 It was the production of that golden age 
 of comfort and civilization, when every 
 man carved for himself! and implies no 
 more than this — " Help yourself, for, if 
 you do not, nobody else will !" It was a 
 maxim worthy of those primeval ages of 
 innocence and happiness, when the soli- 
 tary host had not to carve for a whole host 
 of consumers — when it was not his part 
 only to " cut," and that of the others to 
 " come again 1" 
 
 It has been observed, most truly, that 
 " We never feel so benevolent, as we do 
 when we have dined 1" but we cannot be 
 expected to exhibit much philanthropy 
 until we have arrived at that happy crisis. 
 Never can human magnanimity be more 
 severely tried, than in being required, 
 while his fat is condensing and his gravy 
 congealing (" Grave exitium," as Apicius 
 would have called it), to lend a helping 
 hand to his neighbour! 
 
 It was the custom in the primitive ages 
 (as it is to this day among unsophisticated 
 nations,* — those who have not yet learnt to 
 sacrifice the comfortable institutions of 
 their forefathers to the idols of fashion and 
 innovation) for the quests to sit at the 
 
 * See Dr. Clarke's account of a Russian 
 
 dinner. 
 
1269 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 29. 
 
 1270 
 
 table as their rank entitled them to pre- 
 cedence : the host headed the board ; a 
 post then of profit as well as honor, for it 
 was his privilege to cut off the tit-bits for 
 .himself! he then passed the dish to his 
 next neighbour, who carved it according to 
 his fancy, and pusbed it dovrti to the 
 guest below him. In the lapse of ages, 
 however, the impolicy of this practice be- 
 came apparent; the joint-^for where 
 many dined together it must have been a 
 joini-concern 1 — soon cut so sorry a figure 
 that the fastidious would be sorry to cut 
 it, after it had been first mangled by the 
 aristocracy above, then to be washed by the 
 tears of famishing plebeians was contrary to 
 all reason and religion.* But it was dif- 
 ficult, at first, to find a remedy for the 
 evil : there was no gentleman patriotic 
 enough to sacrifice both his food and his 
 first choice (as the host does now) for the 
 public benefit. In this dilemma, they 
 were obliged to entrust the important of- 
 fice of cutting and distributing the meat 
 to a servant (I should say a slave), to one 
 whose impartiality was guaranteed by the 
 impossibility of his enjoying what he 
 carved. 
 
 At first, as it may be supposed, the duty 
 was but clumsily performed ; any servant 
 would do for the occasion ; perhaps the 
 very cook that decorated the roasted pea- 
 cock with gold leaf was often. compelled 
 to join the two professions, as they are now 
 united, and be both " carver and gilder." 
 In time, however, it became a particular 
 profession ; the servant whose sole em- 
 ployment it was, in fact, was a menial 
 anatomist; he was instructed by regulat 
 professors in the science of carving, and 
 practised his art with pride and dexterity. 
 The poet Juvenal f thus introduces him : 
 " The carver^ dancing round, each dish 
 
 surveys 
 With flying knife ; and, as bis heart directs> 
 WiLh proper gesture every fowl dissects. 
 A thing of so great moment to their taste 
 That one false slip — had surely marr'd the 
 feast." 
 
 The carver, who had arrived at such 
 eminence in his profession, was, of course^ 
 to be met with only in the houses of the 
 great ; the same satirist, in a subsequent 
 place, declares that in his humble abode 
 no such proficient was to be found. 
 
 * This will both explain and justify the in- 
 dignation of AlexidemuB, at being placed at 
 the bottom of the table, at " the banquet of 
 the seven sages.'' — Plutarch. 
 
 t Satire the 5th, 
 
 " No dexterous carvers have I got, 
 " Such as by skilful Trypherus are taught ; 
 In whose famed schools the various forms 
 
 appear 
 Of fishes, beasts, and all the fowls of the air ; 
 And where^ with blunted knife, his scholars 
 
 learn 
 How to dissect, and the nice joint discern ; 
 While all the neighbourhood are with noiso 
 
 oppressed 
 From the harsh carving of his wooden feast."* 
 
 The meaning of the last two lines is liter- 
 ally "and the supper of Elmwood 
 sounds through the whole suburb." By 
 this passage we are informed that, at the 
 "schools for carving," the instructor pro- 
 duced wooden models of various victuals, 
 carved out into pieces, as the originals 
 ought to be, and fastened together, as 
 Rupert supposes, by threads or glue, 
 which the pupil had to separate with a 
 blunt instrument. 
 
 The accomplished carver had notmerely 
 to anatomise the dainty before him, but to 
 let his operations keep time to the music 
 which played throughout the dinner. 
 " The carverf (says the lively chamberlain 
 of Nero) lacerates the victuals, making 
 such gesticulations to the concert, that 
 you would think he was fighting Darius 
 while the music was playing." We can- 
 not now accurately discover what were 
 the tunes played at entertainments, but. 
 we may reasonably conjecture that they 
 were appropriate to the occasion ; " The 
 Roast Beef of Old England ."undoubtedly, 
 was one! 
 
 Aunseus Seneca, who wasted his sym- 
 pathy oil those who had no cause for sor- 
 row, lamenting the forlorn condition of 
 Roman slaves, enumerates their several 
 distressing offices.^ "Another (says he) 
 Cuts up flie precious poultry; twisting his 
 skilful hand in appointed strokes, he di- 
 vides the breasts and the backs into 
 pieces. Unhappy he who lives but for 
 this one purpose, that he may carve fat 
 fowls with neatness I" 
 
 It is utterly impossible to trace the 
 prd'gress of the science through- the 
 stormy ages that succeeded the luxurious 
 emperors of Rome. Rome perished ; and 
 civilization died, like a Hindoo widow, 
 upon its funeral pile ! Carving, perhaps, 
 fell with them ; but it rose again a 
 phoenix from the ashes (though my cock- 
 
 * Satire the 11th. 
 
 t Petronius. , 
 
 i Epistle the 47th. 
 
127t 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 29. 
 
 1272 
 
 ney friends perhaps may say carving has 
 nothing to do with hashes) in renovated 
 vigour ! After the dark curtain of the 
 middle ages was withdrawn from the 
 stage of history, we find the office of 
 carver no longer entrusted to the hands 
 of slaves, but devolved upon the highest 
 officer in the household of the knight and 
 the nobleman — " the squire." For a 
 description of this important situation I 
 must refer my readers to the page of 
 Mills,* or James,-)- or Stebbingjt it is 
 enough for me to remind them that it was 
 a post of high respectability, and responsi- 
 bilty — one frequently filled by the very 
 sons of the master of the establishment. 
 Chaucer introduces us to the son of the 
 knight, under the title of "theSquier," 
 and thus describes him : — 
 
 " Curteis he was, lowly, and servisable, 
 And car/befor his fader at the table.*' || 
 
 " The Squier" is again described in two 
 other places, in the same author, as per- 
 forming a similar duty : 
 
 " Now stood the Lordes squier atte bord, 
 That car/ his metc;"^ 
 
 and Damian, who is more femiliai to the 
 public in his more modern costume in 
 IPope's January and May, 
 " Carf befor his knight fall many a day." IT 
 
 When the duty of carving had once 
 reached this height of gentility, it had but 
 one step more to reach the summit of its 
 glory; when it had once become a post 
 of honor, and its labours were considered 
 those of affection and endearment, it of 
 course was soon dignified by the per- 
 formance of softer and fairer fingers ; it 
 soon became the pleasing office of the 
 wife or daughter ! Jt was theirs to execute 
 the tender part of selecting a tender part 
 for the happy eater. Thus did the interest- 
 ing and unfortunate Lady Isabeh ; for 
 we are told by the poet, 
 
 " Now when this lord he did come home. 
 
 For to sit down and eat. 
 He called for his daughter deare 
 
 To come and carve his meat," *' « 
 
 * History of Chivalry, vol. I. 
 < ' t Hist, of Chivalry. National Library. 
 
 t Hist, of Chivalry, Constable's Miscellany 
 vol. 1, 57. 
 
 II lutrod, to Canterbury Tales. 
 § Sompnour's Tale. 
 IT Marchant's Tale. 
 *• Tlie Lady Isabell's Tragedy. — Pcrty's 
 Relics, vol. 4. 
 
 Old Burton (an " Anatomist,*' too, in hi» 
 way) complains that in the opinion of 
 many men, a wife is a mere piece of 
 utility.* " She is fit to bear the office, go 
 vern a family, to bring up children, to sit 
 at board's end and carve." 
 
 Shakspeare, who never suffered one 
 touching trait of tenderness to escape him, 
 also alludes to this interesting custom. 
 Adriana, in her heart-rending remonstrance 
 to, the deceived and deceiving Antipholus, 
 exclaims, 
 
 " The time was once, when thou unnrged 
 
 wouldst vow 
 That never words were music to thine ear, &c. 
 - — That never meat sweet savoured to thy 
 
 taste, 
 I niess I spoke, looked, touched, or carved to 
 
 thee."t 
 
 What can be more tender ! It was, we 
 perceive, a fond and refined feeling, which 
 occasioned the custom of the Abyssinians 
 at dinner ij when every gentleman sat 
 between two ladies, who made up his 
 food into convenient mnuthfuls, and 
 stuffed it into his moutli for him. This 
 story is now fully accredited as it de- 
 serves ; and is no longer considered what 
 is vulgarly called " a cram" (i. e. a fiction) ; 
 affection, and not indolence, was the origin 
 of the amiable institution. 
 
 When the office of carving was entrust- 
 ed to the fair hands of the ladies, we may 
 well conceive it would soon be brought to 
 exquisite perfection as an accomplish- 
 ment ; and it was so. In the reign of 
 our second Charles, it appears that there 
 were regular academies for the instruction 
 of novices in this genteel and useful 
 science : — Cowley " falls into the wonder 
 and complaint of Columella, how that it 
 should come to pass," that there was no 
 professor of agriculture, while "even 
 vaulting, fencing, dancing, attiring, cook- 
 ery, carving, and such like vanities, should 
 all have public schools and masters.''|| 
 
 Instruction is by no means unnecessary, 
 in an art requiring so much manual dex- 
 terity as carving; many an exalted genius 
 could never attain to any decent expert- 
 ness. Montaigne§ among bis many im- 
 perfections, which he is so free to con- 
 fess, candidly declares, " I cannot hand- 
 somely fold up a letter, nor could ever 
 
 • Anat. of Melanch. vol. 2. 
 
 t Comedy of Errors, act 2, 9- 
 
 i Bnice's Travels. 
 
 II Essay on Agriculture. 
 
 ^ " On Presumption." 
 
1273 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBEB 30. 
 
 1274 
 
 make a pen, nor carve at table worth a 
 pin." It is not an acquirement to be 
 despised, even by the illustrious in learn- 
 ing and literature ; it was the war cry of 
 the patriotic Spaniard that he would fight 
 even "with the knife !" — it is disgraceful 
 for a gentleman to be unable to carve with 
 the instrument with which he could kill. 
 
 The polished Chesterfield is very ener'. 
 getic in forcing the attention of his son to 
 this art.* However trifling (says he) some 
 things may seem, they are no longer so, 
 when about half the world thinks them 
 otherwise. Carving, as it occurs at least 
 once in every day, is not below our notice. 
 We should use ourselves to carve adroitly 
 and genteelly," &c. 
 
 Skilful carving is not merely a sign of 
 gentility, it is also a demonstration of in- 
 genuity and acuteness, in adapting the 
 parts and pieces to the tastes and tempers 
 of the helped : — a leg for the gouty — a 
 wing for the ponderous — seasoning for the 
 inexperienced — a bit of the rare for the 
 virtuoso — a merry-thought for the melan- 
 choly ! and so forth. There is an 
 amusing Hebrew tale of a Jerusalemite,-|- 
 who had to perform " three clever things 
 as a proof of his wisdom," to entitle him 
 to claim his patrimony ; two out of the 
 three were his carving at dinner and at 
 supper. In the first instance he had to 
 distribute five chickens among the party, 
 which he did by dividing one chicken be- 
 tween the trustee of his property and his 
 wife ; " another between the two daugh- 
 ters ; the third between the two sons ; and 
 the remaining two he took for his own 
 share." He explains the reasons of this 
 partition, by alleging it was done arith- 
 metically. " Thou (says he to the master 
 of the house), thy wife, and one chicken, 
 made up the number three; thy two 
 daughters and another chicken made up 
 another three ; thy two sons and a chicken 
 made again three. To make up the last 
 number I was compelled to take the re- 
 maining chickens to myself; — for two 
 chickens and thy humble servant made 
 again three." This is something after the 
 ingenious manner of the facetious carver 
 in Joe Miller, who shared a pair of 
 chickens between himself and his two 
 friends, saying, " There is one foryoa two 
 and here's one for me too !" — ^The carving 
 of the Hebrew at supper was still more 
 subtle than at dinner ; but, as I have al- 
 
 t Principlei of Politeness. 
 X Huiwitz's Hebrew Tales, page 193. 
 
 ready been too prolix and particular, I 
 must conclude my garrulity, for fear my 
 exhausted, readers should prove their skill 
 in cavriug, by mttmg me and my memo- 
 randa for ever ! 
 
 Prometheus Percival Pipps. 
 
 October 29.— Day breaks . 
 Sun rises . . 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m, 
 . 5 U 
 . 7 6 
 . 4 54 
 . 6 49 
 
 ®ttobtv 30. 
 
 
 October 30, 1485, King Henry VII. 
 was crowned. The ceremonial was 
 hurried over with less display than was 
 customary and the usual procession at a 
 coronation through the city. He had 
 shortly before gratified the citizens with 
 his presence on his return from the vic- 
 tory of Bosworth Field ; when, upon ap- 
 proaching London he was met at Shore- 
 ditch by the mayor and his brethren, in 
 scarlet, with other worshipful citizens 
 clothed in violet ; and with great pomp 
 and triumph he rode through the city to 
 the cathedral church of St. Paul, where he 
 ofiered three standards ; one with the 
 image of St. George, another with a red 
 fiery dragon beaten upon white and 
 green sarcenet, and the third with a dun 
 cow upon yellow tartern. After prayers 
 and the singing of Te Deum, he de- 
 parted to the bishop's palace, where he 
 remained for some days. 
 
 In 1487, he was received with very 
 similar ceremonies when he came to 
 London to attend his queen's coronation. 
 He was met by the citizens at Hornsey 
 Park, and there knighted the lord mayor, 
 sir William Home. The queen, the 
 countess of Richmond, the king's mother, 
 and other ladies, were privately placed 
 to behold the show ih a house near St. 
 Mary's Hospital without Bishopsgate. 
 The livery companies lined the street; 
 and at St. Paul's the king was received 
 by the archbishop of Canterbury and 
 other prelates. At his entrance into the 
 cathedral he was censed with the great 
 censers of St. Paul's by an angel who 
 came out from the roof. After offering 
 at the customary places within the 
 church, he went to the bishop's palace to 
 lodge. 
 
 The queen herself, accompanied by the 
 countess of Richmond and many lords 
 and ladies, had previously arrived from 
 
1275 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCtOBER 31. 
 
 1276 
 
 Greenwicn by water. The mayor, 
 sheriffs, and aldermen, vrith several 
 worshipful commoners, chosen out of 
 every craft, in their liveries, had waited 
 on the river to recei'-e her. Their barges 
 were freshly furnished with banners and 
 streamers of silk, richly beaten with the 
 arms and badges of their crafts ; and es- 
 pecially one called the bachelor's barge 
 was garnished and apparelled beyond all 
 others. In it was a dragon spouting 
 flames of fire into the Thames, and many 
 other " gentlemanly pageants, " well and 
 curiously devised to give her highness 
 sport and pleasure. And so, accom- 
 panied with trumpets, clarions, and other 
 minstrels, she came and landed at the 
 Tower, and was there welcomed by the 
 king. On the following day she went 
 through London to Westminster, aparelled 
 in white cloth of gold of damask, with a 
 mantle of the same furred with erinine, 
 fastened before her breast with a great 
 lace of gold and silk, and rich knobs of 
 gold tasseled at the ends ; her fair yellow 
 hair hanging down plain behind her batk, 
 with a cawl of pipes over it, and con- 
 fined only on the forehead by a circlet of 
 gold, ornamented with precious stones. 
 On her passage to her litter, her train was 
 borne by her sister Cecily. The litter was 
 covered with white cloth of gold, and 
 furnished with large pillows of down 
 covered with the same, and supported by 
 twelve knights of the body, who changed 
 by four and four at stated points. The 
 streets through which the procession 
 passed were cleansed, and dressed with 
 cloths of tapestry and arras, and some 
 streets, as Cheap, hung with rich cloth of 
 gold, velvet, and silk ; and along the 
 streets, from the Tower to St. Paul's, 
 stood in order all the crafts of London in 
 their liveries ; and in various places were 
 ordained singing children, some arrayed 
 like angels, and others like virgins, to 
 sing sweet songs a? her grace passed by. 
 Next before the lit*er rode the duke of 
 Bedford, the king's uncle, as high steward 
 of England, and many other noblemen, 
 among, whom went the mayor of London 
 with Garter king of arms. There were 
 also foarteen newly created knights of 
 the Bath in their blue bachelor gowns. 
 After the litter went sir Roger Colton, 
 the queen's master of the horse, leading 
 a horse of estate, with a woman's saddle 
 of red cloth of gold tissue; six hench- 
 men riding on white palfreys, with 
 saddles to match the saddle of estate^ and 
 
 their armour ornamented with roses and 
 suns, the badge of Edward IV.; then two 
 chariots covered with cloth of gold, the 
 former containing the duchess of Bed- 
 ford and the lady Cecily, and the other 
 the duchess of Norfolk, the duchess of 
 Suffolk, and the countess of Oxford; then 
 six baronesses in one suit of crimson 
 velvet, upon fair palfreys, caparisoned 
 like the horses of the henchmen; then 
 two more chariots; and, lastly, the re- 
 mainder of the queen's ladies on palfreys, 
 who were wonderfully richly bedecked 
 with great beads and chains of gold 
 about their necks.* 
 
 October SO.^Day breaks . . 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 — sets . . . 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 h. m. 
 
 5 13 
 7 8 
 4 52 
 
 6 47 
 
 <}!^ttoUV 31. 
 
 Latino the Witches. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 
 Sib, 
 
 Amongst the customs of Lancashire 
 which have come under my own know- 
 ledge there is one, almost obsolete when 
 I saw it, perhaps now quite so ; for it had 
 its origin in a superstition that has nearly 
 died away even with the vulgar. It was 
 called " Latingf the Witches," and was 
 observed on the eve preceding the 1st of 
 November, when they are presumed to 
 make their appearance " for the season ;" 
 the exact time of. its cjose and their de- 
 parture, after doing all the mischief they 
 can, I forget. Whether the custom was" 
 confined to Longridge Fell, where I wit- 
 nessed it, or not, I cannot tell ; but aS 
 nearly as I can recollect, after a lapse of 
 thirteen years, and being then but a child 
 of ten, 1 will relate it to you. 
 
 I was then visiting at the house of a 
 relation resident at the Fell : three mem- 
 bers of the family were ill at the time, 
 two of whom died within a few months 
 after; and, child-like, I was delighted 
 when, on the afternoon of the 31st of 
 October, the monotonous gloom of our 
 existence was broken upon by a troop of 
 boys, girls, and old women, with Alice 
 Becketh, the most famous old woman 
 about for gingerbread and fairy tales, at 
 
 • London Pageants, 1331, 8vo. p. 23. 
 t Seeking. 
 
127T 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 31. 
 
 1S78 
 
 the head of them, knocking at my uncle's 
 gate. They were answered in the first 
 instance by the man employed in the 
 yard, who being himself a stranger to the 
 place, and deeming their request an 
 absurdity, told them to go about their 
 business; but, my uncle having caught a 
 glimpse of them, the affair became more 
 serious. 
 
 " Bless me," cried my uncle, " it is 
 Latins; night, and your poor aunt has 
 forgot to prepare Ailce s lights : run 
 Annie, and bring them all up to the 
 door." 
 
 Run I did fast enough, and escorted 
 the whole party to the threshold^ which 
 Ailce mould not have crossed for worlds 
 until after her return from Lating, and 
 not then if her candle had gone out. 
 
 I now found it was the custom on that 
 day to call at every considerable house in 
 the neighbourhood and ask for Lating 
 candles, of which they receive in number 
 according to the number of inmates; 
 these candles the persons they are meant 
 to represent may themselves carry, or 
 resign to a deputy, whose services on the 
 occasion most however be voluntary. 
 My uncle's family were soon provided 
 with proxies. Harry, one of my cousins, 
 a sturdy spoilt urchin, no older thskn my- 
 self declared he vruuld carry his light 
 himself. 
 
 " Master Allan want go lating himself 
 this year?" enquired Ailce. My uncle 
 shook his head and no one enquired 
 further. 
 
 "I will carry Allan's light," cried I 
 and another in the same breath, and, on 
 turning to examine the speaker, I beheld 
 the ill-favored knavish countenance of 
 Laithwaye Oates, a Preston boy, about 
 eighteen years old, and, although belong- 
 ing to respectable parents, a wild, wan- 
 dering, homeless being, famous all the 
 country round for idiotical fun, mischief, 
 and almost unearthly ugliness. After a 
 short contention with my uncle, and a 
 still shorter one with Laithwaye, who 
 disappointed of my cousin's light offered 
 to carry mine, it was agreed that Harry 
 and I should be ready to join the Lating 
 party at 11 o'clock at night, the hour at 
 which they would finally call for us and 
 the lights. 
 
 At eleven therefore we sallied forth, 
 each with a large lighted candle, in the 
 direction of Lancaster. Our number 
 might not exceed thirty, and, as I kept 
 close to Ailce for the purpose of belter 
 
 knowing how I was to conduct myself, I 
 had an opportunity of learning what I 
 now communicate. 
 
 The custom originated in the belief 
 that if a lighted candle v\ras carried about 
 the Fell from 11 to 12 o'clock at night, 
 and it burnt all that time steadily, it had 
 so far triumphed over the evil power of 
 the witches, who would try all they could 
 to blow it out, and the person it repre- 
 sented might safely defy their malice 
 during the season ; but, if by any accident 
 the candle went out, it was an omen of 
 evil to its representative. It was deemed 
 unlucky too to cross the threshold of the 
 person for whom you carried the light 
 until after the return from lating, and not 
 then unless the candle had preserved 
 itself alight. 
 
 On the particular night I am alluding 
 to, an unforeseen and unavoidable acci- 
 dent, though a very natural one as it was 
 esteemed afterwards, prevented our as- 
 certaining the exact limits of the witches' 
 power for the time being. After scouring 
 the dells and dingles for about half an 
 hour, during which time our candles had 
 burnt well and steadily, for it was a clear 
 still night, all on a sudden, one by one, 
 with not above five minutes' intermission 
 between each, they all went out, Young 
 as I was, and credulous even to the full 
 belief of all I had lately heard respecting 
 the evil power of the witches over our 
 candles, I could not avoid bursting into a 
 fit of laughter, as I saw our lights dis- 
 appear one after the other, as if by magic, 
 and beheld the dismayed faces of the old 
 woman and her troop, looking first at 
 their lightless candles, and then at each 
 other, afraid to utter a word. A strange 
 feeling came over me — I remember it as 
 well as if it were but yesterday — a kind of 
 triumph over my affrighted companions, 
 amounting to a feeling of fellowship 
 with the wild frolicsome beings who I 
 imagined at the moment had so discom- 
 fited them and delighted me. I almost 
 longed to shake hands with them ; but 
 the illusion lasted not long, for Ailce 
 found that her candle had four small pins 
 stuck across it at the point where it went 
 out, and, on examining the rest, they 
 were all found to be in the same con- 
 dition. There was no occasion to ask 
 who was the author of this mischief; no, 
 Laithwaye Oates was too well known, and 
 all the subsequent surprise was that he 
 should ever have been trusted. Poor 
 Laithwaye ! I never saw him after. 
 
1279 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 31. 
 
 1280 
 
 This is all I remember of the custom, 
 and probably I should not have recol- 
 lected so much, had not the frolic, and the 
 hobgoblin face of Laithwaye Oates been 
 connected with it. I left Longridge Fell 
 a few months after, and Lai^cashire 
 altogether within the year, and never had 
 another opportunity of seeing or hearing 
 of it, for even in Preston it wasunknown. 
 But there are some old women about the 
 Fell, as well as young ones, who will re- 
 member somewhat of this. Alice Becketh 
 indeed, who might be termed the reviver 
 of the custom that perhaps died with 
 her, is dead ; and even Laithwaye, poor 
 Laithwaye Oates, he too has — 
 
 " Passed from earth away." 
 
 Perhaps the custom may be more prer 
 valent than I have hitherto imagined it to 
 have been, but I have heard my uncle 
 speak of it as one of which he had heard 
 in his childhood that it had long gone by, 
 and, but for him and Ailce Becketh, I 
 might never have seen it at the Fell ; for 
 the old woman firmly believed in its pre- 
 vailing efficacy against witches, and my 
 uncle loved to encourage her and the 
 custom, while he laughed at both as in- 
 nocent and absurd. 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 Annie Milner. 
 
 June, 1831. 
 
 Corpse Caudles. 
 
 Mr. Brand says, on the authority of 
 captain Grose, that corpse candles are 
 very common appearances in the counties 
 of Cardigan, Caermarthen, and Pem- 
 broke, and also in some other parts of 
 Wales. They are called candles, from 
 their resemblance not of the body of the 
 candle, but the fire ; because that fire says 
 an honest Welshman, Mr. Davis, in a 
 letter to Mr. Baxter, doth as much re- 
 semble material candle lights, as eggs do 
 eggs : saving that, in their journey, these 
 candles are sometimes visible and some- 
 times disappear, especially if any one 
 comes near to them, or in the way to 
 meet them. On these occasions they 
 vanish, but presently appear again behind 
 the observer and hold on their course. 
 If a little candle is seen, of a pale bluish 
 colour, then follows the corpse, either of 
 an abortive, or some infant : if a larger 
 one, then the corpse of some one come to 
 age. If there be seen two, three, or 
 
 more, of different sizes, some big, some 
 small, then shall so many corpses pass 
 together and of such ages or degrees. If 
 two candles come from different places, 
 and be seen to meet, the corpses will do 
 the same ; and if any of these candles be 
 seen to turn aside, through some by-path, 
 leading to the church, the following 
 corpse will be found to take exactly the 
 same way. Sometimes these candles 
 point out the places where persons shall 
 sicken and die. They have also pre- 
 dicted the drowning of persons passing a 
 ford. All this is affirmed by Mr. Davis. 
 
 Another kind of fiery apparition pe- 
 culiar to Wales is what is called the 
 tan-we or tanwed. This appeareth, says 
 Mr. Davis, to our seeming, in the lower 
 region of the air, straight and long, not 
 much unlike a glaive. It moves or shoots 
 directly and level (as who should say I'll 
 hit), but far more slowly than falling 
 stars. It lighteneth all the air and ground 
 where it passeth, lasteth three or four 
 miles or more, for aught is known, be- 
 cause no man seeth the rising or beginning 
 of it ; and, when it falls to the ground, it 
 sparkleth and lighteth all about. These 
 commonly announce ih". death or de- 
 cease of freeholders by falling on their 
 lands; and you shall scarce bury any 
 such with us, says Mr. Davis, be he but 
 a lord of a house and garden, but you 
 shall find some one at his burial that 
 hath seen this fire fall on some part of his 
 lands. 
 
 According to the same worthy Mr. 
 Davis, these appearances have been 
 seen by the person whose death they 
 foretold : two instances of which Mr. 
 Davis records as having happened in his 
 own family. Also, in the " Cambrian Re- 
 gister, 8vo., 1796," p. 431, we read of 
 " A very commonly-received opinion, that 
 within the diocese of St. David's, a short 
 space before death, a light is seen pro- 
 ceeding from the house, and sometimes, 
 as has been asserted, from the very bed 
 where the sick person lies, and pursues 
 its way to the church where he or she is 
 to be interred, precisely in the same 
 track in which the funeral is afterwards 
 to follow. This light is called carmyll 
 corptf or the corpse candle.'' 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 October 31. — Daybreaks . 
 
 . 5 15 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 7 9 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 4 51 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 45 
 
1381 1381 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK—NOVEMBER. 
 
 1383 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 41. 
 
 At length it i:omes among the forest oaks, 
 
 With sobbing ebbs, and uproar gathering high ; 
 The scared, hoarse raven on its cradle croaks, 
 And stocHdbve-flocks in hurried terrors fly, 
 While the blu6 haVvk hangs o'er them in the sky. — 
 The hedget hastens from the storm begun. 
 To seek a shelter that may keep him'dry; 
 And foresters low bent, the wind to shun, 
 
 Scarce hear amid the strife the poacher's muttermg gun. 
 
 2 T 
 
1283 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-NOVEMBER. 
 
 1284 
 
 The plougliman hears its humming rage begin, 
 
 And hies for shelter from his naked toil ; 
 
 Buttoning his doublet closer to his chin, 
 
 He bends and scampers o'er the elting soil, 
 
 While clouds above him in wild fury boil, 
 
 And winds drive heavily the beating rain ; 
 
 He turns his back to catch hiSt breath awhile, 
 
 Then ekes his speed and faces it again, 
 To seek the shepherd's hut beside the rushy plain. 
 
 The boy, fnat scareth from the spiry wheat 
 
 The melancholy crow — in hurry weaves, 
 
 Beneath an ivied tree, his sheltering seat. 
 
 Of rushy flags and sedges tied in sheaves, 
 
 Or from the field a shock of stubble thieves. 
 
 There he doth dithering sit, and entertain 
 
 His eyes with marking the storm-drivenleaves; 
 
 Oft spying nests where he spring eggs had ta'en. 
 And wishing in his he^rt 'twas summer-time again. 
 
 Clare's Shepherd's Calendar. 
 
 In tne " Raven's Almanacke for 1609," 
 by Thomas Decker, there is a quaint 
 description " Of Autumne, or the fall of 
 the leaje" — the season which continues 
 into this month — "Autumne, the Barber 
 of the yeare, tbat sheares bushes, hedges, 
 and trees ; the ragged prodigall that con- 
 sumes al and leaves himself nothing; the 
 arrantest beggar amongst al the foure 
 quarters, and the most diseased, as being 
 alwaies troubled with the falling sick- 
 nesse ; this murderer of the Spring, this 
 theef to Summer, and bad companion to 
 Winter ; seemes to come in according to 
 his old custome, when the Sun sits like 
 Justice with a pair of scales in his hand, 
 weying no more houres to the day then 
 he does to the night, as he did before in 
 his vernall progresse, when he rode on a 
 Ham ; but this bald-pated Autumnus 
 wil be seen walking up and down groves, 
 medows, fields, woods, parks and pas- 
 tures, blasting of fiuites, and beating 
 leaves from their trees, when common 
 high-wayes shall be strewed with boughes 
 in mockery of Summer and in triumph 
 ot ner death ; and when the doores of 
 Usurers shall be strewed with greene 
 liearbs, to doe honour to poor Brides that 
 have no dowrie (but their honestie) to 
 their marriage : when the world lookes 
 like olde Chaos, and that Plentie is turned 
 into Penurie, and beautie into uglinesse : 
 when Men ride (the second time) to 
 Bathe — and when unthriftes fly amongst 
 Hen-sparrowes, yet bring home all the 
 feathers they carried out : Then say that 
 Autumne raignes, then is the true fall of 
 the leafe, because the world and the yeare 
 turne over a new leafe.' 
 
 From these amusing conceits we turji 
 for better thoughts to the following in- 
 structive passages by Dr. Drake in his 
 " Evenings in Autnmn": — 
 
 No period of the year is better entitled 
 to the appellation of The Season of Philo- 
 sophic Enthusiasm, than the close of 
 Autumn. There is in the aspect of every 
 thing which surrounds us, as the sun is 
 sinking below the horizon, on a fine even- 
 ing of October (or November), all that 
 can hush the troubled passions to repose, 
 yet all which, at the same time, is calculated 
 to elevate the mind, and awaken the imagi- 
 nation. The gently agitated and refreshing 
 state of the atmosphere, though at inter- 
 vals broken in upon by the fitful and pro- 
 tracted moaning of the voiceful wind ; the 
 deep brown shadows which are gradually 
 enveloping the many-coloured woods, 
 and diffusing over the extended landscape 
 a solemn and not unpleasing obscurity ; 
 the faint and farewell music of the latest 
 warblers, and the waning splendor of the 
 western sky, almost insensibly dispose 
 the intellectual man to serious and sub- 
 lime associations. It is then we people 
 the retiring scene with more than earthly 
 forms ; it is then we love 
 
 to listen tn the hollow sigh's 
 Through the half-leafless wood that breathes 
 
 the gale. 
 For at such hours the shadowy phantom pale 
 Oft seems to fleet before the Poet's eyes ; 
 Straage. sounds ace heard, and mournful 
 melodies 
 As of night-wanderers who their woes bewail. 
 Charlotte Smith. 
 
128'. 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— N0\' EMBER. 
 
 1386 
 
 It is scarcely possible not to prostrate 
 ourselves with deep humility before the 
 ilirone of that Almighty being who 
 jvields, directs, and limits the career of 
 an element which, if let loose on this 
 irm globe, would winnow it to dust. 
 
 When we behold the birds that wing 
 heir way through this immeasurable void, 
 hrough what vast tracts and undiscovered 
 mths they seek their distant food ; with 
 vhat love and gratitude should we not 
 •eflect, that if he in mercy has become 
 "heir pilot and their guide, how much 
 nore will he prove to us a sure and never 
 'ailing protector. 
 
 And when we turn our eyes from earth, 
 ts falling leaves and fading aspect, its 
 gathering gloom and treacherous meteors, 
 'o that great and glorious vault where 
 "iiirn the steady lamps of heaven, or 
 >«heFe, shooting into interminable space, 
 low streams of inextinguishable lustre, 
 «e are almost instinctively reminded, that 
 aere our days are numbered, that on this 
 iow planet brief is the time the oldest 
 Deing lives, and that, passing from this 
 transitory state, we are destined to pur- 
 <ue our course in regions of ever-during 
 light, in worlds of nevei-changing beauty. 
 
 It is owing to these, and similar le- 
 Hections, which it has been the business 
 (if this paper to accumulate, that autumn 
 
 has been ever felt as more peculiarly the 
 Season of Religious Hope. Amid vicis- 
 situde and decay, amid apparent ruin and 
 destruction, we behold the seeds of life 
 and renovation ; for he who pervades and 
 dwells with all things', the unchangeable 
 and immortal Spirit, has so ordained the 
 course of organized nature, that not only 
 is life the precursor of death, but the 
 latter is essential to the renewal of ex- 
 istence, a chain and catenation, a cycle, as 
 it were, of vitality, which tells us, in the 
 strongest language of analogy, that if such 
 seem the destiny of irrational nature, if 
 thus she die to live again, how assured 
 should be the hope of intellectual being. 
 To him who views the temporary deso- 
 lation of the year with no consolatory 
 thought — who sees iiot, in the seeming 
 ruin which surrounds him, any hope or 
 emblem of a better world, who hears 
 not the accents of dying nature responding 
 to the voice of revelation, and telling of 
 a Spring beyond the grave — to him 
 who is insensible to reliances such as 
 tliese, to hopei which can whisper peace, 
 and soothe the evils of mortality, how 
 stale, flat, and unprofitable must appear 
 all the uses of this feverish existence. 
 He may be told, in the language of the 
 poet, in the language of faitli and heart- 
 felt consolation, 
 
 To you the beauties of the autumnal year 
 
 Make mournful emblems, and you think of. man 
 
 Doom'd to the grave's long winter, spirit broke. 
 
 Bending beneath the burden of his years, 
 
 Sense-duU'd and fretful, full of aches and pains, 
 
 Yet clinging still to life. To me they show 
 
 The calm decay of nature, when the mind 
 
 Retains its strength, and in the languid eye 
 
 Religion's holy hopes kindle a joy 
 
 That makes old age look lovely. All to you 
 
 Is dark and cheerless ; you in this fair world 
 
 See some destroying principle abroad, 
 
 Air, earth, and water full of living things 
 
 Each on the other preying ; and the ways 
 
 Of man, a strange perplexing labyrinth. 
 
 Where crimes and miseries, each producing each. 
 
 Render life loathsome, and destroy the hope 
 
 That should in death bring comfort, (jh, my friend, 
 
 That thy foith were as mine ! that thou could'st see 
 
 Death still producing life, and evil still 
 
 Working its own destruction; could'st behold 
 
 The strifes and tumults of this troubled world 
 
 With the strong eye that sees the promised day 
 
 Dawn thro' this night of tempest 1 all things then 
 
 Would minister to joy ; then should thine heart 
 
 Be healed and harmonized, and thou should'st feel 
 
 God, always, every where, and all in all. 
 
 Sottthey. 
 2 T 2 
 
1287 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— NOViliViBER 1. 
 
 1288 
 
 Alimentary Calendab. 
 
 Though November is proverbially the 
 gloomiest month in the year, it is conspi- 
 cuously rich in beef, mutton, veal, pork, 
 and house-lamb, as well as in fish, 
 poultry, game, and wild fowl. , Thus, by 
 an admirable provision in the economy 
 of nature, at the season when the human 
 appetite is increasing in strength, the 
 means of gratifying it are multiplied. 
 Among the infinite variety of dishes 
 formed, or compounded of these elements, 
 it is difficult to distinguish any one which 
 peculiarly belongs to this division of the 
 year; the diiference of taste or choice 
 being most observable at the period when 
 its objects are most diversified. Yet pork 
 during the winter months is in universal 
 vequest, not only as being of itself an 
 jxcellent plain dish either roast or boiled, 
 but as affording the chief ingredient in 
 the composition of sausages, &c. When 
 boiled its usual escort is peas-pudding. 
 Hare-soup may be noticed as a rich and 
 seasonable luxury. There is now also a 
 great consumption of oysters, as well in 
 their simple state as scolloped, stewed, 
 roasted, or served up in sauce for fowls, 
 l:!eef-steaks, &c. 
 
 The season for sprats commences on 
 Lord Mayor's day, the 9th ot November, 
 which is more eminently distinguished by 
 the magnificent and sumptuous dinner 
 given in Guildhall, in honor of the new 
 chief magistrate of the city of London, 
 when the choicest dishes in season, and 
 every delicacy which wealth can procure, 
 or culinary skill devise, are produced in 
 a style worthy the great occasion. 
 
 Vegetapx-e Garden Directory. 
 Sow 
 
 Early peas and mazagan beans ; also 
 short-topped radish ; to be covered with 
 litter during hard frosts. 
 
 Plant 
 For seed, cabbage-stalks, also beet-root 
 and carrot. 
 
 Transplant 
 August-sown cabbage plants. 
 
 Earth tip 
 Brocoli, cauliflower, and cabbage 
 rlants effectually, drawing the earth close 
 about the stems, and placing it ridge- 
 ways, but not so high aS to' bury any leaf- 
 stalks. 
 
 2'nke up 
 Beet-roots, carrots, parsneps, and some 
 celery ; remove them to a dry cellar, or 
 bury them in sand. 
 
 Dress 
 Artichoke and asparagus beds. 
 
 Routine culture. 
 Dig and trench vacant ground in the 
 driest weather that the season will afford. 
 Remove and protect endive, celery, also 
 Cape brocoli and autumnal cauliflowers, 
 by placing them in an out-house, im- 
 mersed in sand to the lower extremities of 
 the flower stems, where they ramify from 
 the stalk. By such means, these choice 
 vegetables may be had during the depth 
 of winter. 
 
 All Saints, on All Hallows. 
 
 Mr. Britton observes, in his " Cathe- 
 dral Antiquities," that many popish super- 
 stitions are visible throughout all the 
 principality of Wales. In the county of 
 Monmouth, more particularly, a custom 
 prevails among the lower classes of the 
 inhabitants, both catholics and protestants, 
 of begging bread for the souls of the 
 departed on the first of November, or 
 All Saints day : the bread thus distributed 
 is called dole bread. Another ancient 
 custom is still prevalent in Monmouth- 
 shire, that of strewing the graves of the 
 departed and the church-yard with flowers 
 and evergreens, on festive and holy days. 
 
 November 1, 1726, died Lewis Maxi- 
 milian Mahomet, a Turk, who had been 
 taken by the Imperialists in Hungary, 
 with Mustapha, his countryman. Ma- 
 homet was supposed to be the son of a 
 bashaw. They both went into the service 
 of George Lewis, then electoral prince of 
 Hanover, whose life they are supposed to 
 have saved, at the raising of the siege of 
 Vienna, in 1685, when the prince was 
 wounded. This mussulman became a 
 christian, and received his baptismal 
 name of Lewis from his patron, who was 
 one of his godfathers, and Maximilian, 
 from the prince Maximilian, who also 
 honored him as a sponsor. When prince 
 George Lewis ascended the British throne 
 as George I., Mahomet and Mustapha 
 came with him to England, and the 
 former was always about the royal per- 
 son. By some they are called pages of 
 the back stairs ; by others, attendants in 
 
1289 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER I. 
 
 129» 
 
 the privy chamber. They certainly were 
 admitted into great familiarity, and their 
 influence was so great, that, in a dispatch 
 of Count Broglio to the king of France, 
 they are mentioned as possessing a large 
 share of His Majesty's confidence. — 
 These two foreigners," says Mr. Coxe, 
 '' obtained considerable suras of money 
 for recommending to places." Mahomet 
 died of a dropsy, and in the " Historical 
 Register" he is called, " valet de chambre 
 to His Majesty." He left a family by a 
 Hanoverian of good birth, who survived 
 him, and well provided for them. It has 
 been asserted, upon good authority, that 
 after Mahomet came to England, he paid 
 the debts of above three hundred persons 
 who lay confined for petty sums, and re- 
 leased them from prison. Forty years, 
 attendance upon courts, those nurseries 
 of flattery and deceit, made not the least 
 impression upon him. " He deserved 
 power, for no other acts of his are known, 
 than those of beneficence and humanity, 
 which, upon every occasion, he exercised 
 in their full degree. In him the dis- 
 tressed never wanted a friend. Never did 
 he burden the royal ear with complaints ; 
 nor ever presume to ask a favor, though 
 at the most awful distance, for himself.'.' 
 Pope thus records. Mahomet's worth in a 
 poetical epistle : — 
 From peer or bishop 'tis no easy thing 
 To draw the man who loves his God or king. 
 Alas ! I copy (or my draught would fail) 
 From Honest Mah'met, or plain Parson Hale. 
 
 There is a portrait of Mahomet, and 
 another of Mustapha, on the great stair- 
 case of Kensington-palace, painted by 
 Kent.* 
 
 JOHN FRANSHAM, 
 OF Norwich. 
 
 JohnFransham, a learned and eccentric 
 schoolmaster at Norwich,' was born in 
 that city in March 1730, and died there on 
 the 1 St of February, 1810. His father was 
 sexton of St. George's parish ; and there 
 he was educated as boys in his condition 
 usually are, with the addition of Latin 
 from Mr. Pagan : in consideration of his 
 dawning talents, he derived much gra- 
 tuitous instruction from Dr. John Taylor. 
 While quite a boy he composed some 
 sermons, which the Rev. Dr. Salter, then 
 
 • Noble. ; 
 
 minister of St. George's, presented to the 
 dean, who expressed his approbation of- 
 their language and manner. He applied 
 himself to a course of preparatory study 
 for the University, with a view to go into 
 the chur£h, in which design he was en- 
 couraged by pecuniary aid from a relation, 
 who promised to continue it while be re- 
 mained at college. Before Fransham 
 could be entered, this relation died ; and, 
 his friends not being able to aflbrd even 
 his ordinary maintenance, he was placed 
 with another relation, a cooper, at Wy- 
 mondham, to learn the art and mystery of 
 making - tubs and barrels. He deserted 
 this employment in about three weeks, 
 and resorted to various expedients for 
 maintaining himself by his pen. None 
 of tliese were successful, and, on his father 
 observing that he could not supply him 
 with clothing, for that in the article of 
 shoes only he had of late been very ex- 
 pensive, the son immediately resolved to 
 discard shoes and stockings. His perr 
 sistence in this resolution for nearly three 
 years, with other eccentricities, induced 
 his father to suspect that his intellects 
 were disordered. This was a mistake.— 
 Fransham was prevailed on to accept the 
 situation of writing clerk in the office of 
 Mr. Marshall, an attorney, where he 
 found little of philosophy or literature, in 
 compensation for laborious confinement 
 and monotonous drudgery. He quitted 
 the attorney's to learn weaving under 
 Daniel Wright, a journeyman, with whom 
 he continued two years, and supported 
 himself almost wholly by the loom, , 
 
 There was a peculiar bent in Franr 
 sham's inclinations. He had early re^r 
 solved to devote himself to philosophy 
 and the muses, and detested every species 
 of manual employment whjch hindered 
 him from either thinking or conversing 
 upon his favorite subjects. The hammer 
 of the cooperage, and. the copying of con^ 
 veyances, restrained him from both, but, 
 as a weaver, he was happy. Daniel 
 Wright was after his own heart-^a self- 
 taught man of talent, unaided by the 
 smiles of fortune or the assistance of the 
 great. Wright had acquired considerable 
 knowledge, and reflected deeply. Fran- 
 sham used to say he was one who could 
 discourse well on the " nature and fitness 
 of thin'gs — he possessed a, fine philpso- 
 phical spirit — a soul well purified fronj 
 vulgar errors." The nature of tljeir em- 
 ployment allowed them to converse to- 
 gether for several hours in., the day. 
 
T291 
 
 THE YKAR BOOK—NOVEMBER 1. 
 
 1393 
 
 Fransham placed hia loom opposite to 
 Wright's, aiid while at their occupation 
 they discoursed without interruption to 
 their employment. Wright died; and 
 Fransham was again unsettled. lie lost 
 a friend of kindred spirit, who stimulated 
 his eixertions, encouraged his progress, 
 and rewarded his labors : and, soon after 
 this bereavement, Fransham formed the 
 resolution of visiting the Highlands. He 
 had acquired a high esteem for the Scottish 
 character, and seemed to consider Scot- 
 land as a country happily placed between 
 riches and poverty. He was now about 
 eighteen, and he desired to place himself 
 under able professors of the University of 
 Edinburgh or Glasgow, as long as his 
 finances would permit, and afterwards 
 explore the Highlands. He strolled to 
 Yarmouth, whence he embarked for 
 North Shields, with an intention of walk- 
 ing to the Highlands ; but at Newcastle 
 his means of proceeding failed, and there 
 he enlisted for a soldier into the Old 
 Buffs, from which regiment he was soon 
 discharged, because he was too bandy- 
 legged' for the service. Without further 
 resources he could not go to Scotland ; 
 and he walked back to Norwich, with 
 three haJf-pence in this pocket, and a 
 plaid he had bought on the way. It was 
 probably about this time that — strange to 
 say — Fransham joined a company of 
 strolling players, who were accustomed to 
 perform in a barn at Aylesham, in Nor- 
 folk. He was deemed the fittest person 
 to perform Acasto, in the Orphan— 
 Foigard in the Beaux Stratagem — lago in 
 Othello — and Shylock in the Merchant 
 of Venice. The performances did not 
 " draw," and the manager paid his com- 
 pany with turnips. Fransham had prof- 
 fered his services for whatever value the 
 manager might set upon them. He ex- 
 ])ressed himself perfectly satisfied with tur- 
 nips and water, till one of the performers, 
 aware of Fransham's honesty and his 
 rising merits as an actor, told him the 
 turnips were stolen from the neighbouring 
 fields. It proved to be a fact, and 
 Fransham indignantly threw up his ar- 
 
 fransham now engaged himself as a 
 private tutor to the children of Mr. 
 Leman, a farmer at Hellesdon : this was 
 about the year 1750. At the end of two 
 or three years this source of support failed 
 him, and he once more had recourse to 
 the occupation of writing for attorneys 
 and authors. In this lalter capacity, he 
 
 was Employed by the Rev. Samuel 
 Bourne, formerly minister of the Octagon 
 Chapel at Norwich. He was then twenty- 
 four years of age, and became a member of 
 a society established about that period in 
 Norwich, among men t)f original minds 
 and small incomes, for their mutual im- 
 provement in mathematics and experi- 
 mental philosophy. There he formed an 
 acquaintance with John Barnard, a humble 
 weaver, distinguished for high attainments 
 in the mathematical sciences ; and with 
 Clover, a skilful veterinary surgeon, who 
 excelled in mathematics and natural phi- 
 losophy. Clover's knowledge of mathe- 
 matics was superior to that of Fransham, 
 but Fransham was Clover's superior in 
 the classics ; they discovered that they 
 could be of service to each other, and 
 formed a friendly connexion. At Clover's 
 farriery they worked Latin exercises, and 
 mathematical problems, upon a slate hung 
 against the fo^e. Thus each was tutor 
 and pupil to the other: After correcting 
 a theme, or discussing the properties of 
 the circle, Fransham earned his frugal 
 meal by conducting home the horses 
 which Clover had shod. The meal was 
 not, however, bestowed as a reward for 
 this sort of service. His kindness to 
 animals in general, and his attachment to 
 horses in particular, prompted him to 
 earnestly entreat that he might be allowed 
 the liberty of leading home — for he would 
 not be so cruel as to ride — the horses 
 after they were shod, that he might save 
 them from sufferings he had often seen 
 inflicted. His constant and kisd per- 
 formance of this duty procured him the 
 ill will of Clover's workmen, and for this 
 offensive humanity they avenged them- 
 selves by purposely throwing hot horse- 
 shoes about the shop, with which Fran- 
 sham, owing to the nakedness of his feet, 
 several times burnt himself. His suffer- 
 ings on these occasions convinced him 
 that he must either wear shoes and stock- 
 ings, or forego the pleasure of befriending 
 his favorite animals; and, rather than 
 forego the pleasures of pure benevolence, 
 he submitted to once more cover his legs 
 and feet. The torture which he saw at 
 Clover's, by what he emphatically deno- 
 minated in his writings "the English, but 
 brutal and barbarous customs of Korse- 
 docking and horse-nicking," filled him 
 with astonishment and horror; and the 
 adoption or rejection of the practice, by 
 any individual, was to him a criterion of 
 the character of the man ; insomuch, ihal 
 
1293 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBEa 1. 
 
 t394 
 
 being once asked, during a contest for 
 members of pariiameat, which of the can- 
 didates he would vote for if he had a 
 vote, he replied, '' I would vote for him 
 who has humanity enough to drive long- 
 tailed horses." 
 
 From this time, about 1760 to im, 
 Fransham continued to support himself 
 by occasionally assisting authors and 
 attorneys, and giving lessons in the classics 
 and mathematics. During this period 
 the Chute family, with whom Fransham's 
 sister lived as housekeeper, allowed him 
 to sleep in their Norwich hous6, and to 
 use their library. One morning early, 
 while in bed, he thought he distinctly 
 heard young Mr. Chute call him; and, 
 on the repetition of the voice, dressed 
 himself, and went down stairs to meet 
 him. He neither found that gentleman nor 
 any one else,and very composedly returned 
 to his rest. On mentioning the circum- 
 stance to his sister, she predicted the 
 death of the young Mr. Chute, who had 
 been for some time indisposed at Picken- 
 ham ; and in a few hours afterwards they 
 received information that he had died 
 during the preceding night. By Mr. 
 Chute's death he was deprived of a mate- 
 rial portion of support. He had very 
 little business from attorneys, no employ- 
 ment from authors, and scarcely a single 
 private pupiL His income was not equal 
 to his wants, and, to prepare for the worst 
 possible condition, he tried with how little 
 expense he could sustain nature. Every 
 day he bought a fiirthing's-worth of pota- 
 toes, and, having previously purchased a 
 ferthing's-worth of- salt, he reserved one 
 potatoe from his daily stock, as a com- 
 pensation for the salt which he ate with 
 the remainder. By boiling the potatoes 
 at the fire of the host with whom he 
 lodged, and by making a dinner his only 
 meal, he maintained himself for some 
 time at the rate of a farthing a day. That 
 he might be fully prepared for abject and 
 fugitive poverty, be resolved to try the 
 possibility of sleeping in the open air, 
 and repaired one night to Mouse-hold- 
 heath, some high hills in the neighbour- 
 hood of Norwich, and there, with a plaid 
 for his covering, a green turf for his pillow, 
 and the firmament for his canopy, he slept 
 till he was awakened by the song of the 
 sky-lark, and the dews of the morning. 
 The night damps afflicted him with a 
 violent cold, and. he never repeated the 
 experiment. He now began tu practise a 
 singular exerc'se, by throwing a stick 
 
 loaded with lead at one end, and pacing 
 the distance from the place of projectioQ 
 to the place of fall, he ascertained, from 
 the increasing length of that distance, the 
 increase of his muscular power and skill 
 in throwing. After a time he exchanged 
 this relaxation for the less laborious exer- 
 cise of playing with balls and marbles, 
 beating a drum, and blowing the hautboy. 
 On the latter instrument he performed 
 well, and was accustomed to secrete him- 
 self in the thickets of a neighbouring 
 wood, and so "charm the listening shades." 
 
 According to Mr. W. Saint, from whose 
 Memoirs of Fransham these particulars 
 are derived, about 1770, or 1771, Mr. 
 Samuel Leeds, a member of the Society 
 of Friends, and a former pupil of Fran- 
 sham's, went to London with a view to 
 practise physic. At the instigation of the 
 late Dr. Fothergill, Leeds was summoned 
 by the college of physicians to undergo 
 an examination concerning his knowledge 
 and skill in medicine. The better to ac- 
 quit himself in Latin, he sent for Fransham 
 to London, whose services were rewarded 
 withaguineaa-week. Fransham remained 
 in the metropolis about nine months, 
 confining his instructions wholly, perhaps, 
 to Dr. Leeds, of whom he used to speak 
 in terms of high commendation, for his 
 unassuming modesty, and inoffensive cha- 
 racter. Dr. Leeds had obtained a consi- 
 derable practice in his neighbourhood, 
 near the monument ; but his practice 
 declined, and he died of a broken heart, 
 from the unkind treatment which, Fran- 
 sham used to say, he had experienced 
 from Dr. Fothergill. While in Lon- 
 don, Fransham knew the under libra- 
 rian at the queen's, palace, who, being 
 intimate with Foote, acquainted him with 
 the eccentricities of Fransham, and the 
 deportment of Leeds ; and soon afterwards 
 the pupil and the tutor were dramatised, 
 and exhibited to the public as Dr. Last 
 and Johpny Macphcrson. 
 
 After Fransham's return to Norwich, 
 about 1771 or 1772, he attended the 
 family of the llev. Dr. Cooper, at Brooke, 
 to which place he walked on the Saturday, 
 and remained till the Monday morning or 
 evening. This he did every week for 
 two years, during the summer season, till, 
 finding the walk too long, he relinquished 
 his attendance on the following year. He 
 had not received any remuneration for 
 these walks and instruction, beyond 
 board and lodging while with the family. 
 In thp course of time Dr. Cooper obtained 
 
1295 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER i. 
 
 1206 
 
 tlie living of great Yarmouth, and, Fran- 
 sham's pecuniary circumstances being 
 exceedingly low, he submitted to a friend 
 whether his attendance at Brooke might 
 not be deserving of something more than 
 the hospitable reception he had always 
 received ; adding that, if he could consider 
 his instructions worth a guinea, that sum 
 would be very serviceable. His friend 
 advised him to write to Dr. Cooper on 
 the subject; to which Fransham replied 
 that he had never written a letter to any 
 person in his life, and was wholly unequal 
 to the task ; and requested him to indite 
 such a letter for him as he might think 
 suitable. Fransham had written whole 
 volumes upon various subjects, had dis- 
 cussed the comparative merits of poets, 
 orators,' and philosophers, and so early 
 as ' his eighteenth year had written an 
 epistle against the fear of death ; yet he 
 had reached his fiftieth without penning a 
 single letter, and now felt himself wholly 
 unequal to the undertaking. The letter 
 to Dr. Cooper wrs written for him, and 
 Fransham copied it. In purport it 
 simply stated that, if the Dr. thought 
 Fransham's services to the family worthy 
 of mors remuneration than his meat and 
 bed, a guinea, or a less sum, would be 
 highly acceptable. A new difficulty pre- 
 sented itself; for he who had never 
 written a letter had never learned to fold 
 one. He exercised his ingenuity in 
 doubling and redoubling this, until fie 
 was again obliged to resort to his friend 
 for assistance. The epistle was sent by the 
 post : day after day elapsed ; no answer 
 arrived ; and Fransham expressed a de- 
 termination that, as he had been so unsuc- 
 cessful in his first, he would never venture 
 a second attempt at correspondence. At 
 length a letter arrived from Dr. Cooper, 
 inclosing, not the utmost of Fransham's 
 expectations, a guinea, but a five pound 
 note, with a kind apology for the delay 
 occasioned by the doctor's absence, warm 
 expressions of thanks for Fransham's 
 instructive attentions, of regret that the 
 too great distance prevented a renewal of 
 them, and with a generous and pressing 
 invitation to him to spend a few weeks 
 with Dr. Cooper and his family, not as a 
 preceptor, but as a friend. The doctor's, 
 remittance was affluence to Fransham ; it 
 enabled him for some time to support 
 himself comfortably, and seems to have 
 been the means of finally disencumbering 
 him. His reputation for ability as" a 
 teacher procured Successive applications 
 
 to him for tuition in the classics and 
 mathematics, from some of the most re- 
 spectable families in Norwich., A,t that 
 time he was the only person in the city 
 who could give able instruction in both 
 these branches, and young men who were 
 designed for Oxford or Cambridge, were 
 chiefly indebted to his preparatory assist- 
 ance, before they were entered for th<j 
 universities. 
 
 Fransham now opened a kind of school, 
 from six o'clock till eight in the morning, 
 during summer, and during the same 
 hours in the evening of winter. This was 
 a favorable arrangement for youth destined 
 to become attorneys, chemists, or medical 
 practitioners, or to enter on professions 
 which required a knowledge of Latin and 
 the exact sciences. Fransham's pecuniary 
 circumstances improved., He obtained 
 from fifteen to twenty pupils: a number 
 far exceeding his expectations, and greatly 
 more than he wished for. He. conceived it 
 impossible that any teacher could do justice 
 to more than six or eight pupils at a time ; 
 and often expressed astonishment at pa- 
 rents vrho, for the sake of cheapness, 
 sent their sons to schools where an im- 
 mense number of boys prevented the 
 master from giving them the proper 
 instruction, and the lowness of the terms 
 precluded the possibility of obtaining 
 proper assistants. Fransham commeiiced 
 by charging one shilling per week, which 
 sum he stipulated should be paid every 
 Friday evening ; and, if a pupil omitted to 
 bring it duly, he sent the boy to procure if, 
 previously to. the lesson of the evening. 
 This weekly arrangement was soon at- 
 tended with inconvenience and loss. Some 
 of the pupils, with a higher relish for 
 confectionery and fruit than for Virgil 
 and Euclid, occasionally absented them- 
 selves for whole weeks together, and spent 
 the weekly shillings entrusted to them by 
 their parents for Fransham. . To prevent 
 these lapses, he altered his terms to a 
 quarterly payment of half-a-guinea; which, 
 by the advice of Mr. Robinson, the friendly 
 dictator of the letter to Dr. Cooper, he 
 afterwards raised to fourteen shillings. 
 This income enabled Fransham to pro- 
 cure the necessaries of life with a few of 
 its comforts: and he reserved a small 
 sum against exigences and old age. He 
 now added to his scanty stock of books. 
 His chief affection was for old authors in 
 old editions ; not that he loved antiquity 
 for antiquity's sake, and venerated every 
 thing ancient because it was ancient; but he 
 
129T 
 
 THE YEAR BOdK.— NOVEMBER i. 
 
 1298 
 
 considered that the old writers on elevated 
 subjects were more choice and close in 
 their language and reasoning; and that 
 old editions were more accurately executed. 
 
 Besides giving instructions at his lodg- 
 ings in the way mentioned, he attended 
 at the houses of gentlemen to whom the 
 school-hours were not convenient, or who 
 desired private tuition. About 1784 he 
 went to reside with Mr. Robinson, with 
 whom he continued during ten years, 
 which, since the death of his friend 
 Wright, were the happiest of his existence. 
 
 He continued to give instructions as 
 usual, and his income for some time was 
 from fifteen to eighteen shillings per week. 
 His vacant time was chiefly spent with his 
 hospitable host, in reading portions of his 
 irianuscripts, discoursing on the pre-emi- 
 nence of wisdom and virtue, or relating 
 incidents of his former life. Here he was 
 happily prevented from having recourse 
 to eccentric expedients for support, and 
 he also made some change in his amuse- 
 ments : instead of beating on a drum, 
 which had offended the neighbourhood, 
 he resorted to a cane chair, which equally 
 served to exercise his muscles, and his 
 skill in timing the rat-tat-too. His haut- 
 boy, on which he had played delightfully, 
 he destroyed one day when afflicted with 
 a violent head-ache, for which strong tea 
 was his usual remedy; and, not finding 
 fuel for his fire, ho supplied the defect 
 with his instrument. To the hautboy 
 succeeded the bilbo-catch, or bilver-ketch. 
 In whatever he iindertook he determined 
 to excel, and with this little toy he re- 
 solved to try what was the greatest number 
 of times he could catch the ball upon the 
 spiked end, without missing. By constant 
 practice he attained to two hundred times 
 successively, but he found he could not 
 exceed that number. He carried the toy 
 about with him in his pocket ; and, while 
 attending any of his pupils, if he found 
 them not quite ready for his instructions, 
 he instantly took out his bilbo-cafch, arid 
 filled up the vacant minutes in trials to lodge 
 the ball on the small end two hundred and 
 one times. He could not attain that 
 number, but he never desisted from his 
 efforts, nor paid attention to his pupil, 
 till he had succeeded two hundred times 
 successively, which he generally accom- 
 plished on the first trial. 
 
 About 1785, the nephew of Mr. Robin- 
 son was attacked with a disorder which 
 terminated in a consumption : this young 
 man,- during his illness, did not reside 
 
 with his uncle, but with his father. One 
 morning Mr. Robinson went to enquire 
 after the state of his health. On his 
 return home, as soon as he opened the 
 door, Fransham said to him, " I find you 
 have lost your nephew." Mr. Robinson 
 was much surprised, for his nephew was 
 indeed dead, and he requested Fransham 
 to tell him how he could po.ssibly have 
 received the information. Fransham re- 
 plied that about four o'clock that morning 
 he dreamed that his nephew called him 
 by name, under the window of his bed- 
 room ; and Fransham recollecting that his 
 sister, on a similar occasion, had predicted 
 the death of Mr. Chute, he thought he 
 might in like manner conclude that his 
 young friend was no longer alive. 
 
 Although Fransham had long before re- 
 sumed the use of the shoes and stockings, 
 yet his singular appearance in a short 
 green jacket, with large horn buttons, 
 occasioned roguish school-boys to speak 
 of him as " horn-buttoned Jack." In hot 
 weather he usually carried his jacket 
 across his arm, and held his large full- 
 brimmed hat in his hand. One close and 
 sultry day, while walking in this manner, 
 he met an opulent manufacturer, a member 
 of the Society of Friends, who accosted 
 him with, " Why, Johnny, thou lookest 
 cool and comfortable, notwithstanding the 
 heat of the weather." " Most likely," 
 said Franshain, " but thou lookest very 
 hot and uncomfortable, and verily thou 
 wilt continue to look so ; for thou hast hot 
 courage enough to follow my example, 
 since thou darest not show thyself at 
 Friends' Meeting-house with thy coat on 
 thy arm, and thy hat in thy hand, although 
 thou professest thyself to be indifferent to 
 the custom of this world." To this the 
 Friend replied, " No, Johnny, no, decency 
 forbids it; I like to have some regard to 
 decency." " Well," rejoined Fransham, 
 " then do thou for the sake of decency 
 continue to wear thy thick cloth coat, and 
 great heavy hat, in a hot sultry day, and 
 I, for the Sake of comfort, will continue to 
 carry my jacket on my arm, and my liat 
 in my hand." 
 
 At his leisure, Fransham revised his 
 manuscripts, by making such alterations 
 and amendments as the maturity of judg- 
 ment suggested, and labored on a copioi.s 
 index to all the volumes, in addition to 
 the smaller indexes attached to each. He 
 likewise diligently read the principal 
 books in his small, well-chosen library ; 
 and, in most of them, made annotations 
 
1299 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 1. 
 
 1300 
 
 corrections, and additions, Which exhibit, 
 proofs of his industry, classical taste, and 
 logical precision. 
 
 Fransham's acquirements enabled him 
 to assist many educated gentlemen, who 
 desired to recover or extend their ac- 
 quaintance with the Greek and Latin 
 languages. Many who were about to talc; 
 jrdcrs, and some who afterwards filled 
 high stations in the church and the state, 
 became his pupils. In the course of time 
 he had contrived to save a hundred 
 pounds, and liis. friends wi.shed him to 
 deposit the money in a bank for security, 
 and upon interest. Upon such solicita- 
 tions he used to observe that Virgil had 
 no faith in banks, as might be seen by his 
 third eclogue, where he says, " Non bene 
 ripae creditor," that is, "It is not safe to 
 trust the bank." At length, he placed it 
 in the hands of a reputable merchant, who 
 from casualties soon afterwards became 
 bankrupt. A few weeks before, Fran- 
 sham had, from some cause or other, with- 
 drawn seventy-five pounds, and still there 
 remained twenty-five pounds, which, to a 
 man in his situation, was a considerable 
 sum to lose. As soon as Fransham heard 
 of this event, he hastened home, and, 
 calling Mr. Robinson, burst forth with 
 joyful exclamations, telling him that he 
 had saved seventy-five pounds. How so ? 
 inquired his host. " Why," said he, " the 
 gentleman in whose hands I placed one 
 hundred pounds, has failed, and only a 
 few weeks ago I withdrew seventy-five 
 pounds : how uncommonly fortunate I " 
 " Why yes," said Mr. Robinson, " fortu- 
 nate in having withdrawn seventy-five 
 pounds, but unfortunate in leaving 
 twenty-five, which will prove no gain to 
 you, but a loss." " I tell you, sir," replied 
 Fransham, " it is a clear gain o( seventy- 
 five pounds. Here, look here," said he, 
 pointing to his library, " not one of thes? 
 should I have had, if I had not withdrawn 
 the seventy-five pounds ; these, therefore, 
 and all the money in my closet besides, 
 are so much clear gain, — seventy-five 
 pounds actually saved." Fransham be- 
 lieved that, instead of having lost twenty- 
 five pounds, he had gained seventy-five. 
 His philosophy converted the evils of life 
 into blessings, made gains of losses, and 
 pleasures of pains. 
 
 About this period Fransham became 
 acquainted with Mr. Cooper, a barrister 
 distinguished for great legal ability, biblio- 
 c;raphical knowledge, and kindness and 
 hospitality to genius in adversity. With 
 
 this gentleman, Fransham dined every 
 Sunday, for nearly three years, and receiv- 
 ed from ~ him very kind and endearing 
 attentions, besides enjoying the pleasures 
 of pure and elevated conversation. At 
 Mr. Cooper's he had the unlimited use 
 of a large and excellent library, con- 
 sisting of choice and valuable books in 
 arts and sciences, classics, and , general 
 literature. On one of his weekly visits 
 to Mr. Cooper, he met Dr. Parr, whom 
 he conversed with for a considerable part 
 of the day, and £ver afterwards spoke of 
 as a most extraordinary man. His inti- 
 macy with Mr. Cooper was terminated by 
 that gentleman's removal from Norwich. 
 
 While he lived with Mr. Robinson, an 
 adjoining out-house was converted into a 
 stable. The apparent carelessness of the 
 groom, who attended this stable in the 
 evening with a lighted candle, excited in 
 Fransham a fearful apprehension of fire, 
 which daily increased, and, by way of 
 security, he procured a ladder, which he 
 kept in his bed-room, ready to put out of 
 the window for his descent, the moment 
 he should, receive an alarm. That he 
 might, however, be the better able to 
 escape with despatch and safety, he daily 
 practised running up and down this ladder, 
 with a small box or trunk, made of such 
 a size as just to contain his five manuscript 
 volumes, and which he constantly kept 
 upon his window, ready for emergency. 
 In running up and down his ladder, he 
 acquired a dexterity not to be excelled by 
 any London lamp-lighter; and, as his 
 hour of repeating the experiipent was 
 twelve o'clock at noon, he was frequently 
 an object of amusement to the curious. 
 After acquiring these facilities, he recol- 
 lected, that from the soundness with which 
 he was accustomed to sleep, it was not 
 only possible, but probable, that he might 
 not awaken till the fire should reach his 
 room, and thus prevent him from adopting 
 his expedient. For this evil there was no 
 remedy but retiring from the spot. He 
 accordingly quitted Mr. Robinson, and 
 took a room or rooms in St. Michael's at 
 Plea. In a year or two afterwards, the 
 stable was converted to another use, and 
 Fransham returned to his old lodgings, 
 where he continued till Mr. Robinson's 
 removal into a smaller house precluded 
 the possibility of Fransham having a room 
 with him. 
 
 Before Fransham's separation from Mr. 
 Robinson, he had relinquished the amuse- 
 ment of the cup and ball, but not till ht 
 
1301 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 1. 
 
 1302 
 
 had accomplished a fina. purpose with 
 that toy ; it vras to Catch ths ball so great 
 a number cf times as seems incredible. 
 " Every man," said Fransham, "has some 
 great object which he wishes to accom- 
 plish, and why should not I have mine ? 
 I will choose such a one as no mortal 
 being ever yet chose, and which no one 
 less than the gods would ever think of 
 attempting. I will get a bilbo-catch, and 
 I will catch the ball, upon the spiked end, 
 six hundred and sixty-six thousand six 
 hundred and sixty-six times!" It was 
 for the attainment of this object that he 
 used so frequently to employ himself with 
 this toy. In order to keep a correct 
 account of his progress, he put ten nuts 
 into his left hand pocket; at every hun- 
 dred times he removed one of these nuts 
 to the pocket on the right ; and, every time 
 that he found his left hand pocket empty, 
 he deposited a nut in a box, so that the 
 number of nuts deposited, in the box, 
 indicated the number of thousands of 
 times he had succeeded. The achieve- 
 ment of this object occupied a considerable 
 portion of his leisure for three or four 
 years. 
 
 Fransham enjoyed uninterrupted good 
 health, but he was of opinion that the 
 value of health could only be estimated 
 by a comparison with sickness ; that hap- 
 piness was increased by contrasting it 
 with misery ; and that the cup of pleasure 
 received an additional zest f;om an occa- 
 sional infusion of the bitters of pain. In 
 (■onformity, therefore, with this opinion, 
 he occasionally went to a confectioner's 
 shop, where he ate to repletion of the 
 tarts, cakes, fruits, and indigestibles, till 
 he produced a violent head-ache, that he 
 might have the felieity of curing this head- 
 ache by copious draughts of strong tea, 
 and be thus reminded of the inestimable 
 value of health. 
 
 On quitting Mr. Robinson, about 1800, 
 he went to reside with Mr. Jay, a baker, 
 in St. Clement's parish. The unaffected 
 simplicity of Fransham's manners, the 
 gentleness of his disposition, and the 
 venerable aspect with which a pilgrimage 
 of threescore years and ten had dignified 
 him, procured for him the kindest atten- 
 tions of Mis> Jay. During his stay with 
 her, he would not allow his bed to be 
 made oftener than once a-week: it was 
 the nurse of idleness and luxury, and the 
 height of effeminacy, he said^ for a man 
 to have his bed made every- day. Fran- 
 sham once hired a horse, with the inten- 
 
 tion of visiting a friend, who resided at a 
 few miles distance from Norwich; but, 
 when he got about a mile out of the city, 
 the horse took him into a pit by the road- 
 side, for the purpose of drinking : after 
 the animal had taken his fill, and turned 
 out of the pit, instead of pursuing the 
 direction of his rider, he gave visible signs 
 of inclination to return home. " Well," 
 said Fransham, " I thank you, my honest 
 creature, for having carried me thus far ; 
 and I certainly have no right to make you 
 go further, if it be against your inclination, 
 and therefore we will e'en go back again." 
 Back, therefore, they went ; and, after the 
 humane rider had clearly explained to the 
 surprised owner of the horse the cause of 
 their sudden re-appearance, he paid him 
 the fate for the entire day. 
 
 While Fransham continued with Mrs. 
 Jay, she considered him eccentric, but 
 always domestically inclined, fond of 
 friendly society, and social conversation. 
 He desired always to take his tea in com- 
 pany with the family, although he had a 
 separate tea equipage; and expressed 
 a desire to instruct her husband, and to 
 converse with him after the labors of the 
 day were ended. It seems, however, he 
 could not prove that a knowledge of the 
 mysteries of the Platonic philosophy 
 would in any manner increase the heat of 
 the oven, enlarge the profits of baking, or 
 facilitate the drudgery of sending home 
 pies and puddings, and Mr. Jay prudently 
 declined initiation. With Mrs. Jay, who 
 had more leisure, and on whom the man- 
 ner, and particularly the age of Fransham, 
 had produced strong impressions in his 
 favor, he conversed freely, and related to 
 her the principal occurrences of his life. 
 But she could never prevail upon him to* 
 allow the floor of his room to be wetted, 
 or the walls to be white-washed ; it was 
 his constant care, in his latter years, to 
 avoid damps and drafts. He often spoke 
 to Mrs. Jay with great admiration of 
 female beauty. His temper was invariably 
 even, and incapable of discomposure, ex- 
 cept perchance he saw a short-tailed 
 horse ; on which occasion he would come 
 home venting his rage and indignation 
 against " Christian cruelties," and " En- 
 glish barbarity." 
 
 .About 1805 a distant female relation, 
 named Smith, called upon him for the 
 purpose of acquainting him with her 
 distressed situation, and soliciting his 
 advice and assistance. It immediately 
 occuired to him that he might alleviate 
 
lies 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 1. 
 
 304 
 
 ner sorrows, if he were to hire two rooms, 
 and take her for nis house-keeper. He 
 accordingly engaged a chamber and garret 
 in the yard adjoining the wool-hall, in the 
 parish of St. George's Colegate ; and, that 
 his pupils might not have to pass through 
 the sleeping-room of his house-keeper, 
 he appropriated the chamber to his own 
 use, and the garret to hers. This arrange- 
 ment, however, he made with reluctance; 
 for, from having lived in garrets almost 
 all his life, he had a strong predilection in 
 favor of these upper stories. The easi- 
 ness of his temper soon reconciled him 
 to the change. 
 
 Fransham's diet was chiefly bread and 
 butter, and tea ; when the biltter proved 
 bad, he threw all of it into his fire. His 
 house-keeper once presumed to suggest 
 to him, that perhaps it would be better to 
 give the butter away, than to burn it. — 
 " What," said he, " offer that to a fellow- 
 creature which I cannot eat myself! No, 
 I should think myself a monster were I 
 to be guilty of such an insult. If, how- 
 ever, you know of any useful purpose to 
 which bad butter may be applied, I will 
 inform you the next time I happen to have 
 any, and you shall have it, and be wel- 
 come." 
 
 Mrs. Smith continued with him till she 
 found a situation which seemed more ad- 
 vantageous ; and, as he had no further 
 occasion for two rooms, he removed, to 
 enjoy the felicity of a garret in Elm-hill 
 lane. " A garret," he would say, " is the 
 quietest room in the house ; there are no 
 rude noises over head ; all is calm and 
 serene ; nothing is to be heard, but the 
 delightful ' music of the rolling spheres.'" 
 
 About 1803Fransham became acquaint- 
 " ed with Mr. Stark, an eminent dyer, father 
 to Mr. Stark the landscape painter. At 
 this gentleman's he was received with 
 frank hospitality, enjoyed the pleasure of 
 free conversation, ahd had the usfe of a 
 good English library. Mr. Stark likewise 
 placed two of his sons under his instruc- 
 tion, and from that time Fransham usually 
 spent his Sunday evenings with this gen- 
 tleman and his family. He had a great 
 aversion to dogs. " Dogs," he would 
 say, " are noisy, mobbish, and vulgar, 
 and therefore I dislike them." If he 
 entered a room where there was a dog, 
 he requested that he or the dog might bo 
 permitted to retire. Next to the horse, 
 his favorite animals were cats : he would 
 place them upon his knees, and talk and 
 fondle with them as aflfectionately as a 
 
 mother with her infant. He had a dislike 
 to very young children ; he considered 
 them as interrupters of conversation, dis- 
 turbers of quifet, and frequent, though 
 innocent, offenders against decgncy and 
 good manners. 
 
 Towards the latter end of 1809, Fran- 
 sham was attacked with a cough, which 
 increased vfith the severity of winter. In 
 January, 1810, he was too enfeebled to 
 take exercise, and, finally, kept his bed. 
 On tne morning of the first of February 
 he requested his nurse to remove him from 
 his bed to his chair : he told her that he 
 should exceedingly dislike to be buried 
 alive, and would therefore be obliged to 
 her, when she perceived him without 
 motion, to shake him well, then place him 
 by a large fire, within the scent of a hot 
 apple-pye; if these expedients did not 
 succeed, to ask some beautiful woman to 
 sit by his side; and, if this experiment 
 failed, then she might safely conclude him 
 dead. In a few minutes after these direc- 
 tions, his nurse, not hearing him cough, 
 approached his chair and found he had 
 expired. 
 
 He was buried in the church-yard of 
 St. George's Colegate, Norwich, and the 
 following inscription is on a stone to his 
 memory : 
 
 " M. S. 
 Joannis Fransham, qui plurimis annis in 
 hkc urbe Graecas Latinasque Litteras, 
 necnon Mathematicam, studio exploravit, 
 prseceptis illustravit." 
 
 When Fransham died he was upwards 
 of eighty. His physiognomy was highly 
 intelligent, and somewhat resembled that 
 of Erasmus. In his latter years he suf- 
 fered his grey hair to hang loose about his 
 shoulders. When he walked the street, 
 he wore his hat drawn over his eyes, and 
 constantly looked downwards, with his 
 hands most commonly behind him, except 
 in very cold weather, when he usually 
 folded his arms in front of his breast. ' In 
 conversation on his favorite subjects, lan- 
 guage, metaphysics, and mathematics, he 
 always appeared cheerful and ariimated. 
 He was remarkable for industry, and 
 accustomed himself to rise at five o'cIoli 
 in the morning during summer, and ai 
 six in the winter. He ate very moderately 
 of animal food, and abstained from all 
 strong liquors: he consequently enjoyed 
 sound health, and retained the perfect use 
 of his faculties to the last moments of life. 
 Until within a few days of his death 
 
1305 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 2. 
 
 1306 
 
 he continued io give instructions to his 
 pupils. 
 
 As a mathematician, he was eminent 
 rather for the solidity, than the extent, of 
 his knowledge. His love of accuracy 
 made him an enthusiastic admirer of the 
 ancient mathematicians ,■ or, perhaps more 
 properly, his early attention to these 
 writers made him accurate. He had a 
 higher veneration for Euclid than for 
 Newton, and preferred the Elements of 
 Geometry of the former, to the Principia 
 of the latter. He departed from the cele- 
 brated doctrine of fluxions ; and pro- 
 nounced the " Analyst " of Bishop 
 Berkeley to be one of the finest specimens 
 of reasoning among the productions of 
 the moderns. 
 
 Of Algebra, or the analytic art, he 
 entertained a very moderate opinion. He 
 was well satisfied with the grounds and 
 methods of operation employed by alge- 
 braists for the solution of simple and 
 quadratic equations ; but the resolution of 
 cubics by Cardan's rule, by sir Isaac 
 Newton's method of divisors, or by the 
 different modes of approximation, he 
 regarded only as mechanical tricks, or 
 arts of legerdemain, for the purpose of 
 displaying skillin quirks and quibbles, 
 to the injury of pure mathematical science. 
 
 Fransham's manuscript writings, — ^his 
 beloved five volumes, — came into the 
 possession of Edward Rigby, esq. They 
 were left in a state fitted for the press, 
 but are destined, probably, to remain 
 unpublished. They consist chiefly of 
 dissertations and essays on the philosophy 
 of the ancients, and cruelty to animals; 
 satirical discussions on politics, manners, 
 and trade ; odes, eclogues, and rhapsodies. 
 A sixth volume contains formula for 
 curious calculations ; problems on the 
 application of algebra to geometry, and 
 different tables of numbers. Thirty 
 smaller manuscripts, in the possession of 
 Mr. Stark, are miscellanies of a lighter 
 nature ; criticisms, dialogues, and essays 
 on temporary affairs. 
 
 Fransham, in his latter age, often re- 
 gretted that his early circumstances had 
 prevented him from marrying. His life 
 was blameless ; and the few particulars of 
 it here credibly placed before the reader, 
 afford materials for reflection as well as 
 amusement. He was not ashamed of 
 being or appearing poor, — went without 
 shoes rather than he would run into debt, 
 — lived upon a farthing a-day rather than 
 he would beg a halfpenny, — and thus 
 
 exemplified that real knowledge can afford 
 the means of independence, under the 
 pressure of extreme indigence. He never 
 suffered an inclination which he could not 
 gratify to grow into a want. 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 1. — Day breaks . . 
 
 5 17 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 r 11 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 4 49 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 6 43 
 
 NotJCTttScr 2. 
 
 
 All Souls. 
 
 
 On this day formerly, in Lancgishire 
 and Herefordshire, it was usual for the 
 wealthy to dispense oaten cakes, called 
 soul-mass-cakes, to the poor, who, upon 
 receiving them, repeated the following 
 couplet in acknowledgment — 
 God have poor soul. 
 Bones and all. 
 
 Barring Out. 
 
 Of the many strange customs which 
 prevailed among our medieval ancestors, 
 and which, of late years, have rapidly 
 fallen into desuetude, that of " barring- 
 out," as it is called, appears the most 
 irreconcileable to the habits and senti- 
 ments of modern times. To a scholastic 
 disciplinarian of the metropolis, the cus- 
 tom would appear outrageous, and almost 
 incredible. It reminds us of the Roman 
 Saturnalia of old, when masters, for a 
 certain time, were subservient to their 
 servants and slaves. 
 
 Hutchinson, in his History of Cumber- 
 land, when speaking of the parish of 
 Bromfield, thus adverts to the practise of 
 Barring- out: 
 
 " Till within the last twenty or thirty 
 years it had been a custom, time out of 
 mind, for the scholars of the free-school 
 of Bromfield, about the beginning of Lent, 
 or, in the more expressive phraseology of 
 the country, at Fastings Even, to bar out 
 the master ; that is to say, to depose and 
 exclude him from his school, and keep 
 him out for three days. During the pe- 
 riod of this expulsion, the doors of the 
 citadel, the school, were strongly barrica- 
 doed within ; and the boys, who defended 
 it like a besieged city, were armed with 
 bore-tree or elder pop-guns. The master, 
 meanwhile, made various efforts, both by 
 force and stratagem, to regain his lost 
 authority. If he succeeded, heavy tasks 
 were imposed, and the business of the 
 
1307 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVl'MBER 3. 
 
 1300 
 
 school was resumed and submitted to ; 
 but it more commonly happened that he 
 was repnlsed and defeated. After three 
 days' siege terms of capitulation were 
 proposed by the master, and accepted by 
 the boys. These terms were summed up 
 in an old formula of Latin laconic verses, 
 stipulating what hours and time should, 
 for the year ensuing, be allotted to study, 
 and what to relaxation and play. Secu- 
 rities were provided by each side for the 
 due performance of the stipulations ; and 
 the paper was then solemnly signed both 
 by master and scholars." 
 
 Brand, when noticing the subject, in 
 his " Popular Antiquities," quotes the 
 above passage from Hutchinson, and says 
 it was " a custom that, having now fallen 
 into disuse, will soon be totally forgotten." 
 Brand was certainly mistaken in this as- 
 sertion. In Cumberland the custom still 
 prevails, and is not likely soon to be for- 
 gotten. To ray certain knowledge it has 
 taken place at Scotby, Wetherall, War- 
 wick, &c., within the last ten years, and I 
 understand that the practice is still occa- 
 sionally enforced. I have been informed 
 by a young friend, who left Scotby school 
 but a few years ago, that he had been fre- 
 quently engaged in these sCffairs. He 
 stated that, when the master was barred 
 out, the written orders for the holidays^ 
 &c., were put through the key-hole of the 
 school-ddor, with a request for the master 
 to sign them, which, after some hesitation, 
 and a few threats, he generally consented 
 (o. On one occasion, however, he forced 
 his way through the v/indow, but was in- 
 stantly expelled, vi et armis, and his coat- 
 tail burnt to pieces by squibs and blazing 
 paper. 
 
 Brand speaks of the custom as being very 
 prevalent in the city of Durham, and other 
 places in the country ; as HougUton-le- 
 ipring, Thornton, &o. 
 
 Dr. Johnson, in his life of Addison, 
 ilso mentions the custom in the following 
 )assage : 
 
 " In 1683, when Addison had entered 
 . lis twelftli year, his father, now become 
 ■ Jean of Lichfield, committed him to the 
 i;are of Mr. Shaw, master of the grammar- 
 school in that city. While he was under 
 ihe tuition of Shaw, his enterprise and 
 courage have been recorded in leading and 
 conducting Successfully a plan for hairing 
 i/ut his master, a disorderly privilege 
 Vkhich in his time prevailed in the j/rin- 
 cipal seminaries of education, where the 
 buys, exulting in the approach of their 
 
 periodical liberty, and unwilling to wait 
 its regular commencement, took posses- 
 sion of the school some days before the 
 time of usual recess, of which they barred 
 the door; and, not contented with the 
 exclusive occupation of the fortress, 
 usually bade their master defiance from 
 the windows. The whole operation of 
 this practice was, at Litchfield, planned 
 and conducted by the author of Cato.* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 November 2. — Day breaks . . 5 19 
 
 Sun rises . . . 7 13 
 
 — sets . . , 4 47 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 41 
 
 St. Winifred's Day 
 The legend of St. Winifred, and her 
 martyrdom, may be consulted in the' 
 Eoery-Dai/ Book. The following parti- 
 culars relating to St. Winifred's Well arc 
 chiefly derived from Mr. Pennant's ac- 
 count of Holywell. 
 
 The origin of this useful stream is dis- 
 covered at the foot of the steep hill 
 beneath the town of Holywell or TrefFyn- 
 non, to which it gave the name. "The 
 spring boils with vast impetuosity out of 
 a rock, and is confined in a beautiful 
 polygonal well, covered with a rich arch, 
 supported by pillars. The roof is most 
 exquisitely carved in stone. Immediately 
 over the fountain is the legend of St.' 
 Winifred, on a pendent projection, willi 
 the arms of England at the botlonx. 
 Numbers of fine ribs secure the arch, 
 whose intersections are coupled with a 
 sculpture. Some are mere works of fancy, 
 grotesciue figures of animals, but the rest 
 chiefly allude to the Stanley family. 
 This building, and the chapel over it, rose 
 from the ])iety of that great house, which 
 left memorials of its benefactions : there 
 are besides some marks of the illustrious 
 donors ; for example, the profile of Mar- 
 garet, mother to Henry VII., and that of 
 her husband the earl of Derby, cut on the 
 same stone. The wolfs head is the arms 
 of the earls of Chester; it is enclosed in a 
 garter, in respect to Sir William Stanley, 
 Knight, Justiciary of North Wales. The 
 tun with a plant issuing out of it is a 
 rebus, the arms of his wife Elizabeth 
 Ilopton, allusive to her name. This 
 proves that the building was erected 
 
 * Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
1309 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMiBER 3. 
 
 1310 
 
 berore 1495, in which year sir William 
 lost his head. The other badges of the 
 same house are the stag's head, the eagle's 
 leg, and the three legs, the arms of the 
 Isle of Man. Over one of the lesser 
 arches, on each side of the well, are the 
 dragon and greyhound, the supporters of 
 the arms of England during the reigns of 
 Henry VII., and part of that of Henry 
 VIII. The first was borne by Henry 
 VII., as a badge of the house of Tudor, 
 which derived itself from Cadwalader, 
 last king of Britain, who bore on his 
 ensign a red dragon. Henry, in imitation 
 of him, at the battle of. Bosworth carried 
 on his standard a red dragon painted on 
 white and green silk; which afterwards 
 gave rise to the office of rouge-dragon 
 among the heralds. On one side of the 
 wall that supports the roof was painted 
 the tale of the tutelar saint, at present 
 almost defaced : over it is inscribed, in 
 honorem sanitae Wenefrede, V & M. In 
 another wall is an elegant niche, in which 
 stood a statue of the virgin Mary. It is 
 said that tiiere was another statue of St. 
 Winifred, which is probable, as xsabel, 
 countess of Warwick, left to St. Wini^ 
 fred, in 1539, her gown of russet velvet. 
 
 Over this spring is a chapel of the 
 same date with the other building; a 
 neat piece of Gothic architecture ; but in 
 a very ruinous state. The east end is a 
 pentagon, and had five windows with an 
 elegant tracery. The top arched and 
 crossed with neat slender ribs. It had 
 been open to the body of the chapel, but 
 the fine arch which formed the division 
 has been bricked up. On one side of the 
 body is an oblong recess, divided from it 
 by three arches, supported by pillars, and 
 within is a window impending over the 
 well. The whole length of the chapel is 
 fifty-two feet, the breadth is twenty. The 
 recess is twenty-six feet long, and eight 
 broad. The roof is neat wood-work. 
 The chapel is the property of Daniel 
 Leo, Esq. 
 
 No mention is made in the Domes- 
 day-Book of either chapel, church, or 
 well ; yet townships of less note are 
 named ; such as Bruneford, Caldewte, 
 and others. Mr. Pennant thinks the 
 legend of St. Winifred was known 
 prev ous to that survey ; for the very 
 name of Holywell is Saxon, probably 
 bestowed on it before the Conquest on 
 account of the imputed sanctity of the 
 well. The spring is certainly one of the 
 finest in these kingdoms, and flings out 
 
 about twenty-one tons of . water, or 
 eighty-four Iiogsheads in a minute. It 
 never freezes. In respect to its alleged 
 equality of water in droughts, or after 
 the greatest rains, this must be . placed - 
 among the vulgar errors ; for it has been 
 discovered that the variation is very great; 
 there is a decrease in summer of mOre 
 than one-third, in droughts of still more, 
 and after violent rains the increase is in 
 like proportion, 
 
 In former times the sacred stream 
 hurried to the sea unconfined by the busy 
 manufactures. During the reign of pil- 
 grimages nothing btit the corn-mills, the 
 property of the monks, found employ for 
 its waters. The valley from Basingwerk 
 Abbey to St. Winifred's Well is very 
 beautiful, bounded on one side with 
 hanging woods and open on the other ; 
 and with the advantages of a brisk wind 
 the greatest part of the year, and a rapid 
 stream, it is visited with the usual 
 diseases of the country. 
 
 The length of the stream from the 
 fountain to the marsh is one mile and 
 234' yards, and in its progress it turns 
 wheels for eleven large manufactories, 
 giving employment to about 1500 men, 
 women, and children, creating fortunes 
 for many, and laying the foundation of a 
 town of considerable magnitude. 
 
 After the death of St. Winifred, the 
 waters of her well became almost as sa- 
 native in reputation as those of the pool 
 of Bethesda, The votive crutches, bar- 
 rovrs, hand-barrows, and other proofs of 
 cures, to this moment remain pendent 
 over the well. The resort of pilgrims of 
 late years has considerably decreased, yet 
 in the summer a few are still to be seen 
 in the water, in deep devotion, up to their 
 chins for hours, sending Up their prayers 
 or performing a number of evolutions 
 round the polygonal well, or threading 
 the arch between well and well a pie- 
 scribed number of times. 
 
 The bathing well is an oblong, thir(y- 
 eight feet by sixteen, with steps for the 
 descent of the fair sex, or of invalids. 
 Near the steps, two feet beneath the 
 water, is a large stone, called the wishing- 
 stone. It receives many a kiss from the, 
 faithful, who are supposed never to fail in 
 experiencing the completion of their de- 
 sires, provided the' wish is delivered with 
 full devotion and confidence. On the 
 outside of the great vvell, close to the 
 road, is a small spring, once famed for the 
 cure of weak eyes. The patient made an 
 
1311 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 4. 
 
 1312 
 
 offering to the nymph of the spring, of a 
 crooked pin, and sent up at the same 
 time a certain ejaculation by way of 
 charm; but the charm is forgotten and the 
 efficacy of the waters lost. The well is 
 common. 
 
 Lilly, in the History of his Life and 
 Times, relates "that in 1635, sir George 
 Peckham, knight, died in St. Winifred's, 
 having continued so long mumbling his 
 Pater Nosters and sancta Winifreda era 
 pro me, that the cold struck into his body, 
 and after his coming forth of that well he 
 never «poke more. " In the " Travels of 
 Tom Thumb, " we read, " a man would 
 be inexcusable that should come into 
 North Wales and not visit Holywell or 
 St. Winifred's, and hear attentively all 
 the stories that are told about it." 
 
 h, m, 
 
 November 3. — Day breaks . . 5 20 
 
 Sun rises . . .■ 7 15 
 
 — sets ... 4 45 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 40 
 
 Nob^mfi^r 4. 
 
 November 4, 1740, died William Hucks, 
 Esq., who had long sat in parliament, 
 for Abingdon and Wallingford.. He was 
 an opulent brewer iii London. . Mr. 
 Noble believes he was the person taken 
 notice of when mounted on a beautiful 
 hunter, by Louis XV. The monarch en- 
 quired who he was ; a witty nobleman 
 replied, " Sire, un chevalier de malt." 
 It is probable that the wit never disturbed 
 Mr. Hucks, for he was seldom moved by 
 what he saw or heard. He loved to at- 
 tend a lawyer's club in or near Chancery 
 Lane, where he remained perfectly qujes- 
 cent, but delighted to hear the glib- 
 tongued tribe talk of their rebutters and 
 sur-rebutters. He was brewer to the 
 king's household, and is reported to have 
 been very honest and very loyal. That 
 he might make the latter appear most 
 conspicuous, he placed the statue of the 
 king George I. upon Bloomsbury steeple, 
 on which a wag wrote, — 
 The king of Great Britain was rcckon'd 
 before 
 
 The head of the church by all good Chris- 
 tian people^ 
 But his brewer has added still one title more 
 
 To the rest, and has made him the head of 
 the steeple. 
 
 Scottish Ploughing in Sussex. 
 A Scottish gentleman in the Lothians 
 sent one of Small's ploughs as a present 
 
 to an agricultural friend in Sussex ; and 
 dispatched with it 3 stout, active, intelli- 
 gent young ploughman, named Sandy 
 Penny, to instruct the peasants on his 
 Sussex friend's farm in the mode of using 
 this valuable implement. Sandy began 
 his labors, but found that when his master 
 was not present his instructions were re- 
 ceived with contempt; and himself, his 
 plough, and his country, treated with 
 scorn and derision. For a time he bore 
 meekly all the taunts of his fellow-ser- 
 vants; but Sandy was not a philosopher, 
 for his patience became exhausted, and he 
 resolved to lay his case before his new 
 master, and request permission to return 
 home.i — "What are your grievances, Alex- 
 ander ?" said his master. — " T'weel, sur 
 (replied Sandy), they are mair than mor- 
 tal man can put up wi'. No' that 1 bae 
 ony objection to yoursel'; and na muckle 
 to the kintra; for I'm no sic .a colt as 
 prefer, the sour east wuns, that meet us as 
 the skeigh p' day on our bare leas, to the 
 saft south, wasters and loun enclosures 
 he.re ; but ye're folks, sur, are perfect 
 deevil«, and keep tormenting me like a 
 bink o' harried wasps. In short, sur, I 
 am raaist demented sick o' the place, and 
 I just, wi' your wul, wish to,gae hame." 
 Here Sandy made his best bow. " But 
 we must not (said his master) allow our- 
 selves to be beaten off the, field so easily. 
 Pray, Alexander, have you ever tried 
 your powers at boxing?"-^" As for that 
 (replied Sandy), I'm no muckle used to 
 fetching : but I doubt na I could gle as 
 gude as I got." — " Well (rejoined his 
 masiter) "I will give you a crown piece if 
 you will give the first person who insults 
 you a hearty box on the ear." Sandy for 
 a fewf seconds consulted the physiognomy 
 of his master's countenance ; and having, 
 satisfied himself that he was in earnest, 
 replied, " Weel, weel ! sur ! wi' ye're 
 leave, I'se try my ban' ;" and, scraping 
 his foot on the ground as he made his 
 bow, he withdrew, with a determination 
 to reduce his master's precepts into prac- 
 tice. An opportunity soon occurred ; 
 and in a regular set-to Sandy Penny gave 
 his antagonist a beating to his heart's con- 
 tent. It wrought like a charm ; the 
 plough was soon generally approved of 
 on the farm; and, several others having 
 been obtained from the north, Sandy's 
 master, in calculating his annual profits, 
 soon found the advantage of the argu- 
 mentum ad pugilium, and the real value o 
 a Scots Penny. 
 
1313 
 
 TflE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBElt 1. 
 
 13U 
 
 DISTAFF SPINNING. 
 
 There are certain representations of the 
 pencil and graver, seriously intended for 
 piotorial embellishment, at which we 
 involuntarily smile ; and this may be one 
 of these muscle-moving oddities. There 
 is no help for it : if the reader can keep 
 a solemn face while looking at the cat in 
 this cut, so much the better. To those 
 who cannot some explanation is. due. 
 
 The original idea of this engraving is a 
 lithographic print in a " Compendious 
 History of the Cotton Manufacture, by 
 Richard Guest," a quarto volume printed 
 at Manchester in 1823. That print it 
 was designed to improve upon in the 
 Year Book, and — behold it ! Being far 
 
 48. 
 
 from London, in a manufacturing district, 
 I have no power of substituting any thing 
 better. 
 
 » There can be little douJDt, I imagine, 
 that the cut of the Pointer-dog, last 
 month,* has obtained deserved admira- 
 tion. That engraving was executed and 
 the article upon " Don" was written by 
 his owner, who, from that specimen of 
 his graphic aud literary talents, may bo 
 easily imagined an able artist, and a kind 
 hearted and keen sportsman. The en- 
 graving of " Don" was, and will be, his 
 
 • On Col. 12S0. 
 
 2 U 
 
H-31S 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-rNOVEMBER S. 
 
 ISlit 
 
 last ^^etformance. It was done in seden- 
 tary recreatjon after a serious illness, and, 
 for more heiilthy and active amusement, 
 our friend reS^rted to his much-loved 
 field sport. 1 le^n, during my absence 
 from London, that 1i} reaching a fowling- 
 piece from his chaise i\ went off, shattered 
 his right hand, and amputation was im- 
 mediately performed. Tp this gentleman 
 was committed the engritving of all the 
 subjects for the Year Book, except those 
 which commence each month. I could 
 not be so unfeeling as to address him 
 upon a mere matter of business, and have 
 contented myself with introducing into 
 the present month fewer subjects, and 
 such as could be forwarded to tlie printei 
 under the exigency — hence the present 
 cut of the poor old spinner and her cat. 
 In the next, which will be the concluding 
 month of the year, and of the work, there 
 will be a supcrflux of engravings, to make 
 up for the obvious deficiency in the pre- 
 sent month. 
 
 Mr. Guest's work on the Cotlon-Man- 
 ufacture purports to contain " a disproval 
 of the claim of Sir Richard Arkwright to 
 the invention of its ingenious machinery." 
 Leaving that question still open between 
 the Edinburgh Review and Mr. Guest, 
 who published a " Reply" to an article 
 on the Spinning machinery in that re- 
 view, which opposed the " disproval" of 
 Mr. Guest, his first named work is now 
 resorted to for the purpose of observing 
 that it traces the manufacture from the 
 first process. 
 
 The earliest and simplest mode of spin- 
 ning is represented in the engraving, and 
 was in use within memory. The old 
 woman is in the act of converting "'the 
 fleecy contents of the fruit of the cotton- 
 tree into thread, for the purpose of being 
 woven into cloth." She holds between 
 the left arm and the body a wooden rod, 
 called the distaff, with a bundle, or fleece 
 of cotton wool tied loosely round the top 
 of it; and with her hands about two 
 inches apart she pulls a continuous lock : 
 the right hand draws out and twists so 
 much of the lock as is between it and the 
 left hand into a fine thread, which is fur- 
 ther twisted by a pendent spindle or 
 bobbin, which is kept constantly. twirling 
 round, and on which the thread is after- 
 wards wound. 
 
 This tedious process is Still used in 
 Ilindostan. The superiority of texture 
 
 and the durability of the India nankeens, 
 and long cloths, are owing to this mode 
 of spinning, which disposes the fibres of 
 the cotton more evenly, and twists them 
 more into the body of the thread than the 
 spinning machines do. Our old woman's 
 mode is the primitive one, used for thou- 
 sands of years. It is ^he occupation to 
 which Hector sent Andromache, and in 
 which Hercules employed himself, in a 
 love-adventure with Omphale, as pictured 
 by the painters, on the authority of ancient 
 poetry. ' 
 
 In the Fear Booft, which contains much 
 concerning antiquities, there is not any 
 mention of one more useful or more 
 ancient than spinning with the distaff. 
 
 November 4.- 
 
 h. ID. 
 
 -Day breaks . . 5 22 
 
 Sun rises . . .7 17 
 
 — sets ... 4 43 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 38 
 
 Nobftnfiet; 5. 
 
 Gunpowder Plot. 
 The reader will find quite enough of 
 of this story, and its celebration, in the 
 Every- Dm/ Book. 
 
 Landikb of William III. 
 
 This was effected in 1688, on the an- 
 niversary of Powder Plot day. 
 
 On his way from Torbay to London, 
 the prince of Orange slept at the deanery 
 house, Exeter, while the bishop of the 
 diocese, Dr. Lamplugh, ran off to king 
 James, who, for his loyalty, made him 
 archbishop of York. On the Sunday 
 afterwards, the prince of Orange had 
 reached Exeter. Dr. Burnet, mounting 
 the pulpit in the cathedral, to read the 
 declaration, all the canons, and part of 
 the congregation, left the church. On 
 the other hand, few offered their services;: 
 for, however the people might be in-, 
 clinetl to the undertaking, their recollec- 
 tion of the severities towards the adhe- 
 rents of the duke of Monmouth deterred 
 them from engaging in the enterprise } 
 and the prince remained nine days at 
 Exeter, without being joined by any per- 
 son of distinction. It is even said that, 
 in a council of war, held in that city, he 
 suffered it to he proposed thaXjae siinulJ 
 re-embark for Holland. On the tenth day, 
 however, sir Edward Scraour and other 
 
ISIT 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER «. 
 
 1*18 
 
 country gentlemen came to him, and 
 formed an association, whose united en- 
 ergies contributed in no inconsiderable 
 degree to the success of the revolution. 
 
 ■In several parts of Exeter cathedral are 
 monuments of great antiquity ; and that 
 of judge Doddridge particularly attracts 
 attention. He was the ancestor of the 
 pious and learned Dr. Philip Doddridge. 
 A curious incident happened to this up- 
 right judge, on one of his circuits. It is 
 related in the Harleian Miscellany, that, 
 being at Huntingdon assizes, in 1619, he 
 reproved the sheriff for having returned 
 on the jury persons who were not of 
 sufficient respectability ; and that at the 
 next assizes the sheriff returned the fol- 
 lowing singular ^nel, at which the judge 
 smiled, at the same time applauding his 
 ingenious industry : — 
 
 Maximilian, King of Tortand, 
 Henry, Prince of Godmancheded, 
 George, Duke of Somersham, 
 William, Marquis of Stukely, 
 Edward, Earl of Hartford, 
 Robert, Lord of Warsley, 
 Richard, Baron of Bythorpe, 
 Edmund, Knight of St. Neots, 
 Peter, Esquire of Easton, 
 George, Gentleman of Spaldoclt, 
 Robert, Yeoman of Barham, 
 Stephen, Po^pe of Weston, 
 Humphrey, Cardinal of Kimbolton, 
 William, Bishop of Bugden, 
 John, Archdeacon of Paxton, 
 John, Abbot of Stukely, 
 Richard, Friar of Ellington^ 
 Henry, Monk of Stukely, 
 Edward, Priest of Graffham, 
 Richard, Deacon of Catsworth.* 
 An old MS. of this list is in the British 
 Museum, among some writings attributed 
 to Partridge, the almanac-maker. 
 
 
 
 b. m. 
 
 November 5.- 
 
 — Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 23 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 7 18 
 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 , 4 42 
 
 
 Twilight ends , 
 
 , 6 37 
 
 Michaelmas Term Begins. 
 Vacation's gone — and pleas and strife 
 Begin to blossom into life ; 
 
 • 1S«ans'8 Juvenile Tourist. 
 
 And Westminster Is overflown 
 With wit peculiarly its own ; 
 Chief justices with bretlien three 
 Swagger in ermined majesty ; 
 Yet tbese^ like other things, declare 
 What short-lived fools we mortals are ; 
 For Hilary Term begins to wane 
 To Easter's transitory reign. 
 And ZVmi^'s hot sunbeams now 
 Descend on Miohaelmas's snow ; 
 Succeeding Terms tbeir loss atone 
 But we. when once our days are flown. 
 With Littleton and Blackstone lie 
 Like records in the J Veasury. 
 And who can t^, if we shall stay 
 To earn the fees we touched to-day ? 
 For with the wealth we leave behind 
 The uninheritable mind 
 ts what our heirs shall never find. 
 
 Country Life. 
 
 Isaac Walton describesa delicious scene 
 in spring : — 
 
 "Turn out of the way a little, good 
 scholar, towards yonder high honey-suckle 
 hedge; there we'll sit and sing, whilst this 
 shower falls so gently upon the teeming 
 earth, and gives yet a sweeter smell to the 
 lovely flowers that adorn these verdant 
 meadows. Lookl under that broad beech 
 tree I sat down, when I was last this way, 
 a fishing; and the birds in the adjoining 
 grove seemed to have a friendly contention 
 with an echo, whose dead voice seemed 
 to live in a hollow tree, near to the brow 
 of that primrose^ill ; there I sat, viewing 
 the silver streams glide silently towards 
 their centre, the tempestuous sea ; yet 
 sometimes opposed by rugged- roots and 
 pebble stones, which broke their waves, 
 and turned them into foam ; and some- 
 times I beguiled time by viewing the 
 harmless lambs, some leaping securely in 
 the cool shade, whilst others sported them- 
 selves in the cheerful sun ; and saw others 
 craving comfort from the woollen udders 
 of their bleating dams. As I thus sat, 
 these and other sights had so fully pos- 
 sest my soul with content, that 1 thought 
 as the poet has happily exprest it, 
 
 I was for that time lifted above earth ; 
 And possest joys not promised in my birth. 
 
 As I left this place, and entered into the 
 next field, a second pleasure entertained 
 me : 'twas a handsome milk-maid, that 
 had not yet attained so much age and wis- 
 dom as to load her mind with any fears of 
 many things that will never be, as too 
 many men too often do ; bat she cast 
 away all care, and sung like a nightingale ; 
 
1319 
 
 THE YEAR.BOOK.— NOVEMBER 7. 
 
 1S20 
 
 her voice was good, and the ditty fitted 
 for it ; it was that smooth song which was 
 made by Kit Marlowe, now at least fifty 
 years ago ; and the milk maid's mother 
 sung an answer to it, which was made by 
 Sir Walter Raleigh in his younger days. 
 They were old fashioned poetry, and 
 choicely good ; I think much better than 
 the strong lines that are now in fashion in 
 this critical age. Look yonder ! on my 
 word, yonder they both be a milking 
 again. I will give her the chub, and per- 
 suade them to sing those two songs to us : 
 
 " ' God speed you, goo# woman j I have 
 been a fishing, and am going to Bleak-hall 
 to my bed, and, having caught more fish 
 than will sup myself and ray friend, I will 
 bestow this upon you and your daughter, 
 for I use to sell none. 
 
 " ' Milk woman. — Marry, God requite 
 you sir, and we'll eat it cheerfully ; and if 
 you come this way a fishing two months 
 hence, a grace of God I'll give you a sil- 
 Kbub of new verjuice, in a new made hay- 
 cock for it, and my Maudlin shall sing you 
 one of her best ballads ; for she and I 
 both love all anglers, they be such honest, 
 civil, quiet men; in the meantime will 
 you drink a draught of red-cow's milk ? 
 you shall have it freely.' " 
 
 In this beautiful manner the dialogue 
 runs on, and the songs are sung by the 
 milk-woman and her daughter; but to 
 fpeak of the beauties of Isaac Walton's 
 Angler is almost a supererogation, now 
 that it is in the hands of every lover of 
 nature, tranquillity, and contentment. 
 
 EUMILYS. 
 
 ■II h. m. 
 
 November 6. — Day breaks , . 5 25 
 
 Sun rises . . . 7 20 
 
 — sets . . . 4 40 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 35 
 
 7th November, 1677, Anthony Wood 
 enters in his Diary — " About otie in the 
 morning the lord Chancellor Finch his 
 mace was stolen out of his house in 
 Queen-street. The seal laid under his 
 pillow, so the thief missed it. The famous 
 thief that did it was Thomas Sadler, soon 
 after taken and hanged Jor it at Tyburn." 
 
 AsfcOT, WlNKFIELD, AND EaST 
 
 Hampstead. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 From Ascot Heath towards Reading, 
 the traveller will' pass through Bracknell, 
 
 a village owing its existence to the road 
 made some fifty or sixty years ago. Be- 
 fore that road was formed, a hostelris 
 existed, known by its present sign, " the 
 Hind's Head." It was then known to be 
 the rendezvous of certain persons who 
 lived by causing others to cease to exist ; 
 and standing, as it did, alone, on the 
 dreary heath, it was regarded by the 
 rustics with that superstitious awe which 
 the timid feel so near the purlieus of 
 abodes reputed to be haunted. The 
 countryman chose rather to go five miles 
 out of its way, than one within it. Many 
 stories are related of travellers putting 
 up at that inn for the night, and resting 
 there for ever. One of these narratives I 
 well remember. 
 
 One winter's night, a stoutrhearted 
 grazier, travelling from London to Read- 
 ing, stopped at the Hind's Head. After 
 seeing his horse to the stable, he sought 
 the glow of the kitchen fire, where he 
 found several jolly fellows, with laughing 
 looks, and light hearts. He joined their 
 company; they ate heartily, and drank 
 merrily. The farmer related the particu- 
 lars of his journey to London, the market 
 price of cattle, the price he had obtained 
 for his own ; and, the last stoop of liquor 
 being emptied, with a hearty hob and nob, 
 the serving girl showed the traveller to his 
 chamber. As he was about to give her a 
 hearty salute before she left the room, she 
 whispered, " Listen : you mistake the ob- 
 ject of your pretended regard : if you 
 love me, love yourself, and save your life. 
 You are surrounded by murderers and 
 robbers. To night they have drank 
 deeper than ordinary, and you may pre- 
 serve yourself and me. Here," pointing 
 to the bed, " is a trap-door ; it will fall 
 down if you step upon it when you get 
 into bed, and you will tumble headlong 
 into a deep well, and then there's an end 
 of you." The traveller was sobered in a 
 moment by the fearful earnestness and in- 
 formation of the girl. She continued, " I 
 must be gone, and then do you sing, and 
 be noisy for some minutes, and tread 
 near that plank, as though you were about 
 to get into bed. Tie the bed, and what 
 else you can, into a.heavy bundle, put it 
 on the plank; it will go down, and you — 
 you must look to the window for your 
 only chance of escape. God speed you ! " 
 The grazier, when left alone, soon re- 
 sumed his presence of mind; he sung 
 while he made*up the bundle — heaved it 
 on the terrible plank, and, in a moment, 
 
1321 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER. 8 
 
 1322 
 
 it descended through the floor, silently and 
 swiftly, and he heard its heavy splash in 
 deep water. He hastened to the window, 
 and saw the snow twelve or fourteen feet 
 below in the back yard. He leaped, 
 down, and a high wall opposed his further 
 progress, but he found the gate, gently 
 drew back the bolts, and then listened for 
 a moment at the front casement. Three 
 of his late friends were snoring; they 
 had fancied themselves secure of their 
 prey, and hastened not to despoil it. The 
 grazier found his horse in the stable, and 
 galloped off. He aroused a'neighbouring 
 former; they collected the farm servants, 
 and all, arming themselves, set off and 
 surrounded the house. The villains were 
 sleeping, and the maid watching. The 
 ruffians were all captured, and convicted 
 of their crimes on the evidence of the 
 girl. In the well the bones of men whom 
 they had entrapped testified the extent of 
 their guilt. The landlord was one of the 
 malefactors : they were all executed, and 
 the " Hind's Head " was shut up. 
 
 In the adjoining parish of Winkfield 
 there was formerly a strong castle, and it 
 is said that through one of its barons 
 the inhabitants of Winkfield came into 
 possession of their church in a remark- 
 able manner. This baron was very pow- 
 erful, and is reported to have been so 
 wicked that he sold himself to Satan. In 
 his old age he was sorry for the bargain, 
 and confessed himself to priests, and they 
 enjoined him to build and endow a 
 church. He built the church and pro- 
 vided an endowment ; but, to the admira- 
 tion of all, on the morning appointed for 
 Consecrating the church, it was not to be 
 sfeen — not a vestige remained — the devil 
 had removed it in the night. The old baron 
 built another, which suddenly disap- 
 peared in like manner. The priests sum- 
 moned Satan to show cause why he had 
 done all this. He answered that the 
 baron, body and soul, and all that be- 
 longed to him in this life, was his. ' His 
 plea was overruled, and the priests de- 
 cided that the church was theirs, to be 
 held by them, in trust, for their patron 
 5iiint, as an atonement for the sins of the 
 repentant baron sinner, and they ordered 
 Satan to place a church on the spot 
 whence he had removed the two churches 
 in succession. Upon this decree Satan 
 flew to Winkfield, seized three bams, 
 placed the two smaller carallel with the 
 largest, and Winkfield cnurcfa remains to 
 
 this day the resemblance of three barns 
 stuck together. 
 
 At East Hampstead, near Bagshot 
 Heath, and adjoining ^Bracknell, there 
 was formerly a curious custom on the in- 
 stallation of a new lord of the manor. 
 The inhabitants carried the lord in a chair 
 on their shoulders round the manor, their 
 march commencing from a hill (the name 
 of which I forget), and, after the circuit 
 of the manorial boundary, the lord was 
 unchaired on the said hill, and the inha- 
 bitants inflicted sundry stripes upon his 
 breach with twigs. After enduring this 
 chastisement, the inhabitants diued, and 
 passed the remainder of the day con- 
 vivially with their lord. 
 
 1831 T. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 Novemler 7. — Day breaks . . 5 26 
 
 Sun rises ... 7 22 
 
 — sets . . . 4 38 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 34 
 
 Nottemtifi: 8. 
 
 Ladt Jeffery Dunstan. 
 f For the Year Book.J 
 On Saturday, November 8th, 1818, the 
 remains of the " lady" of " the independ- 
 ent Mayor of Garrett," sir Jeffery Dun- 
 stau, were interred, agreeably to her own 
 request, in the grave n( her husband in 
 Whitechapel chufchyard ; the inscription 
 on her coffin stated her to be in her 101st 
 year. Only two persons followed in 
 funeral habilaments, but the streets were 
 rendered impassable by a numerous body 
 of spectators, anxiously assembled "^to 
 see the last" of one who had so long 
 figured in that neighbourhood as " a 
 public character." From a person to 
 whom she was known, I gathered that, 
 at the time of her decease, she occupied a 
 wretched apartment in Ducking-pond- 
 lane, in that parish, — that the cause of 
 her death was more attributable to the 
 merciless pressure of " the cold chill 
 hand" of penury, than from infirmity; 
 for, although her age was so far advanced, 
 her natural powers remained unimpaired 
 to the last. In her husband's life-time, 
 and also when in a state of widowhood, 
 she claimed the soi-disant title of, and was 
 duly recognised as, "Mayoress of Gar- 
 rett." She survived sir Jeffery twenty- 
 one years 
 
323 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBEK 8. 
 
 1334 
 
 Apropos. — A colored print, a " Portrait 
 tf sir Jeffery DuDStan, M. P. for Garrett," 
 with a legend beneath it. 
 
 ", When you've got money, yoi/rc looked 
 
 upon — 
 But when you've got none, you may go 
 
 along f" — 
 
 was familiar to me in my " days of child- 
 hood :" it was one of a many " neatly 
 framed and glazed," that " bedecked" the 
 walls of a " low roofed cot" (in my native 
 town of Baldopk, in Hertfordshire), the 
 dwelling-place of " the schoolmistress," 
 an antiquated, and a venerated dame, 
 who first taught me and other " luckless 
 wights" to con the ABC, from a horn- 
 alphabet-book," a " literary article" then 
 considered indispensable to the scholastic 
 avocation, but cow entirely disused. 
 
 *!s. m- 53. 
 
 RoTAL Arms, Lions and Leopards. 
 [For tlio Year Book.] 
 
 Me. Editoh, 
 
 A few years ago it was a mooted point, 
 among the unlearned in the science of 
 Heraldry, whether the animals which 
 adorn the British achievements were lions 
 or leopards. I send you the opinion of 
 the learned and judicious Alexander Nis- 
 bett upon the subject, which will, I should 
 thmk, apppar condusive. 
 
 ." Sir John Feme, one of the learned in 
 his time, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, 
 in his book, entitled The Glory of Gen- 
 erosity, p. 218, says thus (his own words) : 
 The Escutcheon of Normandy was ad- 
 vanced, as the ensign of our English 
 Kings, by William the Conqueror, Wil- 
 liam Rufus, Henry I., and Henry II. 
 The last having married Eleanor, heiress 
 of Aquitain, whose arms were Gules a 
 Leopard, Or, which being of the same 
 field, metal, and form, with bis own, joined 
 them together in one shield, and com- 
 posed the present blazon for England, 
 viz. : Gules 3 Leopards Or ; and, in an an- 
 other place the same author adds. These 
 two coats, viz. Aquitain and Normandy, 
 were joined in one, and by them the ad- 
 dition of the inheritance of Eleanor, 
 heiress of Aquitain, to our English crown, 
 and therefore are borne as a quadrate royal, 
 by our sovereign lady queen Elizabeth. 
 The same says Guilliams, Chamberland, 
 and others. And these arms, so.qomposed, 
 were placesl on his funeral monument, 
 
 when he was interred in the abbey of 
 Fontewrad in Anjou, and adorned with 
 other shields of arms, as those of the 
 Saxon race, upon the account that in him 
 the Saxon blood was restored by his 
 grandfather's marriage as before. The 
 structure of which monument is given to 
 us in Sandford's Genealogical History, 
 jj. 64. " Before I proceed further, I 
 must insist a little upon the opinions of 
 some late English writers, who will have 
 the three Leopards ndt to be originajly 
 from Normandy, but first assumed by 
 Henry II. or by Richard I., and thai 
 their predecessors had no arms before ; 
 they not fixing upon which of these two 
 kinds to place their rise and first use in 
 England, though these arms be of the 
 same tinctures, form, position, and situa- 
 tion, and nothing different in any circum-. 
 stance from those of Normandy and 
 Aquitain ! neither will they allow them, 
 to be blazoned Leopards, hui Lions passant 
 guardani, upon the account that the Leo- 
 pards of Normandy and Aquitain are 
 now thought derogatory to the royalty of 
 England, as not being originally ensigns 
 of kingdoms. These opinions were 
 raised first, if I be not mistaken, upon 
 King James VI.'s accession to the throne 
 of England, when there were several con- 
 siderations and consultations taken about 
 the honors and precedency of his king- 
 dom of Scotland and England ; and es- 
 jjecially in marshalling their armorial 
 ensigns, the difficulty arising from the 
 armorial figures being originally those of 
 the dukedoms of Normandy and Aqui- 
 tain, which as such gave place to the 
 flower de lisses of France, as belonging 
 to a kingdom. Upon the same reason 
 the Scots claimed also precedency for 
 their armorial figure, the lion rampant. 
 The English being put to a stand were 
 necessitated to assert that the figures they 
 carried- for England were not those of 
 Normandy and Aquitain, though as like 
 as one egg to another, but new ones as- 
 sumed by their kings since the conquest. 
 To make this appear, their piincipal 
 herald, William Segar, garter king at 
 arms, was employed ; and how well he 
 performed, any herald or historian may 
 judge by his manuscript, which he gave 
 in to king James, entitled the variation 
 of the arms and badges of the kingdom 
 of England, from the time of Brutus, 
 1000 years before the incarnation of 
 Christ, till 160§ years after his incarna- 
 tion, 1604. Though he promises ill' his 
 
1335 
 
 TUB YEAR BOOK. -NOVEMBER, 8. 
 
 1338 
 
 preface to give approved authors for what 
 he says, yet he names no author in all 
 thai manuscript, and begins vrith the 
 imaginary story of Brutus, monarch of 
 Britain ; and of his division of it unto 
 his three sons. To his eldest, Locheren, 
 Brutus gave that part now called England, 
 with arms, Or, a Lion passant guardant. 
 Gules. To his second son, Toalknack, 
 he gave the north part Albania, now 
 Scotiand, with arms. Or, a Lion ram- 
 pant, Gules, which to this day, says he 
 (Segar), with the royal addition of the 
 double tressure continue the arms of 
 Scotland. And to his third son he gave 
 that part of Britain called Cambria, with 
 arms Argent, three Lions passant guardant. 
 Gules, which the princes of Wales used 
 for a long time. Segar goes on with a 
 succession of these arms without naming 
 one voucher ; and when he comes to the 
 Saxon, Danish, and Norman kings, he 
 gives such an account as is given before 
 until he comes unto Henry II. ; then he 
 says, (his' [Segar's] own words], — He 
 being the son of Maud the Empress, and 
 of Geoffry Plamagenet Earl of Anjou, 
 took for arms, Gules, 3 Lions passant 
 guardant, Or, because in Henry I. the line- 
 masculine ended, and therefore they are 
 much deceived who say that the kings of 
 England bear three leopards, two for the 
 dukedom of Normandy and one for Aqui- 
 tain. 'Tis strange (Segar) gives no reason 
 to undeceive his own countrymen and 
 others, nor to mention any cause or 
 ground for changing these leopards into 
 lions passant guardant, nor for making a 
 distinction between leopards and lions 
 passant guardant, for in heraldry there is 
 none; for a lion passant and full faced, 
 and showing both his eyes (which the 
 English call guardant) is called a leopard 
 by the French, and all other nations, and 
 there is no appearance of alteration of the 
 field, position and tinctures of the leopards 
 of Normandy and Aqaitain, from the 
 arms of England as now blazoned, lions 
 passant guardant, but in the terras of 
 blazon, which are all one in the Science 
 of Heraldry, and Art of Blazon ; for 
 when a lion is on his four feet showing a 
 full face, he is called a leopard, and when 
 showing but the half of his face and only 
 one eye, he is then called leopard-lionee ; 
 leopard, because not erected on his hinder 
 feet, which is the proper position- of a 
 lion in armories ; lionee, because fais head 
 is in profile, showingTjut the half of his 
 face, which all lions properly do, being 
 
 erected on their hinder feet, and their 
 head in profile ; but, if erected and full- 
 faced, he is called a lion-leopardee, his 
 head being afl:er the position of that of a 
 leopard, but his body after the position of 
 that of a lion. In heraldry, natural spots 
 of a leopard do not distinguish it from a 
 lion, but its position as above, in the 
 shield. Those of England have not only 
 been called by the old English heralds 
 leopards, but even by English historians, 
 at Mr. Howel, in his History of England, 
 and John Stow, in his large survey of 
 London, p. 42, both tell, that Anno 1235 
 Frederick the Emperor sent to Henry [II. 
 in England, in compliment, three live 
 leopard, in token of his royal shield of 
 arms, wherein three leopards were pic- 
 tured, and tells us that in the register of 
 London there is an order of king Edward 
 II. to the sheriff, to pay to the keepers of 
 the king's leopards in the tower of Lon- 
 don, sixpence each day for the sustenance 
 of the leopards. I shall not insist upon a 
 long numeration of English heralds, for 
 blazoning the figures of England leopards, 
 nor of the French, and those who write 
 in latin, as Philobertus Munetius, Ure- 
 dius, and others. Latinize them leopardos. 
 The modern herald and learned anti- 
 quary, Jacob Imhoff, in his above men- 
 tioned book, calls them leopardos Angli- 
 canos. 'Tis true, for the majesty of 
 England, some English writers say, they 
 should be called lions passant guardant : 
 upon which account, I have before, and 
 shall after blazon them so.'"* 
 
 I think, Mr. Editor, the only things Mr. 
 Nisbett needed to have added were the 
 three Roman capitals Q. E. D. See fur- 
 ther the following extract from " Carter's 
 Analysis of Honor," p. 232. Gules, a 
 lion passant guardant, Or which being the 
 coat-armor of the dukes of Aquitaine, 
 was joined with the coat of the kings of 
 England, by the match of Henry the II. 
 being before two lions, the posture and 
 colors one; then indeed called leopards, 
 as they are most properly so called (where 
 they are not of royal bearing) if they be 
 more than one in a field, and guaiilant as 
 Guillim would have it." 
 
 In confirmation, Mr. Editor, of the 
 judgment of Mr. Nisbett, the celebrated 
 herald before cited, allow me to present 
 you with a short extract from a very old 
 French MS. in my possession. 
 
 * Nisbett's " Ancient and Modem Ute of 
 Armorica," ii. 159, et. seq. 
 
1327 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 8. 
 
 1328 
 
 , " Toutes bestes qui sont en armes )en 
 doivt blasonner lestal, a la fachon, except 
 liions et leopars. Car les lyons de leur 
 nature sont rompans, et leopars sont paa- 
 sans, et ce est le premiere difference entre 
 lyons et leopars. Et sil sont an coptraire, 
 on dit ung lyon leoparde, et ung leopart 
 lyonne. L^utre difference est car le lyon 
 en armes a tant seuUement ung oeul, et 
 le leopar en lautre cost^ en a deux." 
 
 In the same MS. the arms of the dukes 
 of Acquitaine and Normandy are thus 
 blasoned. 
 
 Le due dacquitaine — de guilles, a ung 
 lupart d'or en face, arme et lampaisse 
 d'azur. 
 
 Te dtic de Normendie, de Guelles a 
 deux luppars d'or en fache arme et lam- 
 passe d azur, 
 
 Fecialis Peritus. 
 
 that point of the horizon from whence the 
 wind doth blow, is a received opinion 
 and very strange — introducing natural 
 weathercocks, and extending magnetical 
 positions as far as animal natures : a 
 conceit supported chiefly by present prac- 
 tice, yet not made out by reason or expe- 
 rience." 
 
 At the present day common sailors ac- 
 count it very unlucky to lose a bucket or 
 a mop. To throw a cat over-board, or 
 drown one at sea, is the same. Childien 
 are deemed lucky to a ship. Whistling 
 at sea is supposed to cause increase of 
 wind, and is therefore much disliked by 
 seamen, though sometimes they themselves 
 practise it when there is a dead calm, 
 
 Sailors' Omens. 
 
 Sailors, usually the boldest men alive, 
 are yet frequently the very abject slaves 
 of superstitious fear. "Innumerable," 
 says Scot on Witchcraft, p. 53, " are the 
 reports of accidents nnto such as frequent 
 the seas, as fishermen and sailors, who 
 discourse of noises, flashes, shadows, 
 echoes, and other visible appearances, 
 nightly seen and heard upon the surface 
 of the water." 
 
 Andrews, in his " Anecdotes," says, 
 " Superstition and profaneness, those ex- 
 tremes of human conduct, are too often 
 found united in the sailor ; and the man 
 who dreads the stormy effects of drowning 
 a cat, or of whistling a country dance 
 while he leans over the gunwale, will, too 
 often, wantonly defy his Creator by the 
 most daring execrations and the most li- 
 centious behaviour." 
 
 Dr. Pegge says, " Our sailors, I am 
 tpld, at this very day, I mean the vulgar 
 sort X)f them, have a strange opinion of 
 the devil's power and agency in stirring 
 up winds, and that is the reason they so 
 seldom wliistle on ship-board, esteeming 
 that to be a mocking, and consequently 
 an enraging of the devil. And it ap- 
 pears now that even Zoroaster himself 
 imagined there was an evil spirit, called 
 Vato, that could excite violent storms of 
 wind." 
 
 Sir Thomas Browne has the following 
 singular pissage : — " That a king-fisher, 
 hanged by the bill, showeth us what 
 quarter the wind is, by an occult and 
 SCciPt propriety, converting the breast to 
 
 Old Nick. 
 
 Mr. Brand alleges that the name " Old 
 Nick," as applied to the devil, is of great 
 antiquity ; and that there is a great deal 
 of learning concerning it in Olans Wor- 
 mius's Danish monuments. We bor- 
 rowed it from the title of an evil genius 
 among the ancient Danes. They say he 
 has often appeared on the sea, and on 
 deep rivers, in the shape of a sea monster, 
 presaging immediate shipwreck and 
 drowning to seamen." Keysler mentions 
 a Deity of the waters, worshipped by the 
 ancient Germans and Danes, under the 
 name of Nocca, or Nicken, styled in the 
 Edda Nikur, which he derives from the 
 German Nugen, answering to the Latin 
 necare. Wormius says, the redness in 
 the faces of drowned persons was ascrib- 
 ed to this deity's sucking their b.ood out 
 at their nostrils, Wasthovius, and Loc- 
 cenius, call him Neccus. Rudbekius 
 mentions a notion prevalent among his 
 countrymen, that JVecfcur, who governed 
 the sea, assumed the form of various 
 animals, or of a horseman, or of a man 
 in a boat. He sipposes him the same 
 with Odin ; but more probably he was 
 the Northern Neptune, or some sea-god 
 of a noxious disposition. Archdeacon 
 Nares says there is no doubt that Nick. 
 was a very old name among the northerns 
 for the devil, and that from them we de-> 
 rive our " Old Nick." 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 November 8.-,- Day breaks , , 
 
 , 5 27 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 7 24 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 4 36 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 33 
 
13'23 
 
 Tlir. YEAR BOOK—NOVEMBER 8. 
 
 HAND WHEEL SPINNING. 
 
 This is another engraving from " Mr. 
 Guest's History of the Cotton Manufac- 
 ture." It represents roving and spinning, 
 with the hand-cards, or combs (at the feet 
 of the first female), from which the cotton, 
 after being combed or carded, between 
 them, was scraped off in rolls about 
 twelve inches long, and three-quarters of 
 an inch in diameter. These rolls, called 
 cardings, were drawn out into rovings, 
 or threads, by twisting one end to the 
 spindle of a hand-wheel, and turning the 
 wheel which moved the spindle with the 
 right hand, at the same time drawing out 
 the carding horizontally with the left. 
 The motion thus communicated to the 
 carding turned it spirally ; when twisted 
 it was wound upon the spindle, another 
 carding was attached to it, and drawn 
 out and twisted. This process formed a 
 continued coarse thread, or roving, and 
 the performance of it is shown by the 
 
 before-mentioned female, whose cardings 
 are represented lying across the knee. 
 The rovings from her spindle were then 
 taken to the other female to be spun by 
 her hand-wheel into weft, nearly in the 
 same manner as the cardings for the 
 weaver were made into rovings., -.The 
 cardings were drawn out at the first 
 wheel, in an angle of forty or fifty-five 
 degrees irom the point of the spindle; 
 in spinning, the rovings weie drawn out 
 nearly in a right angle. The hand-wheel 
 was the first instrument used in spinning; 
 the first deviation from the simple, ancient 
 mode of spinning by the distaff, towards 
 that system of manufacture which has 
 converted Lancashire and Derbyshire, into 
 the great machinery districts for spintiing 
 and weaving. It should be observed, 
 however, that the hand-*heel was first 
 used in the woollen manufacture. 
 When the comfort of the wear, and the 
 
1331 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 8. 
 
 1322 
 
 exports abroad, increased the demand for 
 cottons, the demand of the cotton-weavers 
 for cotton -yarn, or thread, for the purpose 
 of manufacture, increased until the spin- 
 ners were unable to supply the weavers 
 with weft. Those weavers whose families 
 could not furnish the necessary supply of 
 weft, had their spinning done by their 
 neighbours, and were obliged to pay more 
 for the spinning than the price allowed 
 by their masters ; and even with this dis- 
 advantage very few could procure weft 
 enough to keep themselves constantly 
 employed. It was no uncommon thing 
 for a weaver to walk three or four miles 
 in a morning, and call on five or six 
 spinners, before he cou,ld collect weft to 
 serve him for the remainder of the day ; 
 and, when he wished to weave a piece in 
 a shorter time than usual, a new ribbon, 
 or gown, was necessary to quicken the 
 exertions of the spinner. It is evident 
 that an important cri'sis for the cotton 
 manufacture of Lancashire was now ar- 
 rived. It must either receive an extm- 
 ordinary impulse, or, like most other 
 human affairs, after enjoying a partial 
 prosperity, retrograde. ' The spinners 
 could not supply enough weft for the 
 weavers. The first consequence of 
 this would be to raise the price of 
 spinning. In the then state of man- 
 ners and prejudices, when the facilities 
 of communication between places were 
 less, and the population generally pos- 
 sessed much greater antipathy to leaving 
 their native place than at present, this 
 inducement would have failed to bring 
 together a sufficient number of hand spin- 
 ners, and a farther rise in the price of 
 spinning must have been the consequence. 
 This would have rendered the price of the 
 manufactured cloth too great to have been 
 purchased for home or foreign consump- 
 tion, for which its cheapness must of 
 course have been the principal induce- 
 ment. 
 
 In this state of difficulty, about the year 
 1763, Thomas Highs, of Leigh, in Lanca- 
 shire, is said to have produced the ma- 
 chine known by the name of the Spinning 
 Jenny, and to have so called it after his 
 daughter, whose baptismal name was 
 Jane. This invention displaced the spin- 
 ■ ning-wheels. It performed the double 
 operation of roving and spinning, as re- 
 presented in the engraving, and worked 
 six spindles, which were afterwards in- 
 creased to twenty-five. James Haigrave, 
 a carpenter, of Blackburn, in Lancashire, 
 
 improved that invention, and it was sub- 
 sequently so perfected that a little girl 
 could work from eighty to one hundred 
 and twenty spindles, which spun cotton 
 for weft or threads. Richard Arkwright, 
 a barber of Manchester, with, the assist- 
 ance of the celebrated Mr. Jedediah 
 Strutt of Derby, ultimately produced 
 the last great invention, the spinning- 
 frame. Arkwright acquired an immense 
 fortune, and the honor of knighthood. 
 Tlie rest may be gathered from books,, 
 and from the inspection of the Manches- 
 ter cotton mills. What is added as to 
 the sale of cotton goods, and the change 
 in the population, is derived from Mr. 
 Guest's " History." 
 
 About 1750 the method of conducting 
 the cotton manufacture was as follows : — 
 
 The ra.isler- gave out a warp and raw 
 cotton to the weaver, and received them 
 back in cloth, paying the weaver for the 
 weaving and spinning ; the weaver, if the 
 spinning was not done by his own family, 
 paid the spinner for the spinning, and 
 the spinner paid the carder and rover. 
 
 The master attended the weekly market 
 at Manchester, and sold his pieces in the 
 grey to the merchant, who afterwards 
 dyed and finished them. Instead of tra- 
 velling with their goods on pack-horses, the 
 merchants or their travellers now rode from 
 town to town, carrying with them patterns 
 or samples, and on their return home the 
 goods sold during the journey were for- 
 warded by the carriers' waggons. 
 
 This practice, far more commodious 
 than the rude and inconvenient mode of 
 carrying their merchandize from town tp 
 town, has become general, not only ii\ 
 this, but in every other business; and it 
 may now be asserted that the whole of 
 the internal wholesale trade of England 
 is carried on by commercial travellers— 
 they pervade every town, village, and 
 hamlet, in the kingdom, carrying their 
 samples and patterns, and taking orders 
 from the retail tradesmen, and afterwards 
 forwarding the goods by waggons, or 
 canal barges, to their destination : — they 
 form more than one-half of the immense 
 number of persons who are constantly 
 travelling through the country in all di- 
 rections, and are the principal support of 
 our inns, the neatness and comfort of 
 which are so much celebrated throughout 
 Europe. 
 
1333 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 8. 
 
 1334 
 
 The population ot Laocashire, before 
 the introduction of the cotton manufac- 
 ture, was chiefly agricultural, and a favor- 
 able picture of its state may be found in 
 Addison's character of sir Roger de Co- 
 verley. In those days the squire was the 
 feudal lord of the neighbourhood, and his 
 residence, or the hall as it was called, 
 was looked upon in the light of a palace. 
 He was the dictator of opinion, the regu- 
 lator of parish affairs, and the exclusive 
 settler of all disputes. On holidays the 
 rustics were invited to the hall, where 
 -they wrestled, ran races, played at quoits, 
 and drank ale. An invitation to the hall 
 was a certificate of good character ; not 
 to be Invited along with his neighbours 
 was a reproacVi to a man ; because no one 
 was uninvited unless he had been guilty 
 of some impropriety. The clergyman 
 had scarcely less influence than the squire : 
 his sacred character, and his superior at- 
 tainments gave him great authority; he 
 was generally from Oxford, and in those 
 days the appellation of Oxford scholar 
 was understood to describe a man of 
 learning and piety. He never met the 
 elders of his flock without the kindest 
 enquiries after the welfare of their fami- 
 lies, and, as his reproof was dreaded, so 
 his commendation was sought, by young 
 and old. Incontinence in man or woman 
 was esteemed a heinous offence, and 
 neglecting or refusing to pay a just debt 
 was scarcely ever heard of. Twice at 
 church on Sundays, a strict obser\-ancc of 
 fast-days, and a regular reading of the 
 scriptures every Sunday evening, at which 
 the youngsters, after putting oS' their best 
 clothes, were always present, were uniform 
 and established customs. The events of 
 the neighbourhood flowed in a regular, 
 unbroken train ; politics were a fleld 
 little entered into^ and the histories of 
 each other's families, including cousins 
 five times removed, with rnarriages, births, 
 deaths. Sec, formed the almost only sub- 
 jects of their conversations. 
 
 The farmer was content to take on 
 trust the old modes of husbandry and 
 management practised by his forefathers 
 for generations; and new improvements 
 were received, or rather viewed, with dis- 
 like and contempt. There was little fluc- 
 tuation in prices, little competition be- 
 tween individuals, and the mind became 
 contracted from this general stagnation, 
 and its being so seldom roused to exertion. 
 Men being mostly employed alone, or 
 having few but their own femilies to eon- 
 
 verse with, had not their understandings 
 rubbed bright by contact and an inter- 
 change of ideas ; they witnessed a mo- 
 notonous scene of life which communicated 
 a corresponding dulness and mechanical 
 action to their minds. The greatest va- 
 rieties of scene which they witnessed 
 were the market day of the village, and 
 the attendance at church on the Sabbath, 
 and the summum bonum of their lives was 
 to sit vacant and inactive in each other's 
 houses, to sun themselves in the market- 
 place> or to talk over new« at the great 
 mart of village gossip, the blacksmith's 
 shop. 
 
 It is obvious that the morals of the 
 people would, in a great measure, take 
 their tone from the character of the squire. 
 In one particular neighbourhood, where, 
 fifty years ago, the squire was a man of 
 superior understanding, expanded mind, 
 amiable disposit'on, diffusive benevolence, 
 and of the most pure and spotless integrity, 
 the good effects of his residence among 
 his tenantry were pre-eminantly con- 
 spicuous. 
 
 The progress of the cotton manufacture 
 introduced great changes in the manners 
 and habits of the people. The operative 
 workmen, being thrown together in great 
 numbers, had their faculties sharpened 
 and improved, byconstant communiaition. 
 Conversation wandered over a variety of 
 topics not before essayed ; the questions 
 of peace and war, which interested them 
 importantly, inasmuch as they might pro- 
 duce a rise or fall of wages, became highly 
 interesting, and this brought them into 
 the vast field of politics and discussions 
 on the character of their government, and 
 the men who composed it. ' They took a 
 greater interest in the defeats and victories 
 of their country's arms, and, from being 
 only a few degrees above their cattle in 
 the scale of intellect, they became politi- 
 cal citizens. 
 
 To these changes the establishing of 
 Sunday-schools has very much contri- 
 buted. Before their institution the lower 
 orders were extremely illiterate; very 
 few of them could read, and still fewer 
 could write, and when one of them learned 
 to read, write, and cast accounts, those 
 acquirements elevated him to a superior 
 rank. His clerkly skill exempted him 
 from manual labour, and as a shopman, 
 book-keeper, or town's officer — perchance 
 in the higher dignity of parish-clerk, or 
 schoolmaster — be rose a step above his 
 original situaiion in life. 
 
1335 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 1336 
 
 The labourers and operative workmen 
 were Jormerly sunk in the depths of igno- 
 rance ; they seldom formed an opinion of 
 their own, and were content to believe 
 every thing their superiors told them. 
 Sunday-schools have greatly assisted in 
 dispelling this thick cloud of ignorance ; 
 they have taught the mass of the people 
 to read, and the countless publications 
 dispersed over the country, in monthly 
 portions, or numbers, at sixpence, nine- 
 pence, or one shilling per number, have 
 taught them to reason and think for them- 
 selves. During the last forty years the 
 mind of the labouring class (taking them 
 as a body) has been progressively im- 
 proving, and within the last twenty has 
 made an advance of centuries, and is still 
 advancing with accelerated rapidity. 
 
 The facility with which the weavers 
 changed their masters, the constant effort 
 to find out and obtain the largest remu- 
 neration for their labour, the excitement 
 to ingenuity which the higher wages for 
 fine manufactures and skilful workman- 
 ship produced, and a conviction that they 
 depended mainly on their own exertions, 
 produced in them that invaluable feeling, 
 a spirit of freedom and independence, 
 and that guarantee for good conduct and 
 improvement of manners, a consciousness 
 of the value of character, and of their own 
 weight and importance. 
 
 The practical truth of these remarks 
 must be obvious to every one who has 
 served on the jury of Lancaster, and 
 compared the bright, penetrating, shrewd, 
 and intelligent jurors from the south of 
 the country, with the stupidity and utter 
 ignorance of those from its northern parts. 
 
 The amusements of the people have 
 changed with their character. The ath- 
 letic exercises of quoits, wrestling, foot- 
 ball, prison-bars, and shooting with the 
 long-bow, are become obsolete and almost 
 forgotten ; and it is to be regretted that 
 the present pursuits and pleasures of the 
 labouring class are of a more effeminate 
 cast. -They are now pigeon-fanciers, ca- 
 nary breeders, and tulip-growers. The 
 field-sports, too, have assumed a less 
 hardy and enterprising character. Instead 
 of the squire with his merry harriers, and 
 a score or two of ruddy, broad-chested 
 yeomen, scouring the fields on foot, heed- 
 less of thorn or briarj and scorning to 
 turn aside for copse or ditch, we now see 
 half-a-dozen fustian masters and shop- 
 keepers, with three or four greyhounds 
 lad as many beagles, attacking the poor 
 
 hare with such a superiority, both as re- 
 spects scent and fleeiness, as to give her 
 no chance of escape, and pouncing u| on 
 their game like poachers, rather than 
 pursuiiie it with the fairness and hardi- 
 hood of hunters. 
 
 Lord Mayor's Day. 
 
 On the annual aquatic procession of 
 the lord mayor of London to Westminster, 
 the barge of the company of stationers, 
 which is usually the first in the show, 
 proceeds to Lambeth palace ; where, from 
 time immemorial, they have received a 
 present of sixteen bottles of the arch- 
 bishop's prime wine. This custom origin- 
 ated at the beginning of the last century : 
 — When archbishop Tenison enjoyed the 
 see, a very near relation of his, who hap- 
 pened to be master of the stationers' 
 company, thought it a compliment to call 
 there in full state, and in his barge : when 
 the archbishop, being informed that the 
 number of the company within the barge 
 was thirty-two, he thought that a pint of 
 wine for each would not be disagreeable ; 
 and ordered, at the same time, that a 
 sufficient quantity of new bread and old 
 cheese, with plenty of strong ale, should 
 be given to the watermen and attendants : 
 and from that accidental circumstanie it 
 has grown into a settled custom. The 
 company, in return, presents to the arch- 
 bishop a copy of the several almanacks 
 which they have the peculiar privilege of 
 publishing.* 
 
 A splendid banquet is always provided 
 at Guildhall, at the expense of the lord 
 mayor and sheriffs, and about 1300 per- 
 sons, male and female, sit down to dinner; 
 which, from the disposition of the tables,. 
 *he sumptuousness of the viands, the 
 arrangement of the company, the brilliancy 
 of the lights, music, and decorations, and 
 the general good humor and hilarity that 
 prevails, is one of the most interesting 
 spectacles in the British metropolis. . The 
 festivities of the day conclude with a 
 grand ball ; and, as every possible kind 
 of refreshment is provided for the visitors, 
 the meeting never breaks up till a very 
 late hour. The charges of the lord 
 mayor's feast commonly amount to about 
 £3000 ; and, as splendid entertainments 
 
 • Gents. Mag., 1800. 
 
J 337 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 i333 
 
 are also given at the respective halls of 
 the principal city companies, as well as 
 by numerous other parties, the total ex- 
 
 penditure for public dinners on this day 
 is supposed to averaj,'e from £8000 to 
 £10,000. 
 
 Inscribed to an Alderman. 
 
 Know ye the land where the leaf of the myrtle 
 
 Is bestow'd on good livers in ealiug sublime ? 
 Where the rage for fat ven'son, and love of the turtle, 
 
 Preside o'er the realms of an epicure clime ? 
 Know ye the land where the juice of the vine 
 Makes Aldermen learned, and Bishops divine ? 
 Where each Corporation, deep flushed with its bloom, 
 Waxes fat o'er the eyes of the claret's perfume ? 
 Thick spread is the table with choicest of fruit. 
 And the voice of the reveller never is mute : 
 Their rich robes, though varied, in beauty may vie, 
 Yet the purple of Bacchus is deepest in dye : — 
 'Tis the clime of the East — the return cf the sun 
 Looks down on the deeds which his children have done : 
 Then wild is the note, and discordant the yell, 
 When, reeling and staggering, they hiccup — Farewell. 
 
 The first morning lesson appointed by 
 the Rubric to be read on the 9th of 
 November is the 31st chapter of Ecclesi- 
 asticus, which, from the 12th verse to the 
 end, contains admonitions on temperance 
 in eating and drinking, and on the 
 observance of decorum at table, together 
 with advice on the advantages of hos- 
 pitality. — ^^— 
 
 It was to Robert Large, mayor of Lon- 
 don, in 1439, that William Caxton served 
 his apprenticeship as a mercer, in the 
 parish of St. Clave, Old Jewry. His 
 master, in the following year, left him 
 thirty-four marks as a testimonial of his 
 fidelity. When the art of printing was 
 discovered on the continent, Caxton made 
 himself an early master of it, and intro- 
 duced it into England, about 1474. He 
 printed most of his books within the 
 precincts of the monastery at Westminster. 
 
 On the 2nd of July, 1749, being the 
 day after the installation of the duke of 
 Newcastle, as the chancellor of the 
 University of Cambridge, among the 
 persons honored with the degree of doc- 
 tor of laws, was sir William Calvert, 
 knight, lord mayor of London. 
 
 The following' extract from a news- 
 paper printed in October, 1801, relates 
 to the late sir William Staines, 
 
 The Lord Mayor. 
 It is well known, and we mention the 
 circumstance to his honor, that this gen- 
 
 tleman was originally a common labouring 
 brickUyer; and we mention the subject 
 in order to introduce an anecdote with it, 
 which the worthy magistrate often repeats 
 with great satisfaction and delight. 
 
 In the humble situation we have men- 
 tioned, he happened at a very early age 
 to be employed in repairing the parsonage 
 house at Uxbridge.. Going up the ladder 
 one day, with his hod and mortar, he was 
 accosted by the parson's wife, who told 
 him she had a very extraordinary dream. 
 She told him that she had dreamt he 
 would one day become lord mayor of 
 London ! Astonished at such a prophecy, 
 Staines could only scratch his head, and 
 thank her honor for thinking of such a 
 vast promotion. He said he had neither 
 money nor friends; and, in short, the 
 business of the dream was only consi- 
 dered as dreams ought to be, and was 
 yery soon forgotten. 
 
 "The parson's wife, however, was not 
 so easily to be turned from her prognos- 
 tications, and the dream had evidently 
 left a great impression. Her mind was 
 bent on young Staines, and lord mayor he 
 should be. Accordingly the same dream 
 occurred again, and the same communi- 
 cation repeated to him, that he was born 
 to be lord mayor. The matter thus passed 
 off, and young Staines left the parsonage 
 house at Uxbridge, with no other impres- 
 sion than the kindness which had been 
 shov^n^ and the notice that had been 
 taken of him. 
 
 It was not until Mr. Staines was made 
 
1339 
 
 THE YEAK BOOK.— NOVEMBER 1». 
 
 1340 
 
 sheriff of London, that this dream became 
 much the subject of notice, though we 
 think there is little doubt but that it 
 made a lasting impression on his mind, 
 and probably was an incentive to laudable 
 industry through life. The Uxbridge 
 parson had by this time become old ; but 
 he lived long enough to be the sheriff's 
 . chaplain, and died during the sheriffalty. 
 But this is not the only miracle which 
 has occurred and been verified during 
 Mr. Staines's progress through life, and 
 we can vouch for the following being 
 as authentic and much more extraordinary 
 than the foregoing. An old lady, many 
 years ago, foretold Mr. Staines's fortune. 
 She said that he would be lord mayor 
 during a period of turbulence and scarcity; 
 that we should be at war with France; 
 but that, during his mayoralty, peace and 
 plenty would be restored. 
 
 The worthy magistrate was lately re- 
 lating this and other anecdotes, which he 
 is fond of doing over his pipe and glass ; 
 he observed on the prophecy of his old 
 friend, but expressed great doubt of its 
 being fulfilled in regard to a peace. Mr 
 Staines has happily lived to see even ibis 
 fulfilled ; and, as he has yet five weeks to 
 continue in his mayoralty, he hopes he 
 shall go out of office when bread is nine- 
 pence the quartern loaf 1 May his hopes 
 be verified. 
 
 h. m. 
 November 9. — Day breaks . . 5 29 
 
 Sun rises ... 7 25 
 — sets ... 4 35 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 31 
 
 "Noiiemfftv 10, 
 
 lOth November, 1769, died Captain 
 HoUymore, at Nine Elms, near Vauxhall. 
 His mother had prepossessed him when 
 a child that he should die on the 10th of 
 November, 1769; and, in consequence of 
 that prepossession, he made his will, and 
 gave orders about his funeral ; and, though 
 seemingly in perfect health when he went 
 to bed, was found dead next morning, 
 without the least sign of violence of any 
 kind. 
 
 Colony of Germans at Sbotley 
 Bridge. 
 - • Shotley Bridge, in the county of Dur- 
 ham, is a small village on the southern 
 bank of the river Derwent: the sur- 
 rounding scenery is wild and romantic, 
 and the Derwent, fringed with native 
 
 wood, wanders through rich haugh 
 grounds, finely contrasted with the 
 heathy hills (now striped with new in- 
 closures) which hem in the vale on the 
 north and south. 
 
 At Shotley Bridge, a colony of Ger- 
 man sword-cutlers, who tied from their 
 own country for the sake of religious 
 liberty, established themselves about the 
 reign of king William'. These quiet 
 settlers, who brought with- them habits of 
 industry, and moral and religious prin- 
 ciple, easily mragled with the children of 
 the dale, and forgot the language of their 
 forefathers. Few of the original names 
 are now left, but the trade is still carried 
 on, and sword-blades and scymitars of 
 excellent temper are manufactured for the 
 London market. Above the door-way of 
 two decent houses there are German in- 
 scriptions (copied also into divers huge 
 family Bibles) attesting the cause which 
 drove these emigrants from their " fader- 
 land" to seek, on the green brink of the 
 Derwent, protection under the equal law 
 of that country which has ever proved an 
 ark of refuge to the victims of religious 
 or political persecution. 
 
 Extracts from the parish register. 
 John, son of Henry Wofer, Shotley 
 Bridge, baptized April, 1692. Adam, 
 son of Adam and Mary Oley, baptized 
 April 16, 1692. William Henkels, and 
 Ann Vooz, married Feb. 13, 1727. 
 Hermon Moll, buried Dec. 6, 1713. 
 John Moll, Jan. 28, 1725-6. John Faws, 
 May 9, 1721. 
 
 28 April, 1721. John Voes, of Shot- 
 ley Bridge, sword-grinder, gives his 
 estate in Germany, called by the name of 
 Anffemhewman, being in the county of 
 Dusseldorf, to be disposed of by his 
 brother Johannes Smithart, of Soiling, 
 for the benefit of his wife and children, 
 Johannes and Margaret ; father-in-law, 
 Geo. Joplin, Christopher Harrison, and 
 Theoph. Smith, his brothers-in-law, 
 tutors, &c. Signed Jan. Vous. Witness 
 Wm. Buske, John WofTer, jun. 
 
 Such is the account of the colony of 
 Germans at Shotley Bridge, given in 
 Surtees' History of Durham. Having 
 lately been at the place, 1 have, had an 
 opportunity of copying the inscriptions 
 alluded to, and of collecting some inform- 
 ation respecting these foreigners, and I 
 almost regret that my enquiries have de- 
 stroyed the interest with which the learned 
 historian has invested the occasion of their 
 visiting this country. 
 
134t 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 11. 
 
 1S4t 
 
 . Tbomasin Beckwiih, the hostess of the 
 lowly but comfortable Inn on the very 
 threshold of the bridge at Shotley, is the 
 grandchild ex parte materna of two of the 
 original settlers, and is I understand the 
 nearest surviving descendant. But this 
 old woman is quite superannuated and 
 from her I could gain no information; 
 her memory, even as to fects of the olden 
 time, is gone. I found two brothers of the 
 name of Oley, the great-grand-children 
 and descendants in the male line of the 
 Germans. By one of them I was told 
 that their forefathers were brought over 
 by a company of gentlemen, with the 
 license of government, as a commercial 
 speculation, and that, till the conclusion 
 of the last war, the manufacture of sword- 
 blades was carried on to a considerable 
 extent. Some are still made, but the de- 
 mand has nearly ceased ; and many of the 
 cutlers have almost literally converted 
 the instruments of war into scythes and 
 ploughshares, while others have sought 
 the labors of the forge in Sheffield and 
 other places. He told me that he believed 
 their name in Germany was, Oligar, which 
 he confirmed by the following fact. 
 Between forty and fifty years ago, James 
 Justice Runkle, a German pedlar, who 
 travelled in this country with his various 
 wares, smuggled over from the continent 
 a quantity of sword-blades, and, with a 
 view of legalizing them and giving them 
 currency, he applied to the father of my 
 informant for permissicu to put his name 
 upon them. This was accordingly done, 
 and they were sold under the name of 
 Oligar. But government ultimately de- 
 tected the fraud, and Oley gave evidence 
 in London that the suspected blades had 
 not issued from his manufactory at Shot- 
 ley. I asked the Oleys and others, and 
 searched the library of Thomasin Beck- 
 with^ for a German Bible, but I could 
 not even discover the trace of one. 
 
 I will now give the inscriptions as I 
 found them on stones above the doors of 
 houses better than the ordinary dwellings 
 of mechanics. The second is almost 
 gonp, and will soon be completely obliter- 
 ated; but I think sufficient remains to 
 show that it never attested that the settlers 
 were driven from their father-land by 
 religious intolerance. Besides it should 
 be observed that at the period of their 
 emigration (A. D. 1690) Germany enjoyed' 
 profound peace. 
 
 DES ' HEHBEN ' SEGEN ' UACHET 
 KEICH • OHN ■ ALEE • SOllG • WAN 
 DV • ZVGLXICK • IM ' DEIKEM 
 
 STAND ■ TREVW • VND • ELEISIO 
 
 BIST • VND • DVEST ■ WAS • DIE ■ BEtOHLEN 
 
 1ST 1691. 
 
 Translation 
 
 The Lord's blessing maketh rich, with- 
 out all care, if thou at the same time in 
 thine occupation true and industrious art, 
 and doest v/hat thou ordered art. 
 
 The former part of this inscription, it 
 may be observed, is taken from the book 
 of Proverbs: — "The blessing of the Lord 
 it maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow 
 with it." Prov. x. 22. 
 
 The gtone upon which the other in- 
 scription is, or rather was, is wasting 
 away, and all the letters will soon be 
 gone. I give below as many as I could 
 discover. 
 
 DE ICHLAND B 
 
 VATTERLAND • SOB CL 1ST 
 
 DIE • STADT • GEN 
 
 HEER • BEHVT ' V R V3 
 
 VND ■ EIHGA 
 
 This inscription seems merely to have 
 declared the country and town or place 
 whence the settlers came, concluding with 
 a prayer for the protection of the 
 Almighty. The space left blank is not 
 sufficient to have contained what Mr. 
 Surtees asserts. 
 
 w. c. w. 
 
 Newcastle upon Tyne. 
 September 24, 1831. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 November 10. — Day breaks . . 5 30 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 27 
 
 — sets ... 4 33 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 30 
 
 NoDPtnfi^v 11. 
 
 Festival of St. Martin. 
 For the customary celebration of this 
 day see the Smery-Day Book. 
 
 Martilmasse Date. 
 It is the day of Martilmasse, 
 Cuppes of ale should freelie passe ; 
 What though Wynter has begunue 
 To push downe the summer sunhe. 
 To our fire we can betake, 
 And enjoye the crackliog brake^ 
 Never heeding Winter's face 
 On the day of Martilmasse. 
 We can tell what we have scene 
 While the hedge sweetc-biere was greene 
 Who did hide i' th' barley-mow, 
 Waitinge for her love I trowej^ . 
 Whose apron longer stringes didlackc. 
 As the envious girles do clackc : 
 Such like things do come to passe 
 E'er the day of Marrilmaaso, 
 
1343 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBRR 12 
 
 1344 
 
 Some do the citie now frequent, 
 AVlieTe costly shows and merriment 
 Do weare the vaporish ev^niuge 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 daye let passe. 
 The merrie day of Martilmasse, 
 Nel had left her wool at home. 
 The Flanderkin hath stayed his loom, 
 No beame doth swinge, nor wheel go round. 
 Upon Gurguntum's walled ground ; 
 Where now no anchorite doth dwell. 
 To rise and pray at Lenard's bell ; 
 Martyn hath kicked at Balaam's ass. 
 So merrie be old 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 tV merry night of Martilmasse. 
 Martilmasse shall come againe. 
 Spite of wind and snow and nine ; 
 But many a strange thing must be don9. 
 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. 
 
 St. Martinis little summer is a term for 
 the fine days vrhich sometimes intervene 
 about the beginning of November, upon 
 the usual boisterous vreather of tlie month. 
 Shakspeare alludes to it in the first part 
 of king Henry IV.: "Farewell thou latter 
 spring ! farewell All-hallown summer!" 
 and more expressively in the first part of 
 king Henry VI. 
 
 This night the siege assuredly I'll raise 
 Expect St. Martin's summer, halcyon days. 
 
 fa, m. 
 
 November 11. — Daybreaks. . 5 31 
 
 Sun rises . , 7 29 
 
 — sets . . 4 31 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 29 
 
 Nobemfifv 12. 
 
 November 12, 1817, died lady Evelyn, 
 of whom there is this curious anecdote. 
 In 1814, Mr. William Upcott being on a 
 visit at lady Evelyn's, at Wotton, in Sur- 
 rey, and sitting after dinner with lady 
 Evelyn and her friend, Mrs. Molineux, 
 his attention was attracted to a tippet of 
 feathers, on which lady Evelyn was em- 
 ployed : " We have all of us our hobbies, 
 I perceive, my lady," said Mr. Upcott. 
 «' Very true, " rejoined her ladyship; 
 
 " and pray what may yours be V " Mine, 
 madam, from a very early age, began by 
 collecting provincial copper tokens, and 
 latterly the hand-writing (or autographs) 
 of men who have distinguished themselves 
 in every walk of life." " Hand-writings 1" 
 exclaimed lady E,, with surprise — " what 
 do you mean by hand-writings? surely 
 you don't mean old letters ?" at the same 
 time opening the drawer of her work- 
 table, and taking out a small parcel of 
 papers, some of which had been just used 
 by Mrs. Molineux, as patterns for aiticles 
 of dress. The sight of this packet, though 
 of no literary importance, yet containing 
 letters written by eminent characters (more 
 particularly one from the celebrated Sarah, 
 duchess of Marlborough), afforded the 
 greatest pleasure to Mr. Upcott, who ex- 
 pressed exceeding delight in looking them 
 over. «0h!" added lady Evelyn, "if 
 you care for papers like these, you shall 
 have plenty ; for Sylva Evelyn (the fami- 
 liar appellation applied to John Evelyn by 
 his descendants), and those who succeeded 
 him, preserved all their letters." Then, 
 ringing for her confidential attendant, 
 "■ Here," said her ladyship, " Mr. Upcott 
 tells me he is fond of collecting old letters : 
 — take the key of the ebony cabinet, in 
 the billiard room — procure a basket, and 
 bring down some of the bundles." Mr. 
 Upcott accompanied the attendant, and, 
 haying brought a quantity of these leUers 
 into the dining-room, passed an agreeable 
 evening in examining the contents of each 
 packet; with the assurance from lady 
 Evelyn, that he was welcome to lay aside 
 any that he might desire for his own col- 
 lection. On the following evening the 
 ebony cabinet was visited a second time, 
 when Evelyn's " Kalendarium," as he 
 had entitled it, or " Diary," a small quarto 
 volume, very closely written with his own 
 hand, presented itself. This interesting 
 family document had been lent by lady 
 Evelyn, from time to time, to her parti- 
 cular friends, yet she did not consider its 
 contents of sufficient importance for pub- 
 lication; and except for this accident it 
 might have beeji cut up for dress-patterns, 
 or lighting fires. Evelyn's " Diary" was 
 obtained from the old lady, for publica- 
 tion, and has since appeared in successive 
 quarto and octavo editions. 
 
 h. ro. 
 
 November 12. — Day breaks . 5 33 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 30 
 
 — sets . . 4 30 
 
 Twilight- ends . 6 27 
 
t345 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBEK 12. 
 
 1346 
 
 
 ETON COLLEGE. 
 
 When boys at Eton, once a year^ 
 In military pomp appear ; 
 He who just trembled at the rod, 
 Treads it a hero, talks a god, 
 And in an instant can create 
 A dozen officers of state. 
 His little legion all assail. 
 Arrest ^vithout release or.bail: 
 Each passing traveller must halt, 
 Must pay the tax, and eat the Salt. 
 You don't love Salt, you say ; and storm- 
 Look o' these staves,' sir-^and conform. 
 
 The preceding accounts of the Montem 
 at Eton will be remembered ; the kind- 
 ness of Mr. W. A. Delamotte, jun., who 
 is an artist at Sandhurst, Bagshot, affords 
 the opportunity of presenting the present 
 engraving as introductory to the following 
 communication respecting the laureate of 
 the Montem. 
 
 [lo Mr., Hone.] 
 
 It was with considerable disappointment 
 thati found, on perusing Pilgarlio's account 
 of Eton Montem, no mention made of an 
 
 43. 
 
 individual who, for a considerable number 
 of years, has identified himself with the 
 triennial exhibition ; I allude to Herbert 
 Stockhore, the Montem poet laureate. 
 
 Many readers of the " Montem OJe'' 
 will, I doubt rot, feel inclined to ask 
 « Who is Herbert Stockhore V With 
 an earnest desire to do justice to an indi- 
 vidual of something more than local noto- 
 riety, I have put together the following 
 account of my own recollection's of him, 
 which will I trust serve in lieu of a better 
 answer. . 
 
 2 X 
 
1347 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK — NOVEMBEU 13. 
 
 1348 
 
 Herbert Stockhore, poet laureate of 
 Eton Montem, was originally a soldier, 
 who upon receiving his discharge settled 
 at Windsor ; at what time he so settled 
 I have not at present the means of ascer- 
 taining, my knowledge of him extending 
 only to about sixteen years ago, af which 
 time he was exercising the functions of 
 his poetical office. How he gained that 
 post I am also at a loss to determine, 
 farther than supposing his being led, 
 having no regular occupation, to seek a 
 subsistence from among the scholars, af- . 
 fording them amusement by his eccentric 
 habits, and his extemporaneous display 
 as a rhymester — talents which in due 
 course of time pointed him out as a fit 
 person to be chosen Montem bard. Be 
 It as it may, Herbert has taken care of the 
 main chance, and has with increase of 
 years increased his store of worldly goods 
 very considerably ; holding at the present 
 time some portion of land besides several 
 cottages. The house he resides in is the 
 work of his own hands, and for original- 
 ity of construction may vie with the rhyme 
 of his odes. His dress usually consisted 
 of an old military coat and trowsers; his 
 brows were encircled — not with bays, but 
 with a red nightcap, and he wore a beard 
 the stubbornness of which but rarely of- 
 fended the edge of a razor. 
 
 Our bard must now be very far ad- 
 vanced in years, and as he pathetically 
 states his " glass must be almost run." I 
 was witness to three montems preceding 
 the last, and each time his decline was 
 strongly visible. At the first he was en- 
 abled to walk about aided only by a staff; 
 at ray second visit he was assisted by a 
 little boy, an allusion to whom was made 
 in the last lines of the ode of that time, 
 as follows, — 
 
 I am the poet's younger sou. 
 
 And if you should enquire my Christian name 
 
 You'll find 'tis Shakspeare Pindar. 
 
 The third and last I beheld him he was 
 seated in his donkey vehicle, " old, blind, 
 and three parts rheumatic, in appearance 
 tottering on the very verge of the grave ; 
 but since then another montem has passed 
 and Herbert still in attendance. His 
 dress at these times, imitatory of his 
 "worshipful masters," was composed of 
 divers colored pieces Of silk, cotton, rib- 
 bons, &c, forming altogether a most gro- 
 tesque appearance, and tending to excite 
 the wonderment of those who were 
 strangers to hii office and celebrity. 
 
 Nature, it is said, must form the true 
 poet ; in so far as Herbert Stockhore is 
 concerned his obligations are all on her 
 side, being entirely free from the shackles 
 of education, and unable either to read 
 or write. Of the manufacture of ihe 
 ode I would fain say a few words. The 
 poet, having ascertained the names and 
 order of the procession, proceeds after his 
 own fashion to jumble a certain quantity 
 of lines together, according to his own 
 rude ideas of harmony ; the person to 
 whom they are dictated, as far as his ca- 
 pacity extends, making the best of them. 
 After this mess has been concocted, it is 
 shown to some one or another of the Eton 
 scholars, who undertakes its revision and 
 improvement. It is then committed to 
 the hands of the printer, who also adds 
 his mite towards its embellishment ; this 
 is its last stage, and on Whit-Tuesday it is 
 ready for the " author" to vend to his 
 montem friends at a price which secures 
 him ample remuneration for time and 
 labour. This explanation will I hope ac- 
 count for the inferiority of the production, 
 and likewise tend to remove any stain 
 thrown on the well-earned literary fame 
 of the Etonians. 
 
 If it be matter of doubt whether there 
 will be another montem, it is more doubt- 
 ful whether there will be found a successor 
 to the present holder of the laureateship, 
 when he shall be consigned to the grave ; 
 but to all montetn visitors, and Etonians 
 in particular, the remembrance of Herbert 
 Stockhore will never fail to intermingle 
 with recollections of joyous days " so few 
 and far between." 
 
 J N. 
 
 13th of November, 1810, died James 
 Allen, the celebrated Northumbrian piper. 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 " Jamie Allen," as he was familiarly 
 called, was not only the best piper of his 
 time, but in other respects a very singular 
 character. It is impossible, in such a 
 sketch as the present, to convey even an 
 outline of the remarkable circumstances 
 of his romantic life, in proof of which 
 it need only be stated that a biographical 
 account of him, containing nearly 700 
 pages, has been published in an octavo 
 
1349 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 13. 
 
 1850 
 
 volume.* It is from that account that the 
 following abstract is taken. But it must 
 be observed that the biographer has in 
 many places evidently called in the aid 
 of his imagination to embellish his narra- 
 tive, although there is no reason to sus- 
 pect its general authenticity. 
 
 Jamie was born about 1719, at a 
 gypsey camp in Rothbury forest, North um- 
 bedanij^ He was the youngest of six 
 sons of William Allan, a noted piper, 
 whose ostensible way of living, and that 
 of his family, was by travelling the coun- 
 try as coopers, tinkers, muggers, spoon- 
 casters, &c. They were dreaded by the 
 neighbouring farmers ; and Jamie, who 
 early distinguished himself by his depre- 
 datory exploits, was seat out to make 
 heather besoms. He was naturally idle, 
 and worked little. He is described as 
 having been " hardy as the highland 
 heather," and " swift as the mountain 
 roe." When he was about fourteen years 
 of agt he became emulous to excel upon 
 the bagpipes, to which his ambition was 
 awakened by seeing the consideration 
 paid to his father, in consequence of his 
 superior performance on that instrument. 
 It was a great favorite (the small pipe 
 particularly) among the Northumbrians, 
 and Jamie, by great application, became 
 a proficient. He remained attached to 
 the Faa-gang, or gypsey tribe, until the 
 rebelliou of 1745, when he and his brother 
 Robert were seized under a warrant to 
 impress vagrants into his majesty's ser- 
 vice. By intoxicating the constables who 
 had them in charge, the two brothers 
 speedily effected their escape; and soon 
 afterwards Jamie attracted the notice of 
 the countess (afterwards duchess) of Nor- 
 thumberland, to whom Thomson dedicated 
 his " Spring-" Jamie was ranked among 
 her band of musicians, but marred his 
 good fortune by want of prudence. A 
 young woman, one of tlie countess's at- 
 tendants, formed an attachment of which 
 he was the object ; and, this becoming 
 known to the countess, she ge^erously 
 offered to settle the young couple in life, 
 provided the affection of the young woman 
 was returned. This, unhappily, was not 
 the case, and Jamie, partly to put an end 
 to the connexion, and partly for the laud- 
 able jpiirpose of receiving some instruc- 
 tion from an old schoolmaster, obtained 
 
 * Bj Mackenzie and Dent, Newcastle-upoQ* 
 Tjne. 
 
 leave of absence from the castle, in order 
 to visit Rothbury. From that moment 
 his subsequent misfortunes may be dated. 
 
 On Jamie's arrival at Rothbury he 
 found the schoolmaster ill with a fever, 
 and his hopes of instruction were frustra- 
 ted. About the same time he was en- 
 trapped into marriage by a woman of ill- 
 character. On this occasion, though he 
 had lost much favor with his patroness, 
 she made him a present of a pair of hand- 
 some small pipes, mounted with silver, 
 upon which he ever afterwards set a high 
 value. Upon the countess becoming 
 duchess of NortJjumberland she appointed 
 him her own piper, and he wore on his 
 right arm, in silver, the Saracen's crescent, 
 the proud trophy won by the Periy, in 
 the crusades, and adopted by the family 
 as a cognizance. 
 
 Allan from that time, except during 
 short intervals, was driven, by the mis- 
 conduct of his wife, into reckless excesses, 
 and having committed robbery, he was 
 peremptorily dismissed from the castle. 
 Still his deserved fame for excellent exe- 
 cution upon the bagpipes would have 
 enabled him to live with comfort and 
 decency, but the extravagance of his 
 habits outran his gains. Being in dis- 
 tress, he enlisted with a recruiting party, 
 and deserted immediately after he had 
 received the bounty-money. This was 
 the commencement of a practice which he 
 afterwards carried on to an unparalleled 
 extent, but not without great danger, and 
 hair-breadth escapes; He gradually lost 
 all principle, and, to enumerate his vari- 
 ous villanies, the contrivances he formed 
 to elude detection, and the hardships he 
 endured, would far exceed reasonable 
 limits. It is sufficient to say that, having 
 long led a vagabond life, he at length fell 
 into the hands of one of the recruiting 
 parties whom he had defrauded, and in 
 order to avoid punishment for other, and 
 greater oflences, he accepted an offer to 
 enter into the East India Company's ser- 
 vice. ' 
 
 Allan had not been long in India before 
 he deserted, as usual ; and, astonisliing 
 to say, without understanding a:ny lan- 
 guage but his own, and without moneyj 
 he travelled, oii fi30t, through unknown 
 countries, from Calcutta to Benares, thence 
 to Delhi, then to Labor, crossed the snowy 
 mountains, and arrived at Samarcand ; he 
 then passed through Tartary, ovier the 
 deserts of Egypt, and reached St. Peters^ 
 burgh iu safety, without any friend Jbat 
 2X3- 
 
1351 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-NOVEMBEU 13 
 
 1352 
 
 bis pipes, from which he had continued 
 in all his perils never to part. After 
 many vicissitudes, in almost all parts of 
 Europe, he returned to England, and 
 hastened to his native place, his affection 
 for which was so strong as to form one of 
 the most prominent traits in his character. 
 
 Allan's life now became merely a repe- 
 tition of what it had been before he left 
 England, but he grew more daring, and 
 his experietrce abroad had qualified him 
 to commit depredations with greater suc- 
 cess at home. He renewed his connexion 
 for some time with the Faorgang ; but 
 his favorite means of raising money was 
 his old scheme of enlisting with some 
 recruiting party, pocketing the bounty, 
 and then decamping. He at length be- 
 came so notorious in the north of England, 
 that he was constantly in jeopardy, and 
 he removed into the south, where he fell 
 in with a gang of gypsies, the chief of 
 whom, and a young female who passed 
 • for his daughter, seemed to have been of 
 superior origin tolhat which their condi- 
 tion bespoke. Allan and this young 
 woman became attached to each other, 
 and were legally married. She appears 
 to have made him a good wife, while she 
 lived, and to have partly reformed him by 
 her influence ; but she shortly died. Al- 
 lan used to acknowledge that she was the 
 Only woman who could ever restrain him 
 from his vicious propensities. He gave 
 a strong proof of his affection for her by 
 honestly paying the surgeon's bill, and 
 the expenses of her funeral. 
 
 Allan again went abroad, and served 
 both in the French and English armies, 
 and deserted from both. While in the 
 French service he attempted to pass the 
 lines, and go over to the English. He 
 was detected and sentenced to be shot. 
 He protested his innocence, and prayed 
 as a favor that he might be marched to the 
 fatdl spot with his hands unbound. On 
 his way to death he seized his ever faithful 
 pipes, which he had preserved through 
 all his difficulties, and struck up a tune 
 ■which he had composed the night before, 
 and which is still known in Northumber- 
 land as " Jamie Allan's tune." On a 
 circumstance so surprising being made 
 known to the duke de Broglio, the French 
 commander, and there being some doubt 
 of his guilt, he was pardoned. 
 
 He once more escaped a military life, 
 and returned to England, where he 
 promptly renewed his old system of 
 profligacy ; and being pursued by a re- 
 
 cruiting party, and overtaken as he was 
 leaping over a stile, a drummer struck 
 him with his sword upon the wrist. Ja- 
 mie viewed the wound for some seconds 
 with considerable emotion, and then look- 
 ing at the drummer, exclaimed with min- 
 strel pride, " Ye hae spoiled the best 
 pipe-hand m England." The hurt was 
 well healed, and he found that it did not 
 affect his playing. 
 
 We muBt now hasten to the close of 
 Allan's career : as he advanced in yiars 
 he increased in turpitude ; and for a long 
 time he stole horses with impunity. 
 Whenever he wanted one he was accus- 
 tomed to proceed to the south of Scotland, 
 but success in crime rendered him careless 
 and daring. He could not resist the tempt- 
 ation of stealing one in Northumberland, 
 for which he was apprehended and tried. 
 Notwithstanding he made a very ingenious 
 defence, in which he attributed the pro- 
 secution to a strong and unjust prejudice 
 which had been artfully excited against 
 " a poor, harmless old man," he was con- 
 victed, and received sentence of death. 
 His old age excited commiseration, and 
 several gentl.emen, who admired his mu- 
 sical abilities, united in endeavours to 
 save the aged minstrel from an ignomi- 
 nious death, and finally succeeded in pro;- 
 curing him a free pardon. 
 
 Allan's evil habits were now rooted. 
 His recovered liberty was not of long 
 duration. He stole a mare from Mr. 
 Matthew Robinson, of Gateshead, vias 
 pursued and caught, and sent to Barham 
 gaol, and at the following assizes again 
 received sentence of death, which waj> 
 afterwards commuted to perpetual im- 
 prisonment. After remaining in confine- 
 ment nearly seven years, he became very 
 infirm and asthmatic, and was humanely 
 removed into the house of correction, for 
 better air. Here he lived only about nine 
 months. A free pardon which had been 
 obtained for him, and had been casually 
 delayed, arrived at Durham a few days 
 after his criminal life had terminated. 
 Some years before Allan's death he made 
 a will, by which he appointed two gen- 
 tlemen of North Shields his executors; 
 and bequeathed to them his pipes, with a 
 valuable selection of music, and several 
 curiosities; on condition that they interred 
 liis remains in Rothbury churchyard. 
 They did not hear of his death until after 
 his burial in Elvet churchyard, Durham, 
 or his request would have been complied 
 with. His snuff-box, a curious old relic, 
 
1353 
 
 THE YEAU Book.— NOVEMBER 14. 
 
 1354 
 
 is now in the possession of Mr. D. Hilton, 
 ofPenton-street, Pentonville. An elegy of 
 poetical merit was written to his memory, 
 but it is too long to be added. The fol- 
 lowing is the commencement ; — 
 
 " All ye whom music's charms inspire^ 
 Who skilfnl minstrels do admire, 
 ye whom hag-pipe lilts do fire, 
 Tween Wear and Tweed, 
 Como strike with me the mournful lyre. 
 
 For Allan's dead ! " • • ~ 
 
 reutonville, 
 
 Sept. 6, 1827. 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 November 13. — ^Day breaks . 
 
 5 34 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 7 32 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 4 28 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 6 26 
 
 Ko))etnder 14. 
 
 Devonshire. 
 
 fting tn the Mire — Countess Weir. 
 To the Editor.] 
 
 Hmiton, Oct. 3, 1831. 
 
 1 am one of those (1 trust and hope a 
 goodly number) who retaining a lively 
 recoUeftion of die amusement and infor- 
 mation conveyed by the Every- Day Book 
 and The Table Book, hailed with pleasure 
 ihe announcement of the Year-Book, and 
 having this evening received from the 
 Bookseller Part X. of the New Work, I 
 "wheel'd the Soia round to the Fire," and 
 sat down to devour its contents. — Having 
 well enjoyed and somewhat digested the 
 repast, I looked to the memoranda address- 
 ed " To Correspondents," and observing 
 that you receive Contributions of narratives 
 or anecdotes concerning persons, places, 
 usages, &c. I bethought myself whether 
 there was any thing connected with this 
 place worth recording; but I could only 
 hit on the following narrative, which I 
 lately met with whilst furnishing some 
 notes to a gentleman who is publishing a 
 topographical account of our county. 
 
 We have on the extreme boundary of 
 our Parish a small spot of land called 
 "Ring in the Mire,'" which is only re- 
 markable for its name and for being one 
 of the dirtiest spot's in the vicinity. The 
 reason of its being so called I subjoin, pre- 
 mising that my authority is a former 
 rector of Honiton. The Reverend Ezra 
 Cleaveland, B. D., some time fellow of 
 Exeter College Oxford, who in his " His- 
 tory of the Family of Courtenay," to which 
 family this manor formerly belonged, 
 states as follows : 
 
 " There is a tradition that Isabella De 
 Fortibus, Couutess of Devon, determined a 
 controversy that was between the parishes 
 of Uoniton, Farway, Sidbury, and Git- 
 tishain about their bounds; for she being a 
 very great ladye, and ladye of the manor 
 of Honiton, if not of one of the other, did 
 ride up to the plain whereabout the parishes 
 did meet, and ilj a little miry place threw 
 in a ring which she took off her 6nger, 
 and said that that place should be the 
 bounds of the four parishes, and so it is to 
 this day, and called • Ring in the Mire.' 
 
 " This Isabella was the daughter of Bald- 
 win de Reparus or Rivers, seventh earl of 
 Devon, and the Wife of William earl of 
 Albemarle. She appears to have been a 
 lady who liked to maiiitain her own will ; 
 for it is recorded that up to the year 1284 
 the river Exe was navigable for boats 
 and vessels from the port of Ex mouth to 
 Exe Bridge, in the city of Exeter, but 
 that Isabella having some dispute with 
 the mayor and commonalty of Exeter, 
 with a view to annoy them erected a weir 
 across the river about four miles below 
 Exeter near Topsham, ' whereby' [as is 
 found by an inqui.<iition taken at Exeter 
 the day of the decollation of Saint John 
 the Baptist, in the year 1290, before Mal- 
 colme Harleigh, general escheator of the 
 king on this side of the Trent] 'the fish- 
 ing and taking of ;almon and other fish is 
 destroyed on this side the weir; and that 
 whereas in times past boats and vessels 
 were wont to pass to and from the said 
 river Exe, even to the bridge of the said 
 city, loaden with wines and merchandizes, 
 to the great commoditye of the whole 
 conntrye, now no boat or vessell can so 
 pass up by reason of the said weare.' 
 
 "This weir, though a great nuisance was 
 never abated by the citizens of Exeter. 
 They contented themselves with digging 
 a canal from Topsham to Exeter, for the 
 passage of their boats and vessels, and 
 this canal they havd lately widened and 
 improved to meet the increasing demands 
 of the trade of their city ; but the weir 
 remains to this day, a monument of the 
 tyranny of the countess and of the sub- 
 set viency or timidity of the citizens of 
 Exeter, and is still known as ' Countess 
 Weir.'" A. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 November 14. — Day breaks . . 5 35 
 Sun rises . . 7 33 
 — sets . . 4 27 
 Twilight ends . 6 35 
 
1355 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— NOVEMBER 15, 16. 
 
 1356 
 
 Nob^mtft: 15. 
 
 On the 15th of November, 1725, died 
 in duel, Charles lord Mohun. He had 
 been led by low and degrading compan- 
 ionship into disgraceful and vicious ex-' 
 cesses. In a midnight brawl, in company 
 with lord Warwick and another gentleman 
 three persons fought them and a captain 
 Coote was killed. The lords Warwick 
 and Mohun were tried by their peers. 
 Warwick was convicted of manslaughter, 
 but Mohun was acquitted. Some years 
 afterwards Mr. Montfort, " one of the best 
 and most amiable actors that ever trod 
 the stage," was murdered as he was 
 walking in the street by captain Hill, 
 aided and abetted by lord Mohun, who 
 was again tried for this second murder. 
 He was again acquitted, but, apparently 
 under a deep sense of his enormity, he 
 expressed " his confusion for the scandal 
 he brought upon his degree, as a peer, by 
 his behaviour, in very handsome terms ; 
 and promised to behave himself so, for 
 the future, as not to give farther scandal." 
 He afterwards applied himself to pursuits 
 becoming his station, and in the House 
 of Peers often distinguished himself by 
 judicious speeches. The earl of Mac- 
 clesfield, whose niece he had married, 
 took lord Mohun with him to Hanover, 
 when he went to announce the settlement 
 of the crown upon the house of Bruns- 
 wick. Toland says "that none of the 
 company was more generally acceptable, 
 that none lived with greater sobriety, nor 
 delivered himself on all occasions with 
 better judgment than lord Mohun." Lord 
 Macclesfield died without issue and left 
 him a considerable estate, which he man- 
 aged with great prudence. Lord Mac- 
 clesfield's brother dying a bachelor t!;ere 
 was a dispute about the property between 
 the duke of Hamilton who had married 
 Elizabeth sole heir of the earls of Mac- 
 clesfield, and lord Mohun, who had like- 
 wise his claims upon the estate. They 
 were both present at an examination be- 
 fore a master in chancery respecting the 
 matter in litigation, when the duke of 
 Hamilton, reflecting upon the veracity of 
 Mr. Whitworth, who had been steward to 
 the Macclesfield family, said, " he had 
 neither truth nor justice in him." Lord 
 Mohun instantly replied, that " he had as 
 much as his Grace." They parted in 
 anger, and on the following day lieutenant 
 gen. Maccartney conveyed a challenge to 
 Mohun from the duke, who had been ap-, 
 
 pointed ambassador to France, whither 
 he was to have proceeded immediately. 
 On the 15th of November, 1712, they met 
 and fought in Hyde Park, and each killed 
 the other. Lord Mohun was buried in 
 Westminster Abbey. There arose after- 
 wards a loud public outcry against Mac- 
 cartney, who, fearing the issue of a trial 
 at such a juncture, withdrew to Germany, 
 till a change in the government, and a 
 calm in public opinion, offered him the 
 prospect of an impartial adjudication. In 
 1716 he returned, and was tried before 
 lord chief justice Parker ; when he was 
 acquitted of the murder, and discharged 
 of the manslaughter by burning with a 
 cold iron to prevent an appeal of mur- 
 der.* 
 
 h. m. 
 
 November IS. — Day breaks . . 5 36 
 Sun rises . . 7 35 
 — sets . . 5 27 
 Twilight ends . 6 24 
 
 Jfottttnbev 16. 
 
 At St. Catherine Cree church, Leadenhall 
 street, London, provision is made under 
 the will of sir John Gager, who was lord 
 mayor in the year 1646, for a Sermon to 
 be annually preached on the 16tU of No- 
 vember in commemoration of his happy 
 deliverance from a lion, which he met in 
 a desert as he was travelling in the Turk- 
 ish dominions, and which suffered him 
 to pass unmolested. — The minister is to 
 have 20s. for the sermon, the clerk is. 6d., 
 and the sexton. Is. The sum of £8. 16s. 
 6d. is likewise to be distributed among 
 the necessitous inhabitants, pursuant tu 
 the will of sir John.-}- 
 
 Banff Superstitions. 
 
 A few years ago in the county of BanT, 
 North Britain, witches were (and perhaps 
 still are) supposed, as of old, to ride on 
 broomsticks through the air, and the 12th 
 of May regarded to be one of their festivals. 
 It is alleged that, on the morning of that 
 day, they are frequently seen dancing on 
 the surface of the water of Avon, brushing 
 the dews off the lawn, and milking cows 
 in their fold. Any uncommon sickness 
 
 • Noble. 
 t Bewick's Hist, of Quadrupeds* 
 
1357 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 16. 
 
 1358 
 
 IS generally attributed to their demoniacal 
 practices. They are reputed to make 
 fields barren or fertile, raise or still whirl- 
 winds, and give or take away milk at 
 pleasure. The force of their incantations 
 is dreaded as not to be resisted, and ex- 
 tends even to the moon in the midst of 
 her aerial career. " " It is the good fortune, 
 however, of this country to be provided 
 with an anti-conjurer, that defeats both 
 them and their sable. patron in their com- 
 bined efforts. His fame is widely diffused, 
 and wherever he goes, crescit eundo. If 
 the spouse is jealous of her husband, the 
 anti-conjurer is consulted to restore the 
 affections of his bewitched heart. If a 
 near connexion lies confined to the bed 
 of sickness, it is in vain to expect relief 
 without the balsamick medicine of the 
 anti-conjurer. If a person happens to be 
 deprived of his senses, the deranged cells 
 of the brains must be adjusted by the 
 magic charms of the anti-conjurer. If a 
 farmer loses his cattle, the houses must be 
 purified with water sprinkled by him. In 
 searching for the latent mischief, this 
 gentleman never fails to find little parcels 
 of heterogeneous ingredients lurking in 
 the walls, consisting of the legs of mice 
 and the wings of bats ; all the work of the 
 witches. Few things seem too arduous 
 for his abilities; and though, like Para- 
 celsus, he has not as yet boasted of having 
 discovered the philosopher's stone, yet, 
 by the power of his occult science, he 
 still attracts a little of their gold from the 
 pockets where it lodges ; and in this way 
 makes a shift to acquire subsistence for 
 (limself and femi'y,"* 
 
 The Ehglisb, 1298. 
 
 The English are serious, like the Ger- 
 luans, — lovers of show, — liking to be 
 followed, wherever they go, by whole 
 troops of servants, who wear their masters' 
 arms in silver, fastened to their left arms, 
 and are not undeservedly ridiculed for 
 wearing tails hanging down their backs. 
 They excel in dancing and music ; for they 
 are active and lively, though of a thicker 
 make than the French ; they cut their 
 hair close -on the middle of the head, 
 letting it grow on either side; they are 
 good sailors, and better pirates; cunning, 
 treichefous, and thievish. Above three 
 hundred are said to be hanged, annually, 
 
 in London; beheading, with them, is 
 less infamous than hanging. They give 
 the wall as the place of honour. Hawking 
 is the general sport of the gentry. They 
 are more polite in eating than the French ; 
 devouring less bread but more meat, which 
 they roast in perfection. They put a good 
 deal of sugar in their drink. 'Their beds 
 are covered with tapestry, even those of 
 farmers. They are often molested with 
 the scurvy, said to have first crept into 
 England with the Norman Conquest. 
 Their houses are commonly of two stories, 
 except in London, where they are of three 
 or four, though but seldom of four ; they 
 are built of wood; those of the richer 
 where the owner has money, covered with 
 lead. They are powerful in the field, 
 successful against their enemies, impa- 
 tient of any thing like slavery, vastly fond 
 of great noises that fill the ear, such as 
 the firing of a cannon, drums, and the 
 ringing of bells; so that it is common 
 for a number of them that have got a 
 glass in their heads to go up into some 
 belfry, and ring the bells for hours toge- 
 ther, for the sake of exercise. If they see 
 a foreigner very well made, or particularly 
 handsome, they will say, it is a pity he is 
 not an Englishman.* 
 
 A Commendation of the Night- Time. 
 
 Though many much mislike the long 
 
 and wearie winter aightes, 
 I cannot but commend them stilly 
 
 For diverse dere delightes. 
 The night wee see bringes silver sleepe ; 
 
 Slecpe conrseth care away ; 
 Cares being cast firom out the mind^ 
 
 there harbours happy joye; 
 Where joye abounds there helthe hath place, 
 
 where happy helthe doth bide. 
 There life lasts long : this proofe shewes 
 plaine. 
 
 And may not bee denyde ; 
 So, this the happy nighte procures, 
 
 • * • * ■ 
 
 Therefore I must, before the daye, 
 Freferre and praise it still. 
 
 Forreit of Fane!/, 1579. 
 
 h. m, 
 
 November 16^— Day breaks . . 5 38 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 37 
 
 — sets . . 4 43 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 22 
 
 • Brand, from Statistical Account of Scot- 
 land, xii. 465. 
 
 Hentzner, 1598. 
 
1359 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 16. 
 
 1360 
 
 HEAD OF THE WESl' BOW LAWNMAEKET, EDINBURGH. 
 
 By the kindness of A. G. Jun. the 
 Year Book is favored with a drawing by 
 Mr. W. Geikie, for the preceding en- 
 graving. The houses it represents may 
 not be allowed to remain long, and this 
 may be an apology for introducing it with 
 the following particulars from the " Tra- 
 ditions of Edinburgh." 
 
 Mr. Chambers says "The West Bow 
 is a place abounding more in antiquities 
 than any other part of the city, and what 
 could not fail to render these antiquities 
 interesting to the public is the circum- 
 stance that they are all accompanied in 
 their preservation by anecdotes of a curi- 
 ous and amusing description. It is one 
 of the oldest streets in Edinburgh, and 
 has been less subjected to modern reno- 
 
 vations than almost any other place, so 
 that its form and appearance are much the 
 same as they were two hundred years ago; 
 and the traditions with which it abounds 
 have suffered proportionably little from 
 the changes of time. From its peculiarly 
 venerable aspect — the dark profundities 
 and culs de sac that descend from behind 
 it — its numerous decayed houses with 
 aerial dove-cot-looking gables projecting 
 over the street, seemingly not more secure 
 of their hold than the last leaf of autumn 
 shivering on the aspen's topmost bough 
 it seems a place full of grandmothers' 
 tales and quite calculated to maintain a 
 wizard or a ghost in its community. Both" 
 of these it has accordingly done within the 
 last century and a half, in the person of 
 
t361 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.—NOVEMBER 16. 
 
 1363 
 
 the notorious Weir, who first served them 
 in the one capacity, and lastly in the other. 
 At the head of this street there happen- 
 ed, in the year t596, a memorable combat 
 between James Johnston of Westerhall, 
 and a gentleman of the house of Somer- 
 ville, which is related in the " Memorial 
 of the Somervills," vol. II. p. 7. 
 
 At the period referred to, combats of 
 this description and even tulzies (so to 
 speak), that is to say, skirmishes between 
 the retainers of various noblemen, were of 
 no infrequent occurrence upon the streets 
 of Edinburgh. On the 24th of November, 
 1567, according to Birrel, the Laird of 
 Airth and the Laird of Wemyss met upon 
 the High Street, and together with their 
 followers fought a bloody battle, " many 
 being hurte on both sides by shote of 
 pistoU." Three days afterwards there 
 was a strict proclamation, forbidding 
 " the wearing of guns or pistoUs, or aney 
 sick like fyerwork ingyne, under ye paine 
 of death, the Kings guards and shouldours 
 only excepted." This circu mstance seems 
 to be referred to in " The Abbot, " vol. 
 II. p, 95 — where the Regent Murray, in 
 allusion to Lord Seyton's rencounter with 
 the Leslies, in which Roland Gtsme had 
 borne a distinguished part, says, — " These 
 broils and feuds would shame the capital 
 of the Great Turk, let alone that of a 
 Christian and reformed state. But, if I 
 live, this gear shall be amended ; and men 
 shall say," &c. This may suffice for the 
 fame of the West Bow in tulzie-annals. 
 
 In early times, it appears, the inhabit- 
 ants of the West Bow were peculiarly 
 zealous in the cause of the Covenant. 
 Pitcaime, Pennycuik, and other poets of 
 the Cavalier or Jacobit'e faction, distin- 
 guish the matrons of this street by satiri- 
 cal epithets, such as the " Bow head 
 Saints," the " godly plants of the Bow 
 head," &c. We also see that many of 
 the polemical pamphlets and sermons of 
 the Presbyterian divines, since this period, 
 have been published in the Bow. 
 
 By far the most curious publications of 
 the latter sort, were those of one William 
 Mitchell, a crazed white iron smith, who 
 lived in a cellar at the Bow head, and oc- 
 casionally preached. Mr. Mitchell was 
 altogether a strange mixture of fanaticism, 
 madness, and humour. He published 
 many pamphlets and single sheets, very 
 full of amusing nonsense and generally 
 adorned with a wooden cut of the Mitchell 
 arms. Some of his poetry was re-printed 
 about twenty years ago by Messrs Oliver 
 
 and Boyd, in small parcels, and sold at 
 one penny. His verses possess humour 
 equal to that of some of (his contempo- 
 rary) Allan Ramsay's, but are debased by 
 coarseness. 
 
 ■ The " Tinklarian Doctor" (for such was 
 his popular appellation,) appears to have 
 been fully acquainted with an ingenious 
 expedient, which we observe practised by 
 many publishers of juvenile toy books in 
 our own day, — namely, that of self-recom- 
 mendation. As in certain sage little his- 
 tories of Tommy and Harry, King Pepin, 
 &c. we are sure to find that " the good 
 boy who loved his lessons" always bought 
 his books from " kind, good, old Mr. J. 
 Newberry, at the corner of St. Paul's 
 Church Yard, where the greatest assort- 
 ment of nice books for good boys and 
 girls is always to be had," — so in the 
 works of Mr. Mitchell we find some sly 
 encomium upon the Tinklarian Doctor 
 constantly peeping forth ; with, moreover, 
 a plentiful advertisement or puff of his 
 professional excellence as a white-smith. 
 " I have," he says in one of his pieces, 
 "a good penny-worth of pewter spoons, 
 fine like silver, none such made in Edin- 
 burgh, and silken pocks for wiggs, and 
 French white pearl beads, — all to be sold 
 for little or nothing.". In his works he 
 does not scruple to make the personages 
 whom he introduces speak of himself as 
 a much wiser man than the archbishop of 
 Canterbury, all the clei^ymen of his 
 native country, and even the magistrates 
 of Edinburgh 1 One of his last productions 
 was a pamphlet on the murder of Captain 
 Porteous, which he concludes by saying, 
 in the true spirit of a Cameronian martyr, 
 " If the king and Clergy gar hang me for 
 writing this, I'm content, because it is long 
 since any man was hanged for religion." 
 
 The abode of this singular enthusiast 
 has been pointed out to us, as that low 
 cellar on the west side of the Bow-head 
 (No. 19) now occupied, in 1825, by Mrs. 
 Philip, a dealer in small wares ; here he 
 is said to have delivered his lectures to 
 the elfeves of the Bow-head University. 
 
 The profession of which the Tinklarian 
 Doctor subscribed himself a member has 
 long been predominant in the West Bow. 
 It reckoned dagger-makers among its 
 worthy denizens in the reign of James 
 VI. ; but this trade has long been happily 
 extinct every where in Scotland ; though 
 their less formidable brethren the white- 
 smiths, copper-smiths, and pewterers, have 
 continued down to our own day to keep 
 
1»63 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 17. 
 
 isei 
 
 almost unrivalled possession of the Bow. 
 Till within these few years there was 
 scarcely a shop in this crooked street oc- 
 cupied by other tradesmen ; and we can 
 easily imagine that the noise of so many 
 hammermen, pent up in a narrow, thorough- 
 fare, would be extremely annoying. So 
 remarkable was it for this, that country 
 people always used to ask any acquaint- 
 ance lately returned from town, if he 
 went to hear " the tinklers o' the Bow," 
 — reckoning them to form oi.e of the 
 most remarkable curiosities of Auld 
 Reekie, Yet, however disagreeable their 
 clattering might seem to the natives of the 
 peaceful plain, we are credibly informed 
 that the people who lived in the West Bow 
 became perfectly habituated to the noise, 
 and felt no inconvenience whatever from 
 its ceaseless operation upon their ears. 
 Nay, they rather experienced inconveni- 
 ence from its cessation, and only felt an- 
 noyed when any period of rest arrived 
 and stopped it. It was for this reason 
 that they became remarkable, above all 
 the rest of the people in Edinburgh, for 
 rising early on Sunday mornings which in 
 certain contiguous parts of the town is 
 rather a singular virtue. The truth was, 
 that the people could not rest in their beds 
 after five o'clock, for want of the custom- 
 ary noise which commenced at that hour 
 o'n work-days. It is also affirmed that 
 when the natives of the West Bow re- 
 moved to another part of the town, be- 
 yond the reach of these dulcet sounds, 
 which so long had given music to their 
 morning dreams, sleep was entirely out 
 of the question for some weeks, till they 
 got habituated to the quiescence of their 
 new neighbourhood. An old gentleman 
 having occasion to lodge for a short time 
 in the West Bow, he found the incessant 
 clanking extremely disagreeable, and at 
 last entered into a paction with some of 
 the-workmen in his immediate neighbour- 
 hood, who promised to let him have an- 
 other hour of quiet sleep in the mornings, 
 for the consideration of some such matter 
 as half-a-crown to drink on Saturday 
 Might. The next day happening (out of 
 his knowledge) to be some species of 
 Saint Monday^' his annoyers did not work 
 at all ; but, such was the force of a habit 
 acquired even in three or four days, that 
 our friend awoke precisely at the moment 
 when the hammers used to commence; 
 and he was glad to get his bargain can- 
 celled as soon as possible, for fear of ano- 
 ther morning's want of disturbance. — Such 
 
 a dispersion has taken place in this mo- 
 dern Babel, that in 1825 there were only 
 two tin-plate-workers in the whole,Bow. 
 
 The inhabitants and shop-keepers of 
 the West Bow, though in general humble, 
 are much more respectable than any other 
 community of peopl-j of the same rank 
 throughout the town. Here very few 
 bankruptcies ever occur. Most of the 
 shop-keepers are of old standing, and have 
 reached, in the course of many years ai>- 
 plication to a small business, if not to 
 wealth, at least to easy circumstances. 
 The greater part of them possess their own 
 shops, and live in their own houses ; and, 
 in such a community, that may be con- 
 sidered wealth. 
 
 KoijemSer 17. 
 
 17th November, 1644, Mr. Evelyn, being 
 at Rome, visited the villa Borghesi, pnd 
 saw its rich sculpture, paintings, and 
 other works of art. Amongst the rarities 
 was one that fairly rivalled Friar Bacon's 
 head. "A satyr which so artificially ex- 
 pressed a human voice, with the motion 
 of the eyes and head, that it might 
 easily affright one who was not prepared 
 for that most extravagant sight." 
 
 At the same time "they showed us also 
 a chair that catches fast any one who sits 
 down in it, so as not to be able to stir 
 out, by certain springs concealed in the 
 arms and back thereof, which at sitting 
 down, surprise a man on the sudden, 
 locking him in by the arms and thighs, 
 after a treacherous guise." 
 
 Almanacs. 
 [For the Year Bool.J 
 
 To the article on this subject, at p. 117, 
 may be added a notable instance of false 
 prediction, from Baker's Chronicle, sub 
 anno 1524. 
 
 " In this yeere, through bookes of pro- 
 gnostications, foreshowing much hurt to 
 come by waters and floods, many persons 
 withdrew themselves to high grounds, for 
 feare of drowning ; specially one Bolton, 
 Prior of St. Bartholomew's in Smithfield, 
 builded him an house upon Harrow on 
 the Hill, and thither went and made pro- 
 vision for two moneths. These great 
 waters should have fallen in February; 
 but, no such thing happening, the astro- 
 nomers excused themselves by saying, 
 that, in the computation, they had mis- 
 counted in their number an hundred 
 yeeres.'* 
 
1365 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 17. 
 
 13W^ 
 
 These were the halcyon days of the gen- 
 try who, like Caleb Quotem's worthy 
 father, " had a happy knack of cooking up 
 an almanack." By the lower and middle 
 classes their dicta were received as gos- 
 pel ; and, even amongst the more enlight- 
 ened, there were few individuals altogether 
 exempt from their influence. In 1582, 
 Richard Harvey, of Cambridge, brother 
 to the more celebxated Gabriel, fright^ed 
 half the people in England out of their 
 senses, by foreboding most fearful results 
 from a conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter, 
 which was to take place in the year fol- 
 lowing. The conjunction, however, took 
 place, and nothing resulted there from, 
 which brought the false prophet into dis- 
 repute, and afforded Nash and other mis- 
 chievous wits a happy subject for ridicule ; 
 but, though people's (aith in the individual 
 was shaken, their reverence for the science 
 remained unchanged. 
 
 Bishop Hall in the 2nd Book of his 
 " Virgidemiarum, 1597," Sat. 7, has a pas- 
 s^e on the subject, which, whilstit shows 
 his own freedom from this childish credulity 
 bears witness also to the extent of its in- 
 fluence at that period : — 
 " Thou damned mock-'art, and thou brainsick 
 
 tale 
 Of old Astrology, where didst thou veil 
 Thy cursed head thus long, that so it mist 
 The black bronds of some sharper satirist ? 
 Some doting gossip 'mongst the Chaldce 
 
 wives 
 Did to the credulous world thee first derive j 
 And Superstition nurs'd thee ever since. 
 And published, in profounder art's pretence — 
 That now, who pares his nails, or libs his 
 
 swine. 
 But he must first take counsel of the Sign ? 
 So that the vulgar's count for fair or foul. 
 For living or for dead, for sick or whole. 
 His fear or hope, for plenty or for lack. 
 Hangs all upon his New- Year's Almanack. 
 
 ' Fain would I~ know (might it our artist 
 please) 
 Why can his tell-troth Ephemerides 
 Teach him the weather's state so long beforn, 
 And not foretel him nor his fatal horn. 
 Nor his deatb*s-day, nor no such sad event, 
 Which he mought wisely labour to prevent 1" 
 These were not only happy days for al- 
 manac writers, but also for almanac 
 buyers, the price being but a penny, as I 
 gadier from various passages in old writers. 
 It will be.Euflicient to cite a couple. In 
 Jonson's " Every Man Out of his Humour," 
 where these fooleries are delightfully ri- 
 diculed, Soidido exclaims, after consulting 
 his Almanac— 
 
 — " Never, never, 
 "Laid I a penny better out than this, 
 '* To purchase this dear book," 
 
 And Antonio, in Fletcher's " Chances," re. 
 marks. 
 
 — " All physicians, 
 And penny almanack's, allow the opening 
 Of veins this month." 
 
 The pointing out proper days for Heeding, 
 taking physic,-and other odd matters, was 
 an important part of the task formerly as- 
 sumed by almanac compilers, as appears 
 by the last quotation and that from Hall's 
 Satires. Neither is the belief quite extinct 
 even now, there being many well-meaning 
 persons who would not willingly adopt a 
 remedy for a disease, without previously 
 consulting that mystical column in the 
 Almanac devoted to " knees, hams, legs, . 
 ancles, feet, toes,'' &c ; it being consider- 
 ed lucky, or unlucky, I forget which, to 
 take medicine on the day when the par- 
 ticular part of the body affected is under 
 the influence of the Sign. To facilitate 
 the researches of the curious into these 
 matters, Almanacs were formerly deco- 
 rated with the figure of a man, and the 
 several portions of his frame marked by 
 the Sign which especially concerns them. 
 I cannot say I recollect this desirable il- 
 lustration "in my time," but I believe it 
 has not been altogether discontinued with- 
 in the memory of many persons somewhat 
 more experienced. Mr. Forby, in his 
 East Anglian Vocabulary, * gives the fol- 
 lowing anecdote, in point. 
 
 "About the close of the last century, 
 a medical practitioner of great practice, in 
 Suffolk, sent an opening medicine to a 
 patient, and desired him to take it immer. 
 diately. On the following day he called 
 at his house, and inquired how it had 
 operated. The patient (a substantial far- 
 mer) said he had not taken it ; and, upon 
 the doctor's remonstrating against this dis- 
 obedience, the sick man gravely answered, 
 that he had looked into his Almanac^ 
 and, seeing the sign lay in ' Bowels,' he 
 thought that, and the physio together, 
 would be too much for him." 
 
 Our old dramatists abound with allu- 
 sions to this " pictured shape." Not to 
 multiply quotations unnecessarily, I shall 
 notice but two. In Fletcher's " Chance;)," 
 Antario, having been wounded, says of 
 the surgeon, 
 
 • ii. 403. 
 
iser 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— NOVEMBER It. 
 
 1368 
 
 " When I go to bed. 
 He rolU mo up in lints, with lables at 'em. 
 That I am just the Man i' the Almanack." 
 
 And the Epilogue to Lee's " Gloriana," 
 1676, describing the severity of the wea- 
 ther when that Tragedy was produced, 
 has this passage, 
 
 " The ladies too, neglecting every grace, 
 Mobb'd up in night-clothes came, with face to 
 
 face J 
 The towre upon the forehead all tum'd back. 
 And stuck with pins, like the Man i' th' Al- 
 manack." 
 
 The days of astrological pTediction 
 seem, however, to be nearly gone by ; and 
 even the compilation of Francis Moore, 
 Physician, which the Address put forth by 
 the Stationers' Company in 1830, avers to 
 have " been for nearly two centuries the 
 most popular of all the Almanacs pub- 
 -ished in England," is rapidly declining, 
 I fear, from that " high and palmy station." 
 To hasten its downfall, the " Stationers," 
 in the Address just quoted, speaking of 
 this and Partridge's, make the following 
 admission, which I commend more for its 
 candour than its prudence. 
 
 "JVoZe. These two Almanacs are the only 
 ones published by the Stationers' Com- 
 pany which contain astrological predic- 
 tions. These are still given from a per- 
 suasion that they delude nobody, and be- 
 cause many thousand readers are amused 
 by tracing the coincidences which often 
 occur between the prediction furnished by 
 the astrological rule and tlie actual event." 
 
 Superstition, however, has still her 
 votaries; for anew Almanac has made 
 its appearance, within these two or three 
 years, resting its claim to support solely 
 upon the ground of its astrological merits; 
 and, havmg made some lucky hits, has, I 
 understand, a large sale. I forget its pre- 
 cise title, and never had courage to ex- 
 amine its contents, being scared by the 
 raw-head and bloody-bones, with other 
 fearful objects, which the superbly color- 
 ed hieroglyphic presents to view. It is 
 observable that a penny pamphlet, con- 
 taining a pirated copy of this print, with 
 the addition of a wonderful story about 
 the apparition of a Man in the Sun, taken 
 from the newspapers of 1814, was found 
 in the pocket of the maniac who the other 
 day was apprehended in the house of 
 lords : it appeared to have shortly in- 
 fluenced his disordered imagination. 
 
 As respects the price of Almanacs, I 
 cannot trace with precision the periods of 
 their successive advance in cost to the 
 
 present time ; but from a series of Moore's, 
 commencing in 1781, and ending in 1829, 
 now It/ing before me, I find that in the 
 first mentioned year the price was only 
 nine-pence, of which two-pence was for 
 stamp-duty. In 1791 it was increased 
 to ten-pence; in 1795 to eleven-pence ; 
 in 1798 to sixteen-pence ; in 1802 to 
 seventeen-pence ; in 1805 to one shilling 
 and ten-pence; and in 1816 to two shil- 
 lings and three-pence ; at which it still con- 
 tinues, and which is too costly an article 
 for the poor man to possess, who would 
 consequently be quite without information 
 upon the " subjects both profitable and 
 curious" of which it treats, were it not 
 that certain public-spirited hawkers, not 
 having the fear of Stamp-Acts before their 
 eyes, do still contrive furtively to circulate 
 a sheet, wretchedly printed, on vile paper, 
 at the good old price of a penny. One of 
 these, under the title of " Paddy's Watch," 
 I have just added to my collection of 
 " rubbish ;" and should Mr. Hone desire 
 to possess one, he shall not wish in vain, 
 as once he did for a " horn-book." 
 
 I wish some one, skilled in this kind' of 
 lore, would inform the world when and 
 where the original Francis Moore, Physi- 
 cian, flourished. Many men of less 
 eminence have had their biographers ; and 
 why should not some kind soul attempt 
 to rescue poor Francis from " the gaping 
 gulf of blank oblivion," as poor Kirke 
 White styles it. To any one disposed to 
 enter upon the enquiry, I tender a morsel 
 of information, culled from the last page 
 of his Almanac for 1788, where is insert. 
 ed "A Rebuke to Thomas Wright, of 
 Eaton, near Melton Mowbray, in Lei- 
 cestershire," who it appears " had the 
 audacity to assert that he had been the 
 only compiler of Moore's Almanac for 
 nearly the fourth of a century, from papers 
 and instructions communicated to him by 
 Mr. Moore ; but," proceeds the Rebuke, 
 " this pretended astronomer never did cal- 
 culate the Eclipses, &c., for that work, nor 
 is he capable of doing them ; so that any 
 Almanac published under the name of 
 such an impostor must (to use his own 
 words) be false and counterfeit. For 
 Mr. Francis Moore, the original author of 
 this Almanac, died in London about the 
 year 1724 (upwards of 33 years before 
 this Wright mentions his communications 
 to have been made), after which it was 
 wrote and continued 'oy Mr. John Wing, 
 and afterwards by his son Tycho, both of 
 Pickworth in the county of Rutland. 
 
1369 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 17. 
 
 18T0 
 
 Mr. Tycho Wing died in 1750, after 
 which it was written and compiled by 
 Mr. William Harvey, of Knipton, near 
 Grantham, for Mr. Vincent Wing, who 
 continued and wrote it for him till about 
 the year 1762, after whose death Thomas 
 Wright was employed in compiling the 
 same. This, I believe, pretty nearly brings 
 the secret history of its editorship down 
 to the period when it was assumed by Mr. 
 Henry Andrews, as mentioned on page 
 117 of the Year Book. 
 
 All this contention sprang, I find, from 
 the circumstance of there being two Francis 
 Moores in the field, each affirming that he 
 alone was the veritable Simon Pure. One 
 of these was put forth by the Stationers' 
 Company, and the other by " T. Carnan, 
 St. Paul's Church-Yard ; " who," as he 
 states at the foot of his title-page for 1782, 
 " after an expensive suit in law and equity, 
 by the unanimous opinion of the Judges 
 of the Court of Common Pleas, dispos- 
 sessed the Stationers' Company of their 
 pretended exclusive privilege of printing 
 Almanacs, which they had usurped for 
 two centuries — a convincing proof that no 
 unjust monopoly will ever stand the 
 test of an English court of Justice. 
 
 Carnan, like Francis Moore at present, 
 was fond of mixing politics with his as- 
 trology ; and says many bitter things of 
 Lord North, Taxes, Sinecurists, &c., which 
 I pass without farther notice, as not being 
 exactly to the matter in hand. His com- 
 pilation appears to have been conducted 
 by Andrews of Royston, and was probably 
 bought up or driven from the field, by 
 the Stationers' Company, about 1788, as 
 I find no trace of it after that year. 
 
 Predictions as to the weather seem to 
 be getting as much out of repute as those 
 of another description ; and certainly, in 
 a climate like ours, few undertakings can 
 be more hazardous than that of inferring 
 from the weather of one year what that of 
 the next will be. Thus at p. 75 of the 
 Tear Book it is stated, with truth, that 
 the middle of January is generally the 
 coldest part of the year — a remark which 
 the experience of several past seasons en- 
 tirely justifies; yet that period in 1831 
 has been remarkably mild; great-coats 
 have been at discount, and sea-coal fires 
 regarded with indifference. 
 
 To some unlucky speculations upon 
 these points, into which the Almanac- 
 makers were led by trusting to the falla- 
 cious criterion of weather-wise experience, 
 is to be attributed the circumstance that 
 
 the compilers of " Rider's British Merlin' 
 have abandoned that part of their under- 
 taking, in despair. The months of July 
 and August 1828, it may be remembered 
 were extremely unseasonable; rain fell in- 
 cessantly, and so cold was the atmosphere, 
 that, during the last nights of July, tender 
 plants suffered from the effects of a slight 
 frost. ■ Yet during all this time, in con- 
 tradiction to barometers and cloudy skies, 
 the weather-columns in the British Merlin 
 exhibited the following pleasant but de- 
 lusive announcements. 
 " My. Fair and hot. Good weather for the 
 
 Hay. 
 "August. Fine harvest-weather." 
 
 This was rather unfortunate to be sure: 
 but no one' can be wise at all times, and 
 the false prophets, doubtless, hoped, by a 
 lucky hit in their next almanac, to efface 
 the impression made by their present 
 failure. That two summers of unpre- 
 cedented wet and cold should occur to- 
 gether vtas quite beyond the bounds of 
 probability ; and^upon the strength of this 
 reasoning, they ventured to predict that 
 the two months which were provokingly 
 rainy in 1828 would present the follow- 
 ing delightful appearance in 1829 : 
 
 "July. Fair and hot towards the end. 
 "August. Fine harvest weather. Fair and 
 hot. Excellent weather or the corn." 
 
 Well 1 the result was, that the summer 
 of 1829, throughout, proved to be about 
 the coldest and wettest ever known. The 
 rains commenced towards the end of 
 June, and fell almost incessantly till near 
 the end of October. This was too much ; 
 and the next Almanaf , I think, announced 
 that the column which had heretofore 
 been devoted to remarks on the weather 
 would in future be occupied "with matter 
 of greater utility and interest.'' 
 
 Ere I quit this sul>ject, let roe say a 
 word or two upon " Partridge's Almanac," 
 the character of which you have described 
 most justly. How this disgusting medley 
 of faith and absurdity should have found 
 purchasers, even amongst the most besotted 
 slaves of superstition, is utterly incompre- 
 hensible. To show its character by ex- 
 tracts is scarcely possible, for its grossness 
 renders it unquotable ; but I will venture 
 one brief specimen from the January col- 
 umn of 1825, for the sake of its closing 
 prediction, which shows that Robin was 
 much more gifted as a prophet than a poet ; 
 although he doubtless little imagined that 
 what he foretold would so speedily take 
 place. 
 
1371 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. -NOVEMBER 18. 
 
 1372 
 
 " Dick ! Dick ! — Coming, sir ! 
 
 Bring a stick! — ^What fori 
 
 Sir Robin's back. — Good lack t 
 
 What's the matter 1 — A great clatter. 
 
 What about 1 — Nothing, sir. 
 
 That's ajoke — A pig in a poke. 
 
 Poor Robin !— Poor Robin ! 
 
 About to die, in a pig-stie." 
 And this trash was put forth, by." the 
 Worshipful Company of Stationers," in 
 the year of our Lord, 1825 ! Truly, 'twas 
 time for the " Schoolmaster" to com- 
 mence his progress. 
 
 Staffordshire Moorlands. 
 
 J. B n. 
 
 November 17. — Day breaks . . 5 39 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 38 
 
 — sets . . 4 22 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 21 
 
 I8th of November, 1700, died Henry 
 Cooke, an artist of eminence. He was born 
 in England, and when young procured 
 money sufficient to enable him to risit 
 Italy, but he was so little known or es- 
 teemed as an artist at his return that he 
 resided in Knave's-acre, in partnership 
 with a house-painter. He was found in 
 this obscurity by Lutteiel, who introduced 
 him to sir Godfrey Copley ; and that gen- 
 tleman employed him in decorating a 
 seat he built in Yorkshire, for which 
 Cooke received £150, a considerable sum 
 to him at that time. Theodore Russel 
 engaged him in his painting-room for five 
 years ; during which period Cooke lived 
 a profligate life, and killed a man who 
 loved a woman to whom Cooke had formed 
 an attachment. He fled to Italy, and seven 
 years afterwards ventured to return home. 
 Time had effaced the recollection of his 
 crime, or he had contrived to procure pro- 
 tection, for he was unmolested, and 
 worked for king William on the cartoons 
 and other pictures in the royal collection. 
 He is said to have copied the cartoons. 
 His principal performances were an eques- 
 trian portrait of Charles II. at Chelsea 
 College, the choir of New college chapel, 
 Oxford, the stair-case at Eanelagh house, 
 the ceiling of the great room at the water 
 works at Islington, and the staircase at 
 lord Carlisle's house in Soho square, a 
 mansion subsequently well known by the 
 assemblies held there under the direction 
 of the celebrated Mrs. Corneleys. Cooke's 
 
 pencilwas cnieflyengaged on historical sub- 
 jects : he did not give himself a fair chatice 
 in portrait painting, and, through dis- 
 gust at "thecapricious behaviour of those 
 who sat to him, hS declined pursuing it. 
 His own portrait by himself, possessed by 
 lord Orford, though touched with spirit, 
 was dark and unnatural in the coloring. 
 
 The following lines were published by 
 Elsum, " on a Listenin" Fawn" of Cooke's 
 painting. 
 
 Two striplings of the wood, of humor gay. 
 Themselves diverting on the pipe do play ; 
 A third, more solid and of riper years, 
 Bows down his body and erects his ears. 
 With such attention that you'd think he hears. 
 See in the parts a difference of complexion. 
 But in the whole good union and connexion. 
 With many other beauties it is graced. 
 And of the antique has a noble taste : 
 All so contrived, and so exactly finished. 
 That nothing can he added or diminished.' 
 
 Cooke married the woman for whom he 
 incurred the guilt of murder.* 
 
 Marvellous Music. 
 Verstegan, in his " Restitution of De- 
 cayed intelligence,"t relates the following 
 strange story. Hulberstadt, in Germany, 
 was extremely infested with rats, which 
 a certain musician, called from his habit 
 the " Pyed Piper," agreed for a great 
 sum of money to destroy : whereupon he 
 tuned his pipes, and the rats immediately 
 followed him to the next river, where they 
 were all drowned. But, when the piper 
 demanded his pay, he was refused with 
 some scorn and contempt, upon which he 
 began another tune, and was followed by 
 all the children of the town to a neigh- 
 bouring hill called Hamelen, which open- 
 ed and swallowed them, up and aftervrards 
 closed again. One boy being lame came 
 after the rest, but, seeing what had hap- 
 pened, returned, and related this strange 
 circumstance. The story was believed, 
 for the parents never after heard of their 
 lost children. This incident is stated to 
 have happened on the 22nd of July in the 
 year 1376, and that since that time the 
 people of Halberstadt permit not any 
 drum, pipe, or other instrument to be 
 sounded in that street which leads to the 
 gate through which the children passed. 
 They also established a decree, that in all 
 writings of contract or bargain, after the 
 
 • Noble. 
 t London, 1634, p. 86. 
 
1373 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 18. 
 
 nu 
 
 date of our Saviour'a nativity, the date 
 also of the year of the children's going 
 forth should be added, in perpetual re- 
 membrance of this surprising event. 
 
 The NoKTHUMBERtAND BaGPIPE. 
 
 The wild, melancholy, warlike sound of 
 the ancient pibrocks, was certainly well 
 calculated to excite the astonishment of 
 the refined Italians and to rouse the en- 
 thusiasm of a North Briton in a foreign 
 land. The gentleman who favored the 
 Editor with the preceding communication 
 relative to the famous Northumbrian piper 
 says, " It is twenty years this autumn 
 since James Allan played to me at Eldon 
 Court Baron, a post pibrock on the regi- 
 mental Northumberland bagpipe, to the 
 astonishment of his hearers. The same 
 gentleman obligingly communicated the 
 following verses, which were written for 
 the Northumberland regimental bagpipes. 
 They refer to a supposed invasion of the 
 Scots having taken place in the absence 
 of the Palatine and to the gathering of 
 the Fenwicke, a Northumberland clan, 
 and their allies to repel the incursion. 
 
 A Border Gathering. 
 Pipe of KoTthumbria sound ! 
 
 War-pipe of Alnwicke ! 
 'Vake the wild hills around. 
 
 Summon the Fenwicke : 
 Percy at Paynim war, 
 
 Fcuwick stand foremost 
 Scots in array from far 
 
 Swell wide their war-host. 
 
 ^ow fierce from the border. 
 
 Wolf-like he rashes. 
 Drives southward the warder. 
 
 Gore-stream forth gushes : 
 Come spear-man. Come bowman. 
 
 Come bold-hearted Trewicke ; 
 Repel the proud foe-man. 
 
 Join lion-like Bewick :* 
 
 From Fenwicke and Senwicke, 
 
 Harlan and Hallington, 
 Sound bugle at Alnwicke, 
 
 Bag-pipe at Wallington : 
 On Elf-hills th' alarm wisp f 
 
 Smoulders in pale array ; 
 The babe that can scarce lisp 
 
 Points northward the bale-way. 
 
 * Names of families of clans, 
 t A wisp of ttraui or tow, mounted on the 
 top of a spear and set on fire when a raid took 
 place. ITpon this portentous ensign being 
 carried through the country, every one in- 
 stantly flew to arms. It was the Hot-lot.^ 
 
 Leave the plow, leave the mow. 
 
 Leave loom and smithie i 
 Come with your trusy yew, 
 
 . Strong arm and pithy ; 
 Leave the herd on the hill. 
 
 Lowing and Bying ; 
 Leave the ville, cott, and mill,-- 
 
 The dead and the dying 
 Come^ clad in your steel jack. 
 
 Your war-gears in order. 
 And down hew or drive back 
 
 The Scot o'er the border ; 
 And yield you to no man ; 
 
 Stand firm in the van-guard , 
 Brave death in each Foe-man, 
 
 Or die on the green sward. 
 
 Evil Speaking. 
 It is not good to speake evill of all 
 whom wee know bad ; it is worse to 
 judge evill of any who may prove good. 
 To speake ill, upon knowledge, shews a 
 want of charity ; to speake ill, upon sus- 
 picion, shews a want of honesty. I will 
 not speake so bad as I knowe of many ; 
 I will not speake worse than I knowe of 
 any. To knowe evill by others, and not 
 speake it, is sometimes discretion : to 
 speake evill by others, and not knowe it, 
 is always dishonesty. Hee may be evill 
 himselfe who speakes good of others upon 
 knowledge; but hee can never be good 
 himself, who speakes evill of others upon 
 suspicion. — A. Warwick. 
 
 Reading and Knowledge. 
 A man must not give himself to the 
 gathering; and keeping the opinions and 
 knowledges of another, to the end he may 
 afterwards make report of them, or use 
 them for shew or ostentation, or some base 
 and mercenary profit; but he must use 
 them so as that he may make them his 
 own. He must not onely lodg them in 
 his minde, but incorporate and transub- 
 stantiate them into himself. He must 
 not onely water hisminde with the dew 
 of knowledge, but he must make it essen- 
 tially better, wise, strong, good, couragi- 
 ous ; otherwise to what end serveth 
 study ? Wisdom is not onely to be got(en 
 by us, but to be enjoyed. He must not do 
 as it is the manner of those that make 
 garlands, who pick here and there whole 
 flowers, and so carry them away to make 
 nose-gayes, and afterwards presents ; heap 
 together out of that book, and out of this 
 booK, many good things, to make a fair 
 and a gpocfiy show to others ; but he must 
 do as bees use to do, who carry not 
 
1375 THE- YEAR BOOK— NOVEMBER 18. 18T6 
 
 away the flowers, but settle themselves the worcs by heart,.as many use to do, 
 upon them (like a hen that covereth her much lesse the place, the book, the 
 chickens) and draweth from them their chapter ; that is a sottish and vain super- 
 spirit, force, virtue, quintessence, and stition and Vanity, and makes him lose the 
 nourishing themselves, turn them into principal ; and having sucked and drawn 
 their own substance, and afterwards make the good, feed his mind therewith, inform 
 good and sweet honey, which is all their his judgment, instruct and direct his con- 
 own ; and it is no more either thyme or science and his opinion, rectify his will ; 
 sweet marjoram. So must a man gather and in a word, frame unto himself a work 
 from books the marrow and spirit (never wholly his own, that is to say, an honest 
 ejthralling himself so much as to retain man, was devised, resolute. — Charron. 
 
 Come to ue Love 1 
 [Original.] 
 Aza, star of my soul's dark night. 
 Let me worship thee by this pale moon's light ; 
 Come to me love, I have waited long, 
 Heard thy step from afar and thy sounding song ; 
 I have seen thee skim by the brink of the flood. 
 And thy presence hath spoke in my rushing blood ; 
 I have felt thy hand on my brow of care, *■ 
 Smoothing it and my tangled hair ; 
 And once, when the friends from my couch had stray'd, 
 My. cold cheek was on thy bosom laid. 
 Come to me love, the colds of night. 
 And the cold of the world, the heart's worst blight, 
 Are upon me here ; Come to me sweet. 
 Could I seek thee out I would wing my feet. 
 I have made thee a crown of the yellow gold, 
 And a purple raiment with full fold, 
 And a sceptre too, and thou shalt be, 
 Queen of my heart, of mine and me. 
 I will clothe thee in sun-beams, and thy fair neck 
 The pearls of the milky way shall deck ; 
 And I'll strew thy hair with the planets bright, ' 
 
 Thou angel of beauty, of love and light. 
 But thou com'st not my fond gifts to receive. 
 Winds brought me thy promise — thou wilt not deceive : 
 No ! thou'rt coming, the East with thy beauty grows red, 
 The queen of the night bows in homage her head ; 
 Oh come love, Oh fast love. Oh faster yet, sweet, 
 I fly, my heart's empress, thy coming to greet. S H. S. 
 
 To Charles Lamb, Esq. 
 [Original,] 
 Friend Lamb, thy choice was good, to love the -lore 
 Of our old by-gone bards, whose racy page, 
 Rich mellowing Time makes sweeter than before. 
 The blossom left — for the long garner'd store 
 
 Of fruitage, now right luscious in its age. 
 Although to fashion's taste austere, — what more 
 
 Can be expected from the popular rage 
 For tinsel gauds that are to gold preferred ? 
 
 Me much it grieves, as I did erst presage, 
 Vain fashion's foils had every heart deterred 
 
 From the warm, homely phrase of other day-s, 
 Until thy Woodvil's ancient voice I heard ; 
 
 And now right fain, yet fearitig, honest bard, 
 I paujc to greet thee with so poor a praise. John Clare. 
 
!3n 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-NOVEMBER 18. 
 
 1878 
 
 
 THE MILLER'S TOMB, ON HIGHDOWN HILL, NEAR TARRING, 
 
 SUSSEX. 
 
 In the spring of this year (1831) I found 
 myself, by the kind invitation of a friend, 
 at the little village of Salvington, in the 
 parish of Tarring, near Worthing in 
 Sussex. 
 
 Salvington is retired from the London 
 road to Worthing, at about three miles 
 distance from that place. It is a peaceful 
 hamlet in the midst of meadows and 
 farm?, and was the birth-place of Selden. 
 Passing some noble elm trees within the 
 dwarf wall of a comfortable farm-yard, I 
 was in a minute or two at " Selden's Cot- 
 tage." Its gabled side abuts on a cross 
 road. It is inhabited by a laboring family 
 and the dame welcomed me withinside. 
 Upon the oak-lintel is a Latin inscription 
 in two lines, over the door. I began to 
 examine it, when the good wife, pointing 
 to a paper pinned against the plastered 
 wall, said " It is all put down, down, 
 down there, sir: and there I read, as I 
 found by collation, " a true copy" with a 
 translation of the distich, in the hand- 
 writing of an able antiquary, then residing 
 
 44. 
 
 in the town whence this paper is dated, in 
 which town, where I now write, he un- 
 happily died a few weeks after I had 
 hastily transcribed his written memorial, 
 as ff llows : — 
 " Gkatds, honesti, mihi ; no' claodar, 
 
 inito, sedeqz ; 
 " Fob abeas ; no sd facta soldta TiBr. 
 
 (" Imitated.) 
 " Thou'rt welcome, honest friend ; walk in, 
 
 make free ; 
 " Thief get thee gone ; my doors are closed 
 
 to thee. 
 " This house was built Wm. Hamper, 
 
 1601. E. G. Deritend House, 
 
 Birmingham, 
 " So^io itovti June 9th, 1818." 
 
 Here was an autograph well known to 
 literary antiquariesj and antiquarian col- 
 lectors. It is well, methought, for these 
 
 poor cottagers that (a certain 
 
 person) has not been here; assuredly 
 were he here now, this would be collected 
 and engulfed among the mass at thq 
 London 1 tstitution. I learned that Mr. 
 2 Y 
 
1879 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER Iff. 
 
 TSao 
 
 Hamper had placed the paper there, and 
 some time afterwards had revisited the 
 cottage. There being nothing remarfeable 
 in the little edifice but the carved lintel, 
 I went on about three-quarters of a mile, 
 to Tarring church, and, calling for the 
 register, found it began 17th November, 
 1558, with the names of the Selden and 
 Hamper families occurring more fre- 
 quently than any other. Here, then, Mr. 
 Hamper's visits to Salvington were easily 
 accounted for. Tarring was the parish of 
 his ancestors i and the parish-clerk well 
 remembered his person. Mr. Hamper 
 afterwards wrote from Birmingham, for 
 ninety-one certificates relating to his fa- 
 mily ; " and," said the clerk, " he paid 
 for them like a gentleman, sir ; — ^lie sent 
 ' back a five pound note, and desired the 
 change might be kept." The register 
 contains an entry in April, 1560, of the 
 marriage of a John Selden ; this is suc- 
 ceeded by several entries of marriages, bap- 
 tisms, and burials of theSeldens, and by 
 the following : — " 1584, John^ the son of 
 John Selden, the minstrell, was baptized 
 the xxth of Decemberj" there is added, 
 " Died, 1654, aged 70;" this entry re- 
 cords the baptism and death of the great 
 Selden, whose father is sneeringly record- 
 ed by old Anthony Wood to have been 
 « a fiddler." 
 
 Tarring is a quiet village with several 
 remains to interest the antiquary. Adjacent 
 to its old church, which has a goodly 
 spire, is the present residence and fertile 
 farm of Mr. Hentey, whose sons adven- 
 tured upon an agricultural speculation to 
 the newly attempted settlement at Swan 
 River, and are about to be followed by 
 their father and the rest of the family. 
 The parish contains some of the most 
 productive land in the county,, but is 
 heavily tithgd and taxed. 
 
 Returning through Salvington by the 
 ',' Spotted Cow," a little new-painted 
 sign, which, I am told, Was executed by 
 the hand of the landlady herself, for her 
 new beer-shop ; the road leads on to 
 Darrington, a chapelry in the parish of 
 Tarring. In a meadow are part of the 
 ruined walls of the very ancient chapel, 
 beautifully overgrown with ivy : the age of 
 these remains is unknown. Tarring was 
 the living of St. Thomas a Becket. In 
 this parish, and Broadwater, which has 
 a very large and beautiful church, and in- 
 cludes the town of Worthing, there is much 
 to interest visitors who retire either for 
 ordinary recreation, or meditative remark. 
 
 From Darrington, accompanied by a 
 young ftiend from Salvington and his- 
 dog Dash, I walked over rich enclosed 
 pasture and arable ground, and through 
 woodlands, to see the "Miller's Tomb," 
 upon Highdown Hill. " Dash," a favorite 
 old spaniel, was rather a hindrance to us. 
 He had gained his flesh by good house- 
 keeping through the winter, and lost his 
 agility, and panted for breath like a citizen 
 who eats to live and lives to eat, till he- 
 can eat no more, and then goes to a feast 
 " not where he eats, but where he is 
 eaten." It was a delightfal sunny day, 
 and we climbed several stiles and gates 
 which Dash was too heavy to jump over, 
 and between the bars of which hewas too fat 
 to pass; and we heard of his being left 
 behind by his loud yelping and barking, 
 and sometimes went back to pull him 
 over. At length we mounted Highdown 
 Hill, and gained a fine prospect of the sea, 
 and a bracing breeze from it» fresh bosom. 
 
 Upon this hill stands the tomb of John 
 Oliver, a miller, whose windmill was for- 
 merly near. In his lifetime, he built the 
 tomb and erected a summer-house, in 
 which he sat before his tomb, and looked 
 around upon the inland prospect and the 
 eternal sea and the broad expanse of sky 
 and cloud above. His life was spent in the 
 business of his mill, and in comforting 
 his poorer neighbours, and in Qontem- 
 plating beyond his tomb. He knew -the 
 folly of the knowledge, and the vattity of 
 the wisdom of the world, and the wortd 
 thought him mad. He was a good man, 
 and looked death in the fece daily ; and 
 after many years he went to his rest. 
 
 This spot is represented in the engrav- 
 ing. On the slab cover of the tomb is 
 inscribed, "For the reception of John 
 Oliver, when deceased to the will of God ; 
 granted by William Westbrook Richard- 
 son, Esq., 1766." There are various pas- 
 sages of scripture on different parts of 
 the tomb, and on the south side is in- 
 scribed, "In memory of John Oliver, 
 miller, who departed this life the 22nd of 
 April 1793, aged 84 years." His remains 
 were interred beneath. 
 
 The miller left twenty pounds a year 
 for the keeping up of his tomb, and his 
 " summer retreat ;" but both are going to 
 decay, and no one cares to call upon the 
 trustee to give an account of his trust. 
 
 When seated in the summer-house, the 
 prospect to the right is, far as the eye can 
 see, " o'er waters of the dark blue sea." 
 On the left is Goring castle, and, beyond 
 
1381 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK— NOVEMBER 19, 20. 
 
 I ^m 
 
 that, a well known height called Chan- 
 kenburg Ring, crowned with fir-trees, 
 and formerly a Roman station. Nearer 
 the tomb is an eminence called Csesar's 
 hill, with traces of Roman intrenchments- 
 In the valley is the sweet little village of 
 Findon. From the tomb sea-wards may 
 be seen Brighton afar off, Worthing nearer, 
 and closer in the village of Salvington, 
 whither my friend and I, and Dash, lei- 
 surely returned by the pleasant way we 
 came. 
 
 h. m, 
 
 November 18. — Day breaks . 5 40 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 40 
 
 — sets . . 4 21 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 20 
 
 Nokiemfi^v 19. 
 
 November 19, 1761. A Worcester 
 paper of this date contains the following 
 paragraph : — " As his Majesty was going 
 out for an Airing Yesterday Morning, 
 two ancient Men from Cheshire, one 82, 
 the other 78 years of age, delivered a 
 Petition, offering to make a full discovery 
 of a Silver Mine, which they, after Twenty 
 Years search, have found outin Cheshire." 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 • Sir,- — As a subscriber to your Year 
 Bonk, T take the liberty of subjoining a 
 copy of a printed play bill, which I saw 
 at Paris in the course of last year. As it 
 amused me, so may it you ; for, as Dr. 
 Pangloss says, " the cacalology wants 
 mending." 
 
 [Copy.] 
 
 On Mokday Evening 
 
 will be given. 
 
 A Grand 
 Enteitainmet concert and Ball will be 
 given at Monsieur Lemer pres du Port 
 de Charenton, No. 5. To open with the 
 favourite comic song called the mill after 
 witch will be given a part of Macbeath a 
 song and Resitation after witch a favourite 
 Hornpipe a Gentlemen a performer in 
 provencal parts will appear in imetations 
 of the great English actars from Paris, 
 afterwards the prinsopol parts of -Douglas 
 or the noble .°hepsard after witch a grand 
 terifac combat then to be given a Resita- 
 
 tion comic duet, songs etc. the whole to 
 conclud with a Ball music is provided. 
 
 Enteornce at J past 6 to begin at J 
 past 7. 
 
 Tickets to be had of Mr. 
 Joseph Turner, James Riley, John 
 Liwois 
 or at che wouse. 
 Novemb. 19, 1829. 
 
 .1. m. 
 
 November 19. — Daybreaks . 5 41 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 41 
 
 — sets . . 4 19 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 19 
 
 Nobemfiev 20. 
 
 St. Edmund, King and Martyr. 
 
 Particulars of the anniversary of this 
 saint are in the Everi/-Day Book. 
 
 St Edmund the king enlarged the 
 monastery of Breadiseworth, in Suffolk, 
 and augmenting the revenues rendered 
 this religious house one of the finest and 
 richest in the kingdom. The gifts pre- 
 sented at his tomb were of immense 
 value ; and at the dissolution of the 
 monasteries tlie revenues amounted to 
 £1560 a year ; a very large sum indeed 
 in those days. Leland, who, saw the 
 town and monastery in their splendor, 
 gives a most magnificent description of 
 them. See Rapin's Hist, of England, 
 vol. I, p. 126, note (6) or Camden's 
 Britannia (Suffolk.) 
 
 Saxon Deities. — Days op the Week. 
 
 The Saxon idols worshipped in Eng- 
 land, whence the names of the days of the 
 week are derived, are — 
 
 1. The idol of the Sun, from which 
 Sunday is derived, among the Latins dki 
 Soils, was placed in a temple, and adored 
 and sacrificed to ; for they believed that 
 the sun did co-operate with this idol. He 
 was represented like a man half naked, 
 with his face like the sun, holding a burn- 
 ing wheel, with both hands on his breast,, 
 signifying his course round the world ; 
 and, by its fiery gleams, the light and 
 heat wherewith he warms and nourishes 
 all things. 
 
 2. The idol of the Moon, from which 
 cbmeth our Monday, dies Luna, anciently 
 Mooniay: this idol appears strangely 
 singular, being habited in a short coat 
 
 2 Y 2 
 
1383 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 21. 
 
 1384 
 
 like a man : her holding a moon signifies 
 ■what she is, but the reason of her short 
 coat and long-eared cap is lost in oblivion. 
 8. Tuisco, the most ancient and pecu- 
 liar god of the Germans, represented in 
 his garment -of a skin, according to their 
 ancient manner of clothing ; next to the 
 sun and moon, they paid their adoration 
 to this idol, and dedicated the next day 
 to him, from which our Tuesday is derived, 
 anciently Tuisday, called in Latin dies 
 Martis. But this idol is very unlike 
 Mars, whom Woden much nearer resem- 
 bles than he does Mercury. 
 
 4. Woden was a valiant prince among 
 the Saxons ; his image was prayed to for 
 victory over their enemies, which, if they 
 obtained, they usually sacrificed the pri- 
 soners taken in battle to him. Our Wed- 
 nesday is derived from him, anciently 
 
 Wodensday. The northern histories make 
 him the father of Thor, and Friga to be 
 his wife. 
 
 5. Thor was placed in a large hall, 
 sitting on a bed, canopied over, with a 
 crown of gold on his head, and twelve 
 stars over it, holding a sceptre in his right 
 hand ; to him was attributed the power 
 over both heaven and earth, and that, as 
 he was pleased or displeased, he could 
 send thunder, tempests, plagues, &c., or 
 fair seasonable weather, and cause fertility. 
 From him our Thursday derives its name, 
 anciently Thorsday ; among the Romans, 
 dies Jovis, as this idol may be substituted 
 for Jupiter. 
 
 6. Friga; this idol represented both 
 sexes, holding a drawn sword in the right 
 hand, and a bow in the left, denoting that 
 women as well as men should fight in 
 time of need : she was generally taken for 
 a goddess, and was reputed the giver of 
 peace and plenty, and causer of love and 
 amity. Her day of worship was called 
 by the Saxons, JV^edaeg, now Friday, 
 dies Veneris ; but the habit and weapons 
 of this figure have a resemblance of Diana 
 rather than Venus. 
 
 7. Seater, or Crodo, stood on the prickly 
 back of a perch : he was thin visaged, 
 and long haired, with a long beard, bare- 
 headed and barefooted, carrying a pail of 
 water in his right hand, wherein are fruit 
 and flowers, and holding up a wheel in 
 his left, and his coat tied with a long 
 girdle ; his standing on the sharp fins of 
 this fish signified to the Saxons, that by 
 worshipping him they should pass through 
 all dangers unhurt ; by his girdle flying 
 bothways was shown the Saxons' free- 
 
 dom ; and by the pail with fruit and 
 flowers was denoted that he would nourish 
 the earth. From him, or from the Romfn 
 deity, Saturn, comes Saturday.* 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 November 20. — Day breaks . . 
 
 5 42 
 
 Sun rises . . . 
 
 r 42 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 4 18 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 6 18 
 
 Tsaobemfitv 21. 
 
 Execution of a Jew. 
 
 21st November, 1821.— Among certains 
 malefactors excuted at Newgate was a 
 Jew, named Cabelia. He ascended the 
 platform attended by a reader of the 
 synagogue and a friend of his own per- 
 suasion, who sat up with him throughout 
 the night, according to the Jewish custom. 
 According to another usage with the 
 Hebrews condemned to death, he received 
 a fine linen cap from his friends. He 
 was attended by Jews upon the scaffold : 
 a hymn was read to him in the Hebrew 
 language, which is used only on such 
 occasions. The sheriff gave particular 
 directions that his body, not even his toes, 
 should be touched by the executioner or 
 his attendants, for which attention the 
 shertfT received the thanks of the crimi- 
 nal's friends. After the execution, Ca- 
 belia was taken down first by the Jews, 
 who had attended him, and immediately 
 carried away by them in a hearse. It is 
 the custom of the Jews to strip and wash 
 the corpse of the criminal, previous to 
 interment; after which the body is 
 wrapped in a linen sheet and deposited in 
 the coffin ; and every article of wearing 
 apparel in which he suffered is deposited 
 with him : the ropes and cords which 
 pinioned his arms are placed in the grave 
 under the Coffin. According to Hebrew 
 ceremony the interment must be com- 
 pleted before the going down of the sun. 
 
 About the same time there was an ex- 
 ecution in Aberdeen of an unhappy 
 culprit, who had his shroud put on before 
 his arms were pinioned, and in that state 
 he was taken out to the place of suffering. 
 
 Chinese Oath, 
 At the Thames public office, a few 
 years ago, two Cliinese sailors were ex- 
 
 * Gents. Mag. Nov. 1748. 
 
13BS 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 22, 23. 
 
 1386 
 
 amined on a charge •^t assaulting anoilier 
 Chinese sailor. The complainant was 
 examined according to the customs of his ' 
 country; a Chinese saucer being given 
 to him, and another to the interpreter, 
 they both advanced towards the window, 
 directed their eyes to heaven, and re- 
 peated in their own tongue the following 
 words : — « In the face of God I break 
 this saucer, if it comes together again 
 China man has told a lie, and expects 
 not to live five days ; if it remains asun- 
 der China man has told the truth, and 
 escapes the vengeance of the Almighty." 
 They then smashed the saucers in pieces 
 on the floor, and returned to their places 
 to be examined. 
 
 The Rev. H. S. Cotton possesses a 
 series of curious Chinese drawings, re- 
 presenting the torments inflicted in after 
 life upon evil-doers, according to the 
 Chinese belief. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 November ili—Vay breaks . . 5 43 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 44 
 
 — sets ... 4 16 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 17 
 
 Nob^mfifi: 22. 
 
 22d November, 1824, a dreadful storm 
 raged along the Western coast of Eng- 
 land. Huge waves battered down sea- 
 walls and iron-bound piers, and the 
 ocean engulfed numberless ships and 
 sailors, with an immense amount of pro- 
 perty. 
 
 Night. 
 
 hen I survey the bright 
 
 Celestial spliere : 
 So rich with jewels hung, that night 
 Soth like an Ethiop bride appear : 
 My soul her wing doth spread. 
 
 And heaven-ward flies. 
 The Almighty's mysteries to read 
 In the large volume of the skies. 
 
 For the bright firmament 
 Shoots forth no flame 
 So silent, but is eloquent 
 In speaking the Creator's name. 
 No unregarded star 
 Contracts its light 
 Into so small a character. 
 Removed far from our human sigh' , 
 
 But if we atedfaat look ' 
 We shall discern 
 In it, as in some holy book. 
 How man may heavenly knowledge lenn. 
 It tells the conqueror. 
 That far-stretched power. 
 Which his proud dangers traffic for. 
 Is but the triumph of an hour. 
 That from the farthest North, 
 Some nation may 
 Yet undiscovered issue forth. 
 And o'er his new got conquest away. 
 
 Some nation yet shut in 
 With hills of ice 
 May be let out to scourge his sin^ 
 Till they shall equal him in vice. 
 And then they likewise shall 
 Their ruin have ; 
 For as yourselves your empires fall. 
 And every kingdom hath a grave. 
 
 Thus those celestial fires. 
 Though seeming mute. 
 The fallacy of our desires 
 And all the pride of life confute. 
 For they have watched since first 
 The world had birth : 
 And found sin in itself accursed. 
 And nothing permanent on earth. 
 
 Habington. 
 
 ' h. m. 
 
 November 22. — Day breaks . . 5 44 
 
 Sun rises . , 7 45 
 
 , — sets . . 4 15 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 16 
 
 Bttbemtttv 23. 
 
 Festival of St. Clement. 
 
 Hatters have a tradition that while St. 
 Clement was fleeing from his persecutors 
 his feet became blistered, and to afford 
 him relief he was compelled to put wool 
 between his sandals and the soles of his 
 feet. On continuing his journey, the 
 wool, by the perspiration, motion, and 
 pressure of the feet, assumed a uniformly 
 compact substance, which has since been 
 denominated felt. When he afterwards 
 settled at Rome, it is said, he improved 
 the discovery ; and from this circum- 
 stance has been dated the origin of felting. 
 Hatters in' Ireland, and other Catholic 
 countries, still hold their festival on St. 
 .Clement's day. 
 
 Hats are first mentioned in History at 
 the time when Charles VII. made his 
 triumphant entry into Rouen, in the year 
 1449. In F. Daniel's account of that 
 splendid pageant, he says, that the prince 
 
138T 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 22. 
 
 1383 
 
 astonished the wholecity by appearing in 
 a hat lined with red silk, and surmounted 
 by a plume of feathers ; from this period 
 their general use is dated, and hencefor- 
 ward they gradually took place of the 
 chaperoons and hoods, that had been worn 
 before. In process of time^ from the 
 laity, the clergy also took this part of the 
 habit; but it' was looked upon as a great 
 abuse, and several regulations were pub- 
 lished, forbidding any priest or religious 
 person to appear^abroad in a hat without 
 coronets, and enjoining them to keep to 
 the use of chaperoons made uf black 
 cloth with decent coronets ; if they were 
 poor, they were at least to~have coronets 
 fastened to their hats, and this upon 
 penalty of suspension and excommunica- 
 tion. Indeed, the use of hats is said to 
 have been of a longer standint; among 
 the ecclesiastics of Brittany by two hun- 
 dred years, and especially among the 
 canons ; but these were no other than a 
 kind of cap, from which arose the square 
 caps worn in colleges and public schools. 
 Labinian observes, that a bishop of Dol 
 in the 12th <:entury, zealous for good 
 order, allowed the canons alone to wear 
 such hats, enjoining, that if any other 
 person came with them to church, divine 
 service should be immediately suspended. 
 
 It appears that :the art of manufactur- 
 ing' _/eif hats was known in Spain and 
 Holland, previous to its introduction into 
 England, in the beginning of the reign of 
 Henry VIII. ; and in the second year of 
 the reign of James I. the felt-makers of 
 London became a corporation, with a 
 grant of many privileges. 
 
 Felting is the union of animal hair 
 with wool in such a manner as to produce 
 a firm compact substance. 
 
 The manufacture of hats, as an article 
 of commerce, prevailed greatly in France, 
 and exports were made to England, 
 Spain, Italy, and Germany ; but England 
 has ultimately become the grand mart for 
 hats.* 
 
 Law Pleasantries. 
 
 I am a joker by birth, and look upon 
 every thing in the world as capable of 
 affording fun. The Law Reports, if 
 rightly understood, are, in fact, mere sup- 
 plements to Joe Miller. I do not care 
 wbat-lhey are, ancient or modern. Coke 
 or Vesey, Law or equity, you may extract 
 
 * The Hat-maker's Manual, 1829, 18mo. 
 
 fun from all. The rules as to the legal 
 measure of abuse which you may give a 
 'person may exemplify. To say to a man, 
 '^ You enchanted my bull," Sid, 424, to 
 say, " Thou art a witch," or that a person 
 "bewitched my husband to death," Cro. 
 Eliz. 312, is clearly actionable. Quaere, 
 Whether it be not also actionable to say 
 to or of a young lady, " You enchanted 
 me," or " She enchanted me," or, as the 
 case may be, " She enchanted my brother, 
 my dog," &c., or "She's a bewitching 
 creature, or to put the exact point, " She's 
 quite bewitched poor Tom." 
 
 On the other hand, you may say if you 
 please of another, " That he is a great 
 rogue, and deserves to be hanged as well 
 as G. who was hanged at Newgate;" 
 because this is a mere expression of opi- 
 nion ; and perhaps you might think that G. 
 did not deserve hanging. — T. Jones, 157. 
 So also you may say of any Mr. Smith, 
 that you know, " Mr. Smith struck his 
 cook on the head with a cleaver, and 
 cleaved his head; the one lay on the one 
 side, and the other on the other;" because 
 it is only to be inferred that thereby the 
 cook of Mr. Smith died, and this in the 
 reported case was not averred, Cro. Jac. 
 181. A fortiori, you may say, " Mr. 
 Smith threw his wife into the Thames, 
 and she never came up again ;" or " Mr. 
 Smith cut off Tom's head, and walked 
 with it to Worcester ;" because this is all 
 inference ; and his cook, wife, or Tom, as 
 the case may be, for all that the Court 
 knows, may be still alive. 
 
 Wills and testaments are a great source 
 of fun. There is a case in 6 Vesey, p. 
 194, Townley v. Bedwell, in which the 
 Lord Chancellor (Eldon) held that the 
 trust of real and personal estate by will, 
 for the purpose of establishing a Botanical 
 Garden, was void, for a rather singular 
 reason, as it appears in the report, viz. 
 because the testator expressed that " he 
 trusted it would be a public benefit 1" 
 The Solicitor-General (Sir William Grant) 
 and Mr. Romilly compared it to the case 
 of a gift of a piece of land for the pur- 
 pose of erecting monuments of the naval 
 victories of this country. The Lord Chan- 
 cellor said in that case the heir might pull 
 them down, and in this he might destroy 
 the garden; but his Lordship thought, 
 upon the expression of the testator, that 
 " he trusted it would be a public benefit," 
 he might venture to declare it void ! The 
 reason was, of course,, that it was within 
 the statutes of mortmain. 
 
1389 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 23. 
 
 1390 
 
 In the case of Isaac v. Gompertx, cited 
 7 Ves. 61, Lord Thurlow declared an 
 annuity given for the support aod main- 
 tenance of the Jevrisfa Synagogue in Mag- 
 pie Alley to be void, — a highly proper 
 decree. A similar fate was awarded to a 
 bequest for the dissemination of Baxter s 
 Call to the Unconverted, 7 Vess. 52. 
 
 Swinburne, part 4. sect. 6, art. 2, men- 
 tions a bequest of a legacy to a person, <m 
 condition of his drinking up alithe water 
 in the sea ; and it was held that, as this 
 condition " could not be performed," it 
 was void. The condition " to go to Rome 
 in a day," which Blackstone mentions in 
 his Commentaries as void because impos- 
 sible to be performed, may soon, perhaps, 
 cease to be so, and consequently become 
 good, if rail-roads are introduced «pon 
 the Continent. 
 
 In 1 Rol. Ab. 45, it appears that in the 
 country, when men pass cattle, it is 
 usual to say, « God bless them 1" other- 
 wise . they are taken for witches. This 
 reminds me of the salutation in Bohemia, 
 where, if you meet a peasant, you pass for 
 a heathen unless you say to him, "Blessed 
 be the Lord I" or, in case he salutes you 
 thus, unless you answer, " In eternity, 
 .'Vmen!" 
 
 Characteks of Four Nations — 
 
 Germany, England, France, and 
 Spain. 
 
 In ReligioH, 
 
 The German is sceptical ; the English- 
 man devout ; the Frenchman zealous ; 
 the Italian ceremonious ; the Spaniard a 
 bigot. 
 
 In Keeping Ms Word, 
 
 The German is faithful; the Englishman 
 safe; the Frenchman giddy; the Italian 
 shuffling ; the Spaniard a cheat. ' 
 
 In giving Advice, 
 
 The German is slow ; the Englishman 
 fearless ; the Frenchman precipitate ; the 
 Italian nice ; the Spaniard circumspect. 
 
 In External Appearance, 
 
 The German is large ; the Englishman 
 well made; the Frenchman well looking; 
 the Italian of middle size ; the Spaniard 
 awkward. 
 
 In Drest, 
 
 The German is shabby ; the Englishman 
 costly; the Frenchman fickle; the Italian 
 ragged ; the Spaniard decent. 
 
 In Manners, 
 
 The German is clownish ; the English- 
 man respectful ; the Frenchman easy ; 
 the Italian polite ; the Spaniard proud. 
 
 In keeping a Secret, 
 
 The German forgets what he has been 
 told; the Englishman conceals what he 
 should divulge, and divulges what he 
 should conceal; the Frenchman tells every 
 thing; the Italian is close; the Spaniard 
 mysterious. 
 
 In Vanity, 
 
 The German boasts little ; the English- 
 man despises all other nations; the 
 Frenchman flatters every body ; the Ita- 
 lian estimates cautiously ; the Spaniard is 
 indifferent. 
 
 In Eating and Drinking, 
 
 The German is ' a drunkard ; the En- 
 glishman liberally profuse ; the French- 
 man delicate ; the Italian moderate ; the 
 Spaniard penurious. 
 
 In (Wending and Doitig Good, 
 
 The German is inactive ; the English- 
 man does both without consideration; 
 the Italian is prompt in beneficence, but 
 vindictive ; the Spaniard indifferent. • 
 
 In peaking. 
 
 The German and French speak badly, 
 but write well; the Englishman speaks 
 and writes well; the Italian speaks well, 
 writes much and well; the Spaniard 
 speaks little, but writes well. 
 
 In Address, 
 
 The German looks like a blockhead; 
 the Englishman resembles neither a fool 
 nor a wise man ; the Frenchman is gay ; 
 the Italian is prudent, but looks like a 
 fool ; the Spaniard is quite the reverse. 
 
 In courage. 
 
 The German resembles a bear; the 
 Englishman a lion; the Frenchman an 
 eagle ; the Italian a fox ; and the Spaniard 
 an elephan 
 
 In the Sciences, 
 
 The German is a pedant ; the English- 
 man a philosopher; the Frenchman a 
 smatterer; the Italian a professor; and 
 the Spaniard a grave thinker. 
 
 Magnificence. 
 
 In Germany the Princes; in England 
 the ships ; in France the court ; in Italy 
 the churches; in Spain the armouries, 
 are magnificent. 
 
 Servants 
 
 Are companions in Germany; obedi- 
 ent in England ; masters in France ;' re- 
 spectful in Italy ; submissive in Spain. 
 
 
 b. m. 
 
 ^3. — Day breaks . . 
 
 5 45 
 
 ■ Sun rises . . 
 
 7 47 
 
 — sets. . . 
 
 4 13 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 6 1? 
 
1391 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 24. 
 
 1392 
 
 
 THE MILLER'S TOMB. 
 
 At the west end of the miller's tomD 
 on Ilighdown-Hill is a rude sculpture of 
 "Death running away from Time, who 
 pursues, and is holding him by the right 
 shoulder with his right hand: his left 
 holds a Time glass; Death a spear in his 
 left hand." This is the account m a 
 « Description of the celebrated Miller's 
 Tomb," printed at Worthing on a broad- 
 sheet "price three pence." I took a 
 sketch of the sculpture from the stone ; 
 it affords the engraving above, and is a 
 tolerably correct representation. Below 
 the stone is the following 
 
 Inscription. 
 
 Death, why so fast ? — pray stop your hand. 
 And let my glass run out its sand : — 
 As neither Death ncr Time vriW stay. 
 Let us implore the present day. 
 Why start you at the skeleton ? 
 ^Tis your picture which you shun ; 
 Alive, it did resemble Ihee, 
 And tiiou, when dead, like that shall be : — 
 But the' Death must have his will, 
 
 Yet old Time prolongs the date. 
 Till the measure we shall fill, 
 
 That's allotted us by Fate ; — 
 When that's done, then Time and Death 
 Both agree to take our breath ! 
 
 The miller caused figures of prophets 
 and other scripture characters, with verses 
 from scripture, to be painted without and 
 within-side his summer-shelter ; these are 
 nearly obscured by time and weather, and 
 the twenty pounds a year for maintaining 
 ihem go nobody can tell where. 
 
 j^obrml^er 24. 
 
 Second Sight. 
 Dr. Johnson, who, a few years before 
 his death, visited Scotland, the country 
 in which a belief in its existence still 
 prevails, has superseded every other 
 account of it by what he has left to us on 
 the subject. He says 
 
 " We should have had little claim to 
 the praise of curiosity, if we had; not 
 endeavoured with particular attention to 
 examine the question of the second sight. 
 Of an opinion received for centuries by 
 a whole nation, and supposed to be con- 
 iirmed through its whole descent by a 
 series of successive facts, it is desirable 
 that the truth should be established, or 
 the fallacy detected. , i 
 
 " The second sight is an impression 
 made either by the mind upon the eye, 
 or by the eye upon the mind, by which 
 things distant or future are perceived^ 
 and seen as if they were present. A man 
 on a journey, far from home, falls from 
 his horse ; another, who is perhaps at 
 work about the house, sees him bleeding 
 on the ground, commonly with a land- 
 scape of the place where the accident 
 befals him. Another seer, driving home 
 his cattle, or wandering in idleness, or 
 musing in the sunshine, is suddenly sur- 
 prised by the appearance of a bridal 
 ceremony, or funeral procession, and 
 counts the mourners or attendants, of 
 whom, if he knows them, he relates the 
 names, if he knows them not, he can de- 
 scribe the dresses. Things distant are seen 
 at the instant when they happen. Of things 
 future I know not that there is any rule 
 for determining the time between the 
 sight and the event. 
 
 "This receptive faculty, for power it 
 cannot be called, is neither voluntary nor 
 constant. The appearances have no de- 
 pendence upon choice: they cannot he 
 summoned, detained, or recalled. The 
 impression is sudden, and the effect 
 often painful. By the term second 
 sight seems to be meant a mode of seeing 
 superadded .to that which nature gene- 
 rally bestows. In the Earse it i.& called 
 Taisch ; which signifies likewise a spectre 
 or a vision. I know not, nor is it likely 
 that the Highlanders ever examined, 
 whether by Taisch, used for second sight, 
 they mean the power of seeing or the 
 , thing seen. 
 
 " I <}o not find it to be true, as it is 
 reported, that to the second sight nothing 
 
1393 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— NOVEMBER 24; 
 
 1394 
 
 is presented but phantoms of evil. Good 
 s ^ms to hi.ve the same proportion in 
 tio'^e visionpry scenes as it obtains in 
 real life. 
 
 " That they should often see death is 
 to be expected, because death is an event 
 frequent and important. But they see 
 likewise more pleasing incidents. A 
 gentleman told me, that when he had 
 once gone far from his own island, one of 
 his laboring servants predicted his re- 
 turn, and described the livery of his 
 attendant, which he had never worn at 
 home ; and which had been, without any 
 previous design, occasionally given him. 
 
 " It is the common talk of the Lowland 
 Scots, that the notion of second sight is 
 wearing away with other superstitions ; 
 and that its reality is no longer supposed 
 but by the grossest people. How far its 
 prevalence ever extended, or what ground 
 it has lost, I know not. The Highlanders 
 of all degrees, whether of rank or under- 
 standing, universally admit it, except the 
 ministers, who universally deny it, and 
 are suspected to deny it in consequence 
 of a system, against conviction. One of 
 them honestly told me that he came to 
 Sky with a resolution not to believe it. 
 
 " Strong reasons for incredulity will 
 readily occur. This feculty of seeing 
 things out of sight is local, and com- 
 monly useless. It is a breach of the 
 common order of things, without any 
 visible reason or perceptible benefit. It 
 is ascribed only to a people very little 
 enlightened ; and among them, for the 
 most part, to the mean and ignorant. 
 
 " To the confidence of these objections 
 it may be replied, that by presuming to 
 determine what is fit, and what is bene- 
 ficial, they presuppose more knowledge 
 of the universal system than man has 
 attained, and therefore depend upon 
 principles too complicated and extensive 
 for our comprehension ; and that there 
 can be no security in the consequence, 
 when the premises are not understood ; 
 that the second sight is only wonderful be- 
 cause it is rare, for, considered in itself, 
 it involves no more difiSculty than dreams, 
 or perhaps than the regular exercises of 
 the cogitative faculty; that a general 
 opinion of communicative impulses, or 
 visionary representations, has prevailed in 
 all ages and all nations ; that particular 
 instances have been given, with such 
 evidence as neither Bacon r.or Boyle has 
 been able to resist; that sudden impres- 
 sions, which the event has verified, have 
 
 been felt by more than owii or publish 
 them ; that the second sight of the He- 
 brides implies only the local frequency, of 
 a power which is nowhere totally un- 
 known ; and that, where we are unable 
 to decide by antecedent reason, we must 
 be content to yield to the force of testi- 
 mony. 
 
 . " By pretension to second sight, no 
 profit was ever sought or gained^ It is 
 an involuntary affection, in which neither 
 hope nor fear is known to have any 
 part. Jhose who profess to feel it do not 
 boast of it as a privilege, nor are consi- 
 dered by others as advantageously dis- 
 tinguished. They have no temptation to 
 feign, and their hearers have no motive 
 to encourage the imposture. 
 
 " To talk with any of these seers is 
 not easy. There is one living in Sky, 
 with whom we would have gladly con- 
 versed ; but he was very gross and ignor- 
 ant, and knew no English. The propor- 
 tion in these countries of the poor to the 
 rich is such, that, if we suppose the quality 
 to be accidental, it can rarely happen to 
 a man of education ; and yet on such men 
 it has sometimes fallen. There is now a 
 second sighted gentleman in the High-? 
 lands, who complains of the terrors to 
 which he is exposed. 
 
 " The foresight of the seers is not 
 always prescience; they are impressed 
 with images, of which the event only 
 shows them the meaning. They tell what 
 they have seen to others, who are at that 
 time not more knowing than themselves, 
 but may become at .last very adequate 
 witnesses, by comparing the narrative 
 with its verification. 
 
 " To collect sufficient testimonies for 
 the satisfaction of the public or ourselves, 
 would have required more time than we 
 could bestow. There is against it, the 
 seeming analogy of things confusedly 
 seen and little understood; and for it, the 
 indistinct' cry of national persuasion, 
 which ^lay perhaps be resolved at last 
 into prejudice and tradition." Dr. John- 
 son concludes with observing, — "I never 
 could advance my curiosity to conviction; 
 but came away, at last, only willing to 
 believe." 
 
 'Rowlands, in his " Mona Antiqua res- 
 taiirata," says, "The magic of the druids, 
 or one part of it, seems to have remained 
 among the Britons, even after their con- 
 version to Christianity, and is called Taish 
 in Scotland; which is a way of predictin g 
 by a sort of vision they call second sight ; 
 
1395 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 24. 
 
 1396 
 
 and I take it to be a relic of druidism, 
 particularly from a noted story related by 
 Vopiscus, of the emperor Dioclesian, who, 
 •when a private soldier in Gallia, on his 
 removing thence, reckoning with his 
 hostess, who was a druid woman, she 
 told him he was too penurious, and did 
 not bear in him the noble soul of a soldier; 
 on his reply, that his pay was small, she, 
 looking stedfastly on him, said that he 
 needed not be so sparing of his money, 
 for, after he should kill a boar, she con- 
 fidently pronounced he would be emperor 
 of Rome, which he took as a compliment 
 from her ; but, seeing her serious in her 
 affirmation, the words she spoke stuck 
 upon him, and he was afterwards much de- 
 lighted in hunting and killing of boars, 
 often saying, when he saw many made 
 emperors, and his own fortune not much 
 mending, I kill the boars, but 'tis others 
 that eat the flesh. Yet it happened that, 
 many years after, one Arrius Aper, father 
 in law of the emperor Numerianus, grasp- 
 ing for the empire, traitorously slew him, 
 for which fact being apprehended by the 
 soldiers and brought before Dioclesian, 
 who being then become a prime cora- 
 .mander in the army, they left the traitor 
 to his disposal, who, asking his name, 
 and being told that he was called Aper, 
 (. e. a boar, without further pause he 
 sheathed his sword in his bowels, saying 
 et hunc Aprum cum ceteris, i. e. ' Even 
 this boar also to the rest :' which done, 
 the soldiers, commending it as a quick, 
 extraordinary act of justice, without fur- 
 ther deliberation saluted him by the name 
 of emperor. I bring this story here in 
 view, as not improper on this hint, nor 
 unuseful to be observed, because it gives 
 fair evidence of the antiquity of the 
 second sight, and withal shows that it 
 descended from the ancient druids, as 
 being one part of the diabolical magic 
 they are charged with : and, upon their 
 dispersion into the territories of Denmark 
 and Swedeland, continued there, in the 
 most heathenish parts, to this day, as is 
 set forth in the story of the late Duncan 
 Campbel."- 
 
 In CoUins's " Ode on the popular Su- 
 perstitions of the Highlands of Scotland" 
 are the following lines on this subject : 
 
 How they, wliose sight such dreary dieams 
 engross. 
 
 With their own vision oft astonish'd droop. 
 When, o*er the wat'ry strath, or quaggy moss. 
 
 They see the gliding ghosts unbodied troop. 
 
 Or, if in sports, or on the festive green. 
 
 Their destin'd glance some fated youth 
 descry. 
 Who, now, perhaps, in lusty vigor seen. 
 And rosy health, shall soon lamented die. 
 • • • • 
 
 To Monarchs dear, some hundred miles 
 astray. 
 
 Oft have they seen Fate give the fatal blow ! 
 
 The Seer, in Sky, shriek'd as the blood did 
 flow 
 When heedless Charles warm on the scaffold 
 lay!" 
 
 The minister of Applecross, in the 
 county of Ross, speaking of his parish- 
 ioners, in 1792, says, " With them the 
 belief of the second sight is general." 
 The following passage is in Waldrou's 
 " Description of the Isle of Man." 
 
 " The natives of the island tell you, 
 that, before any person dies, the proces- 
 sion of the funeral is acted by a sort of 
 beings, which for that end render then- 
 selves visible. I know several that have 
 ofTered to make oath that, as they have 
 been passing the road, one of these fune- 
 rals has come behind them, and even laid 
 the bier on their shoulders, as though to 
 assist the bearers. One person, who as- 
 sured me he had been served so, told me 
 that the flesh of his shoulder had been , 
 very much bruised, and was black for 
 many weeks after. There are few or none 
 of them who pretend not to have seen or 
 heard these imaginary obsequies (for I 
 must not omit that they sing psalms in 
 the same manner as those do who accom- 
 pany the corpse of a dead friend), which 
 so little differ from real ones, that they 
 are not to be known till both coffin and 
 mourners are seen to vanish at the church 
 doors. These they take to be a sort of 
 friendly demons ; and their business, they 
 say, is to warn people of what is to befal 
 them : accordingly, they give notice of 
 any stranger's approach by the trampling 
 of horses at the gate of the house where 
 they are to arrive. As difficult as I found 
 it to bring thyself to give any faith to this, I 
 have frequently been very much surprised, 
 when, on visiting a friend, I have found 
 the table ready spread, and every thing in 
 order to receive me, and been told by the 
 person to whom I went, that he had 
 knowledge of my coming, or some other 
 guest, by these good-natured intelligencers. 
 Nay, when obliged to be absent for some 
 time from home, my own servants have 
 assured me they were informed by these 
 means of my return, and expected me the 
 very hour I came, though perhaps it was 
 
1397 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— ^OVEMBER 26. 
 
 1398 
 
 some days before I hoped it myself at my 
 going abroad. That this is fact, I am 
 positively convinced by many proofs." 
 
 The light vfhich we have gained was 
 given us not to be ever staring on, but by 
 it to discern onward things, more remote 
 from our knowledge. — Milton. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 November 24. — Day breaks . . 5 46 
 
 Sun rises' . . 7 40 
 
 — sets. . . 4 12 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 14 
 
 Kobemfin: 25. 
 
 On the 25th of November, 1724, the 
 ship Bouevia, of London, burthen about 
 250 tons. Captain Brooks commander, 
 set sail irom the coast of Holland, having 
 two pilots, one English, and the other 
 Dutch ; and the captain's wife on board 
 with him. 
 
 The day had been fair and clear; but 
 in the evening, about six, it blew hard at 
 south and by west. The gale increased into 
 a violent storm, and continued for about 
 seven hours, veering to the west, and 
 north and by west ; during which the ship 
 was stranded off Enchuysen, in the 
 Texel. In order to save themselves, if 
 possible, the men all got into the long- 
 boat, and were just ready to put off, but, 
 not seeing their captain among them, they 
 called to him to hasten down, while the 
 sea broke over the boat, and endangered 
 her beating to pieces against the sides of 
 ■the stranded vessel. The captain, in this 
 perilous point of time, rushed to his sea- 
 sick wife in the cabin, and earnestly 
 laboured to bring her along with him. 
 But she, who had heard the men cry out 
 that the boat would sink under the weight 
 of two persons more, embraced him pas- 
 sionately, and refused to go.' She wept, 
 and told him, in the most moTing manner, 
 that a woman in such an extremity would 
 prove a dangerous incumbrance. She 
 implored him not to think of dividing 
 his care, but to employ it all for the preser- 
 vation of his single life, much dearer to 
 -her than her own was. He at length 
 prevailed upon her to ascend upon deck ; 
 where the first observation they made 
 was, that the boat, having been beaten off 
 
 from the ship by the force of the swells 
 was out of sight. The captain gazed in 
 mute despair on his wife's face, when a 
 billow, breaking over the midship, washed 
 him headlong into the sea, and left her 
 shrieking and alone behind him, till, after 
 a succession of the bitterest outcries, she 
 fell forward senseless. The boat, in the 
 mean time, endeavouring to return to the 
 ship, passed providentially near the cap- 
 tain, who was yet faintly swimming ; her 
 crew discerned him in the sea, and 
 snatched him up, spent and speechless. 
 In this condition they laid him at the 
 bottom of the boat, and coming along the 
 ship's side, one of the sailors saw his wife 
 with her arms and clothes entangled in the 
 shrouds. At the moment of her fall she 
 had been saved and supported against the 
 rigging. The boat's crew redoubled their 
 eiforts to save her; and succeeded in 
 dragging her into the boat. They laid 
 her apparently dead by the side of her 
 husband, who was in the same condition, 
 and put off again. 'With great difficulty 
 they got ashore upon one of the islands 
 in the Texel. Here the captain, on 
 coming to himself, told his crew that 
 they would have done more kindly had 
 they let him perish in the sea, since his 
 life would be for ever imbittered by the 
 unhappy death of her for whose sake only 
 he had thought it worth preserving. His 
 wife was sufficiently recovered, and near 
 enough to hear and answer this noble 
 instance of her husband's tenderness. In 
 a moment they were in each other's arms, 
 with transports of joy, less capable of 
 description than of being imagined. 
 
 This relation was taken from the mouth 
 of an eye-witness to their providential 
 rescue, and happy discovery of each 
 other's safety.* 
 
 n. m. 
 
 November 25. — Day breaks . 5 47 
 Sun rises . . 7 49 
 — sets . . 4 11 
 Twilight ends . 6 13 
 
 Nobemfi^t; 26. 
 
 Yesterday, the narrative of the provi- 
 dential survival of a captain and his wife, 
 and their transports on disccfvering each 
 other to be alive,after each had supposed the 
 other had perished, may be well succeeded 
 
 • Plain-Dealer, No. 88. 
 
1399 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 26. 
 
 1400 
 
 by an affecting story of a final separation 
 inflicted by a cruel doom of law. The 
 narration forms the first paper of an ob*- 
 solete periodical work.* 
 
 Punishment of Death. 
 
 The long-protracted gazings, the pale- 
 ness, the tremblings, and the ghastly dis- 
 torted faces, of the poor departing strag- 
 glers (who die with strong reluctance, and 
 linger and lengthen out their last painful 
 moment), would be a startling sight to 
 tliose whose province it is to weigh with 
 pity and deliberation, whether punish- 
 ments more adequate, and more politic, 
 than death, might not be awarded to the 
 commission of crime. 
 
 One evening, very lately, all ray neigh- 
 bourhood, in Barbican, were in an uproar 
 on a sudden ; and I was disturbed in my 
 meditations by the shrieking of a woman, 
 the mixed cries of children, and a grow- 
 ing hum of concourse, that seemed close 
 under my window. I threw aside my 
 pipe, and, hastening to look out, saw the 
 street entirely filled by a group of dismal 
 faces, that had gathered themselves into a 
 lumult about a house directly opposite, 
 and appeared to be touched, as strongly 
 as common natures are capable, with a 
 mixture of surprise and sorrow. It 
 seems, the husband of a laborious poor 
 creature, who was mistress of this house, 
 had been condemned at the county assizes, 
 in one of the late circuits, for stealing a 
 borse ; and a letter had just now been 
 delivered to his wife, which the criminal 
 himself had written the very morniiig he 
 was executed. 
 
 His relations and acquaintance had 
 depended on a reprieve : for the man was 
 universally beloved among his neigh- 
 bours ; and, though always very poor, 
 and unfortunate in his dealings, had been 
 of a sober disposition, remarkable for his 
 industry, and never known before to have 
 beeen guilty of the least dishonesty. He 
 had six children alive, and the eldest but 
 eight years old. His mother, who lived 
 in the same little house, had been dis- 
 abled by sickness for several months 
 past : so that, perceiving it beyond his 
 power to subsist his family any longer, 
 and not daring to stay in town by reason 
 of some debts he had contracted, he went 
 down to try his friends, who lived in 
 good circumstances in the country. But, 
 instead of meeting wiih assistance, he 
 
 • Plain Dealer, May 12, 1724, in Dr. 
 Drake's Gleaner. 
 
 only spent in this journey all the little he 
 had carried with him ; and, not being 
 able to support the thoughts of returning 
 without bread to a family in such want of 
 it, he rode away with a horse which he 
 found tied to a gate ; and, being pursued 
 and overtaken, was tried, condemned, and 
 hanged for it. 
 
 This history was loudly given me by 
 the good women in the street ; after 
 which, I had the curiosity to press in 
 among the crowd ; and was struck at my 
 first entrance by the most moving scene 
 of sorrow that I ever remember to have 
 met with. The widow had broken open 
 her husband's letter, in transport, con- 
 cluding that it brought her the confirma- 
 tion of a reprieve, which a former had 
 given her hopes of. But she was so 
 shocked and overwhelmed by the sudden 
 reverse, that her grief was a kind of mad- 
 ness. She sat on the floor without her 
 head dress, and across her knees was an 
 infant crying with great impatience for 
 the breast it had beefi thrown irom. Ano- 
 ther slept in the cradle, close by a little 
 bed, in which the grandmother sat weep- 
 ing, bending forward in strong agony, and 
 wringing her hands in silence. The four 
 eldest children were gathered into a knot, 
 and clung about the neck of their miser- 
 able mother, stamping, screaming, and 
 kissing her, in a storm of distracted ten- 
 derness. The poor woman herself was 
 in a condition past describing. She 
 pressed the letter of her dead husband to 
 her eyes I — ^her lips 1 — ^her bosom 1 She 
 raved, and talked, and questioned him as 
 if he had been present, and at every little 
 interval, dried her tears with his letter ; 
 and cast a look upon the company, so 
 wild, and so full of horror, that it cannot 
 be conceived but by those who were wit- 
 nesses of it. 
 
 As soon as she saw me there, she 
 stretched out her hand, and made signs 
 that I should read the letter : which I re- 
 ceived from her accordingly ; and going 
 back to my lodging, with a resolution to 
 send over some fitter person than myself 
 to assist in the distresses of so disconso- 
 late a family, I sat down and took a copy 
 of it, because it moved me exceedingly. 
 " Dear loving Betty, 
 
 " It is now nine o'clock ; and I must be 
 fetched out by and by, and go- to die 
 before eleven. I shall see my poor Bess 
 no more in this world ; but if we meet 
 one another again in the next, as I hope 
 in God we shall, we may never part 
 
1401 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.- NOVEMBER 26. 
 
 1402 
 
 afterwards. Methinks, if T could but 
 only once more look upon my good Betty 
 before I die, though it should be but for 
 a minute, and say a kind word to my 
 fatherless children, that must starve now 
 if God do not take care for them, I should 
 go away with a good heart. And yet 
 sometimes I fancy it is better as it iSj for 
 it would be sad to die afterwards ; and I 
 fear it would make me fainthearted, and I 
 should be wishing that I might live to 
 get you bread and clothes for your pre- 
 cious bodies. Sarah Taylor made my 
 heart ache, when she told me that you 
 had pawned away every thing, to make 
 up that last fifty shillings that you sent me 
 by Will Sanderson, who is now in the 
 room with me, and sits down upon the 
 straw that I laid on last night, and is 
 weeping for me like a child. But God 
 will make up all the money to you again, 
 that you have let me have to no purpose. 
 And I should be sorry that any unkind 
 body should hit it in your teeth that I 
 come to such an untimely bad end ; for 
 I thought as little of it as they do. But 
 all the way as I walked up to London 
 afoot, I could not help baviqg a fancy in 
 my head at every turn, that I saw my 
 poor dear Betty, and my six helpless 
 little ones, hanging upon me, and crying 
 out bitterly that they had no bread to 
 keep life in them, and begging me tq buy 
 them some ; and so I thought that I 
 would sell that horse, and make you 
 believe that I got money of your sister 
 Parker; but she was too sparing for that, 
 and would never once look upon me. I 
 pray to God to forgive her ; and, if she 
 would but be good to you when I am 
 gone, God bless her. Loving Betty, re- 
 member me to my sorrowful mother, and 
 tell her not to take on too much. And 
 bid Richard and Harry take warning by 
 my fall, if ever they come to be men : 
 and for the poor girls, they are too young 
 as yet to understand any thing you, can 
 say to them. God's goodness be your 
 comfort ! and, if you can, don't think 
 about me, for it will make you only 
 melancholy. I hope the old deputy will 
 be kind to you, and help you to do some- 
 what. I am sorry I cannot write more, 
 because my tears are come into my eyes. 
 Little did I think of this dismal parting 
 —Oh ! 'tis very sad ! — God bless you in 
 this unhappy world, dear dear Betty 
 " From your unfortunate, 
 
 " dying husband, 
 
 "R..S." 
 I carried this letter wi«h me to ai. 
 
 assembly, where it was universally agreed 
 that there is a plain-hearted honesty very 
 manifest in all parts of it ; and a gener- 
 ous and manly sorrow, not arising so much 
 from his own desire to live, as from a 
 prospect of their wants whom his death 
 was to leave destitute. Our clergyman in 
 particular was greatly moved to compas- 
 sion, and proposed a charitable collection 
 to be sent to the poor widow, to which 
 himself contributed first in a very liberal 
 proportion. 
 
 He related to us afterwards an extra- 
 ordinary dying speech, of a very different 
 turn, which he heard made, when a 
 student, by a house-breaker, who was 
 hanged for murder and a robbery. 
 
 "Good people (said the criminal) since 
 I am to serve you for a sight, the least 
 you can do is to be civil to the man that 
 entertains you. I ask nothing of you 
 but the justice that is due to me. There 
 are some meddling tongues, which I can 
 hear among the crowd, very busy to in- 
 cense you. Though it is true I have 
 committed murder, yet I hope I am no 
 murderer. The felony I really purposed, 
 but my intention had no part in the death 
 that I was guilty of. The deceased cried 
 for help, and was so obstinate and clam- 
 orous, that I was under the necessity to 
 kill him, or submit myself to be taken. 
 And thus I argued in ray miud r if I 
 murder him I shall get off; or, at worst, 
 if I am taken my punishment will be no 
 greater than if I spare him, and surrender: 
 I can be but hanged for murder, and I 
 must be hanged too for the house-break- 
 ■ ing. This thought, good people, pre- 
 vailed with me to shoot him; so 'that 
 what you call murder was but self pre- 
 servation. Now, that I should have died 
 in this same manner, whether I had shot 
 him or no, witness these two weak bro- 
 thers here, who look as if they were 
 already !fX the other end of their voyage, 
 though they have not hoisted sail yet : 
 one of these stole some bacon, and the 
 other a wet shirt or two. The law must 
 be certainly wiser than you are ; and since 
 that has been pleased to set our crimes 
 on a level, be so civil, or compassionate, 
 as to hold your silly tongues, and let me 
 die without slander." 
 
 h. m, 
 
 November 26.— Day breaks . . 5 48 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 50 
 
 — sets . . 4 10 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 12 
 
1403 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.- NOVEMBER 27, 28. 
 
 1404 
 
 Noij^mfi^v 27. 
 
 November 27, 1621,the House of Lords 
 sentenced John Blount to pillory, impri- 
 sonment, and labor for life, for counter- 
 feiting a lord's protection. This was the 
 first case of imprisonment beyond the 
 session by the House of Lords^ The first 
 precedent for their infliction of fines ap- 
 pears about two years afterwards, when 
 they sentenced one Morley to pay £1000, 
 and condemned him to the pillory, for a 
 libel on the lord keeper.* 
 
 The following inscription is on a tomb- 
 stone at Ivy church-yard in 1- ent. 
 
 {_Literal CoppJJ 
 
 In Memory of 
 
 Hannah Margaret, 
 
 Daughter of Matthew and Hannah B , 
 
 who died Nov, 27th, 1827, aged 5 years. 
 Great his our greif. 
 Great was her pain> 
 Great hU our loss. 
 Great hia her gain. 
 Also near this place lieth the Remains 
 
 of two of their infants. 
 In Sevenoaks church-yard is the fol- 
 lowing 
 
 Epitaph. 
 Grim Death took me without any warning, 
 I was well at night and dead at nine in the 
 morning. 
 
 n. m. 
 
 'November 27. — ^Day breaks . 5 49 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 52 
 
 — sets. ..48 
 
 Tvfilight ends . 6 11 
 
 Wobf niter 28. 
 
 Omens. 
 
 Omens and prognostications of things. 
 Bourne says, " are still in the mouths of 
 all, though only observed by the vulgar. 
 In country places especially they ar^ 
 in great repute, and are the directors of 
 several actions of life, being looked upon 
 as presages of things future, or the de- 
 terminers of present good or evil. He 
 specifies several, and derives them with 
 the greatest probability from the heathens, 
 whose observation of these he deduces 
 also' from the practice of the Jews, with 
 whom it was a custom to ask signs. He 
 concludes all such observations at present 
 to be sinful and diabolical. 
 
 Law Magazine, 1831, p. 3. 
 
 The following lines, are from " Wyth* 
 ther's Abuses stript and whipl," 1613: — 
 
 For worthless matters some are wondroiis sad. 
 Whom if I call not vaine I must tcrme mad. 
 If that their noses bleed some certain droiis. 
 And then again upon the suddain stops, 
 Or, if the babling foule we call a jay, 
 A squirrell, or a hare, but cross their way. 
 Or, if the salt fall toward them at table. 
 Or any such like superstitious bable. 
 Their mirth is spoil'd, because they hold it 
 
 true 
 That some mischance must thereupon ensue. — 
 
 Somniis, vibratione Palpebrae, Sortibus, 
 Jactis, &c. ad quae preesagia homines 
 bardi stupent attoniti : inquisitores futu- 
 rorum negligentes prssentia. 
 
 Dr. Hickes, in a letter to Dr. Charlett, 
 Master of University. College, Oxford; 
 dated Jan. 23, 1710-11, and preserved 
 in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, men- 
 tions " the Omens that happened at the 
 Coronation of K. James the second, 
 which," says he, " I saw : viz. the totter- 
 ing of the Crown upon his head ; the 
 broken canopy over it; and the rent 
 Flag hanging upon the white Tower when 
 I came home from the Coronation. It 
 was torn by the wind at the same time 
 the signal was given to the Tower that he 
 was crowned. I put no great stress upon 
 these Omens, but I cannot despise them ; 
 most of them, I believe, come by chance, 
 but some from superior intellectual agents, 
 especially those which regard the fate of 
 Kings and Nations." 
 
 Of this unfortunate Monarch his bro- 
 ther Charles II. is said to have prophesied 
 as follows, with great success : the King 
 said one day to Sir Richard Bulstrode, 
 " I am weary of travelling, I am resolved 
 to go abroad no more : but, when I am 
 dead and gone, I know not what my 
 brother will do ; I am much afraid when 
 he comes to the throne he will be obliged 
 to travel again." Ibid. p. 51. 
 
 Gay, in his fable of the farmer's wife 
 and the raven, thus ridicules some of our 
 superstitious omens : 
 
 Why are those tears ? why droops your head ? 
 Is then your other husband dead 1 
 Or does a worse disgrace beUde ? 
 Hath no one since his death applied t 
 
 Alas ! yon know the cause too well. 
 The salt is snilt, to me it fell. 
 Then to contribute to my loss. 
 My knife and fork were laid across, 
 
 • Legal Observer, Feb. 5, 1831. 
 
1405 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 29, 30. 
 
 1406 
 
 On Friday too ! the day T dread ! 
 Would I were safe at home in hed ! 
 Last night (I vow to heav'n 'tis true) 
 Bounce from the lire a coffin flew. 
 Next post some fatal news shall tell ! 
 Crod send my Cornish &iends be well 
 That raven on yon left-hand oak 
 ^Curse on his ill-betiding croak "), 
 Bodes me no good. No more she said. 
 When poor blind ball, with stumbling tread. 
 
 Fell prone ; Vertum'd the pannier lay. 
 And her mash'd e^s bestrew'd the way. 
 She, sprawling in the yellow roa4, 
 Ttail'd, swore, and curst. Thou croaking toad, 
 A murrain take thy whoreson throat ! 
 I knew misfortune in the note. 
 
 Dame, quoth the raven, spare your oaths, 
 TJndench your fist, and wipe your clothes ; 
 But why on me those curses thrown 1 
 Goody, the fault was all your own ; 
 For, had you laid this brittle ware 
 On Dan, the old sure-footed mare. 
 Though all the ravens of the hundred 
 With croaking had your tongue ont-thonder'd> 
 Sure-footed Dun bad kept his legs. 
 And you, good woman, sav'd your eggs. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 November 28. — Day breaks . . 5 50 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 53 
 
 — sets ..47 
 
 Twilight ends. 6 10 
 
 Nob^mfiev 29. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 November 29, 1759, died at Keysoe, a 
 village about nine miles from Bedfofd, 
 aged seventy-three, William Dickins, 
 whose life was distinguished by the fol- 
 lowing remarkable incident : — 
 
 Dickins was a bricklayer and mason. 
 On the 17th of April, 1718, he was en- 
 gaged in pointing the steeple of the 
 church, and fell from the middle window 
 of the spire (a-height of 132 feet) over 
 the south-west pinnacle. Jn his fall he 
 struck the battlements with such force 
 that his leg and foot were dreadfully 
 fractured, and part of the stone work 
 precipitated with hint to the ground ; he 
 sustained so little injury in other respects 
 that in the course of a few months from 
 the period of his fall he was sufficiently 
 recovered to be capable of re-ascending 
 the steeple to finish his work, which he 
 
 accomplished, and lived for forty years 
 afterwards in the fiill enjoyment of all 
 his faculties. The chair in which he sat 
 while engaged in pointing the steeple was 
 securely suspended by a strong rope of 
 four strands, yet it parted, as was sup- 
 posed, through the rocking of the spire 
 occasioned by the striking of the church- 
 clock, but upon examining the rope it 
 appeared that three of the four strands of 
 which it was composed had been pur- 
 posely cut through with a knife or some 
 sharp instrument. Dickins had been in 
 company with a person of the same busi- 
 ness the evening before his disaster : and 
 on the strength of the old proverb, " two 
 of a trade seldom agree, " suspicion arose 
 that Dickins's rival had privily cut the 
 rope. 
 
 He had been an unsuccessful candidate 
 for the task which the parish anthorities 
 had assigned to Dickins in preference. 
 That this- suspicion was just never was 
 satisfactorily proved, but an awful fact, 
 remains on record : the man who was pre- 
 sumed to have worked this secret revenge, 
 having shortly afterwards finished erecting 
 a stack of chimneys, ascended to the top 
 of them to give (as is usual on such oc- 
 casions)^ a,n exulting shout on the com- 
 pletion of this part of his building, when 
 the work not being sufficiently dry gave 
 way, and falling with him he was dashed 
 to pieces. There is still tQ be seen in 
 Keysoe church-yard an old stone, which 
 formerly contained an inscription com- 
 memorative of the above remarkable cir- 
 cumstances, but now entirely obliterated 
 by the ravages of time " that destrgyeth 
 all things." 
 
 &, n* is. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 November 29. — Day breaks . 5 51 
 
 Sun rises . . 7 54 
 
 — sets ..46 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 9 
 
 Nob^mi^i^i; 30. 
 
 St. Andrew. 
 
 This is the festival day of the patron 
 saint of Scotland. There are particulars 
 relating to it in the Every-Day Book. 
 
 November 30, 1793, died at Beaumaris 
 William Lewis, Esq., of Llandisman, in 
 
140T 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 30 
 
 1408 
 
 the act of drinking a cup of Welsh ale, 
 containing about a wine quart, called a 
 tumbler maur. He made it a rule, every 
 morning of his life, to read so many 
 chapters in the Bible, and in the even- 
 ing to drink eight gallons of ale. It 
 is calculated that in his life-time he 
 must have drunk a sufficient quantity to 
 float a seventy-four gun ship. His size 
 was astonishing, and he weighed forty 
 stone. Although he died in his parlour, 
 it was found necessary to construct a 
 machine in form of a crane, to lift his 
 body on a carriage, and afterwards to have 
 the machine in the church-yard to let 
 him down into the grave. He went by 
 the name of the king of Spain, and his 
 family by the different titles of prince, 
 infanta, &c. 
 
 Sailing Fish 
 
 November 30, 1822. Under this date 
 there is the following account from Sin- 
 gapore in the Life of Sir Stamford 
 Raffles, — "the only amusing discovery 
 which we have recently made is that of 
 a sailing fish, called *by the natives ikan 
 layer, of about ten or twelve feet long, 
 which hoists a main sail, and often sails 
 in the manner of a native boat, and with 
 considerable swiftness. I have sent a set 
 of the sails home, as they are beautifully 
 cut, and form a model for a fast sailing 
 boat — they are composed of the dorsal 
 fins of the animal, and, when a shoal of 
 these are under sail together, they ai'e 
 frequently mistaken for a fleet of native 
 boats." 
 
 EXEECISE AND ReCREATIOK 
 
 The exercise which I recommend first is 
 the exact use of their weapons, to guard 
 and to strike safely with edge or point; this 
 will keep them healthy, nimble, strong 
 and well in breath; is also the likeliest 
 means to make them grow large and tall, 
 and to inspire them with a gallant and 
 fearless courage, which, being tempeied 
 with seasonable lectures and precepts to 
 them of true fortitude and patience, will 
 turn into an active and heroic valor, 
 anH make them hate the cowardice of 
 doing wrong. The interim of unsweatin^; 
 themselves regularly, and convenient rest 
 before meat, may both with profit and 
 delight be taken up in recreating and 
 composing their travailed spirits with the 
 solemn' and divine harmonies of music 
 heard or learned ; either whilst the skilful 
 organist plies his grave and fencied de- 
 scant in lofty fugues, or the whole of the 
 symphony with artful and unimaginable 
 touches adorn and grace the well studied 
 chords of some choice composer ; some- 
 times the lute or soft organ stop waiting 
 on elegant voices, either to religious, mar- 
 tial, or civil ditties ; which, if wise men 
 and prophets be not extremely out, have 
 a great power over dispositions and man- 
 ners, to smooth and make them gentle 
 from rustic harshness and distempered 
 passions. — Milton. 
 
 November 30. — Day breaks 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 ^- sets . . 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 52 
 
 55 
 
 5 
 
 8 
 
 Thus wears the month along, in checker 'd moods. 
 Sunshine and shadows, tempests loud, and calms ; 
 One hour dies silent o'er the sleepy woods. 
 The next wakes loud with unexpected storms ; 
 A dreary nakedness the field deforms — 
 Yet many a rural sound, and rural sight, 
 Lives in the village still about the farms. 
 Where toil's rude uproar hums f-om morn till night — 
 
 Noises in which the ears of Industry delight. 
 
 At Itngth the stir of rural Labui-'s still. 
 And Industry her care awhile foregoes ; 
 When Winter comes in earnest to fulfil 
 His yearly task, at bleak November's close. 
 And stops the plough, and hides the field in snows ; 
 When frost locks up the stream in chill delay. 
 And mellows on the hedge the jetty sloes. 
 For little birds — then Toil hath time for play. 
 
 And nought but threshers' flails awake the dreary day. 
 
 Clare. 
 
140909 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 
 
 1410 
 
 45. 
 
 DECEMBER. 
 
 Glad Christmas comes, and every hearth 
 
 Makes room to give him welcome now, 
 E'en want will dry its tears in mirth, 
 
 And crown him with a holly bough ; 
 Though tramping 'neath a wintry sky, 
 
 O'er snowy paths and rimy stiles 
 The housewife sets her spinning by 
 
 To bid him welcome with her smiles. 
 
 Each house is swept the day before, 
 
 And windows stuck with ever-greens, 
 The. snow is besom'd from the door, 
 
 And comfort crowns the cottage scenes. 
 Gilt holly, with its thorny pricks, 
 
 And yew and box, with Ijerries small. 
 These deck the unused candlesticks. 
 
 And pictures hanging by the wall. 
 
 Clare's Shepherd's Calendar 
 2 Z. 
 
1411 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER. 1412 
 
 Now is the season of dreariness and rich " fare sumptuously every day" ; and 
 
 gloom. The sun rises late and sets early : retire, sated with enjoyment, to couches of 
 
 his beams display not the vapors that pleasure. In their vicinage are some who, 
 
 reek up with intense cold. The dark at night-fall, huddle together for warmth, 
 
 days of Christmas end with falls of or creep with their famishing offspring to 
 
 snow ; and the frozen earth yields no cheerless resting-places, and forget their 
 
 sustenance to animals. misery until they awaken to it in the 
 
 At night, bursts of revelry break forth morning, 
 from the illuminated mansions of the op- To shelter the houseless, clothe the 
 
 ulent. If we listen at the hovels of the naked, and feed the hungry, to avert the 
 
 destitute we may hear the low waitings of rigors of the season from the needy, and 
 
 helplessness, and the cries of infancy. to make the poor man's heart leap for joy, 
 
 Now come the advent, and celebration of is a recipe for a merry Christmas, 
 the festival in memory of that great Birth They whom " the day-spring from on 
 
 Day which was proclaimed with " Glory high hath visited," especially know that to 
 
 to God in the highest ! and on earth do unto others as we would be done unto 
 
 peace! good will towards men !" And the is the bond of haman brotherhood. 
 
 Stanzas. 
 [Original.^ 
 
 Hard is the lot of cheerless poverty ! 
 May none who read it, by experience know 
 That this is true — none ever feel like me 
 The sad extremes of hopeless grief and woe ! 
 Harsh is perhaps my verse — can roses blow 
 Where no warm genial sunbeams ever shine ? 
 Or polished numbers rich in music flow 
 From any breast so sad and seared as mine ? 
 But ah ! the thoughtless world will mock if I repine ! 
 
 One flower — the primrose — ^from its chilly bed 
 Peeps lovely e'en while winter lingers round, 
 And not another dares to lift its head 
 Above the surface of the frozen ground : 
 Such may the beauty of my verse be found — 
 A wintry blossom — tho' not like the scene 
 Where all the beauties of the spring abound, 
 Except that lovely flower, so pale and mean. 
 Which sweetly spread its leaf when nought beside was green. 
 
 But ah ! 'tis spring with all the world but me ! 
 In each poetic garden, richly fair. 
 Prolific nature's store of bounty see. 
 All but the primrose show their beauty there. 
 Those blooming beds the marks of culture bear ; 
 And my poor wild-flower will but be despised. 
 Low tenant of the waste ! — not worth the care 
 Of being thence transplanted ; only prized 
 When Nature's lovely face is dreary and disguised. 
 
 Then let me wed thee to mine own sad heart : 
 Thou art my all, and I will treasure thee — 
 E'en wild and worthless, as perhaps thou art, 
 There is a charm in thy simplicity. 
 Sweetly enticing, tho' to none but me 
 And should I try to make the world admire. 
 And love thee too, contempt my fate would be, 
 While in cold critic blight must thou expire ; 
 Or flowers of prouder bloom would shame thee to retire. 
 
1413 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER. 
 
 1414 
 
 Yet many a withering blast we've braved before 
 And little sunshine serves to nourish thee, 
 Thou art a winter blossom — I am poor — 
 Go, let the world thy humble beauty see — 
 Say thou art dear to suffering Poverty ; 
 And then, if thou art trampled and despised. 
 From man's contempt return again to me; 
 Still by my partial heart wilt thou be prized, 
 E'en though to scorn thee too, perfidiously advised. 
 
 Can I the magic charms of song resign 
 For ought the world accounts more worth its care ? 
 Can ought so sweetly soothe this breast of mine. 
 Or raise my hopes when drooping to despair ? 
 E'en wealth and honours though they promise fair. 
 Can no real pleasure to the mind impart ! 
 All those let avarice and ambition share ; 
 But I cannot acquire their grovelling art. 
 While Nature has such charms for my devoted heart. 
 
 When all the vernal choirs their songs begin. 
 As early spring peeps forth in new array ; 
 Like them enamoured of the lovely scene. 
 With imitative power I join the lay : 
 When tuneful Phoebus gains his brightening way, 
 Who can his powerful influence resist? 
 And as the year is waning fast away. 
 An elegiac thought inspires my breast ; 
 And late in wintry strains are my own woes expressed ! 
 
 A. B, 
 
 Alimentary Calendar. 
 
 Fish in season, during December, are 
 turbot, skate, soles, mackarel (a" small 
 supply), haddock, cod, whiting, holibut, 
 lampreys (chiefly for potting), lobsters, 
 oysters, and other shell-fish. 
 
 The game, wild-fowl, and poultry of the 
 month, are hares, partridges, pheasants, 
 wild and tame rabbits, grouse, wild-ducks, 
 widgeons, teal, plovers, woodcocks, snipes, 
 larks, turkeys, capons, pullets, chickens, 
 geese, and ducks. 
 
 Butcher's meat of various kinds is to 
 be had in great perfection. 
 
 Towards the 20th of the month there is 
 an annual prize show of cattle, near Smith- 
 field ; and, afterwards, as a suitable sequel 
 to the exhibition, a good dinner. 
 
 During the advance of Christmas, ar- 
 rivals from the country, of poultry and 
 game, become more frequent and abun- 
 dant. 
 
 Large quantities of brawn come up, 
 chiefly from Canterbury and Oxfordshire. 
 It is manufactured from the flesh of large 
 boars, which are suffered to live in a half 
 wild state, and when put up to fatten, are 
 strapped and belted tight round the prin- 
 
 cipal parts of the carcase, in order that 
 the flesh may become dense and brawny. 
 This article comes to market in rolls about 
 two feet long, and ten inches in diameter, 
 packed in wicker baskets. It is commonly 
 vended by fishmongers and pastry-cooks, 
 who, at this season, generally expose, 
 along with it, a boar's headj with a lemon 
 stuck between the tusks. 
 
 Christmas week is a season of festivity 
 among all ranks of people. The middling 
 classes, who are for the most part immers- 
 ed in the cares of business throughout the 
 year, welcome and celebrate it as a period 
 of holiday enjoyment ; while, at the tables 
 of the rich, the refinements of foreign in- 
 vention are for once superseded by the 
 simpler products of old English cookery, 
 roast beef and plum-pudding, turkey s and 
 chines, ham and fowls, capons and sau- 
 sages, saddles and haunches of mutton ; 
 with a profusion of custards and pies, 
 and, among them that characteristic luxury, 
 the mince- pie. 
 
 Charles Small Pybus, esq., author of 
 " The Sovereign (a poem): dedicated to 
 2 Z 2 
 
1415 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 1. 
 
 1416 
 
 His Imperial Majesty of all the Russias," 
 sumptuously printed in folio, by Bensley, 
 is reputed to be the author of " The Mince 
 Pye ; an heroic epistle " — from the same 
 splendid press — dedicated "toaplum,pud- 
 ding," and commencing with these lines, 
 
 Oh king of Gates, whose pastry bounded reign 
 Is felt and own'd o'er pastry's wide domain ! 
 "Whom greater gluttons own their sovereign 
 
 lord. 
 Than ever bow'd beneath the dubbing sword ; 
 Than ever heard the famous bell of Bow, 
 Or gaz'd with transport on a lord mayor's 
 
 show ! 
 Say, can the spices from the eastern grove. 
 The fragrant cinnamon, the dusky clove. 
 The strength of all the aromatic train 
 That careful Dutchmen waft across the main. 
 The pastry frontier, the embattled crust. 
 Moulded with butter and the mealy dust. 
 The taper rolling-pin that, white and round. 
 Rolls o'er the dresser with a thund'ring sound: 
 Can apples, currants, raisins, all combin'd 
 Make a mince-pye delight the taste refin'd. 
 Command the praises of the pamperM guest. 
 ' Or court the palate with a genuine zest ? 
 No ; none of these the appetite can crown. 
 Or smooth the hungry aldermanic frown ; 
 Weak in themselves alone, their tastes dis- 
 pense 
 Fallacious seemings to the outward sense : 
 Their truest influence depends on this : 
 Are these the objects of a glutton's bliss ? 
 But happy they, thrice happy, who possess 
 The art to mix these sweets with due address. 
 Delight in pastry, temper well the crust. 
 And hold the rolling-pin a sacred trust ; 
 Not in the tyrant's persecuting mood. 
 But as a graceful instrument of good. 
 Where shall the cook discern so sure a way 
 To give mince-pies an universal sway ? 
 For when the sweets, combin'd with happy 
 
 skill. 
 The light puff-paste with meat delicious fill. 
 Like Albion's rich plum-pudding, famous 
 
 grown. 
 The mince-pye reigns in realms beyond his 
 
 own : 
 Through foreign latitudes his pow'r extends. 
 And only terminates where eating ends : 
 Biest Epicures from ev'ry climate pour 
 Their gustful praise, his cumulating store. 
 Improved in sweets an-d spices, hourly draws 
 The countless tribute of a world's applause. 
 Hail then, exalted pye, whose high renown 
 Danes, Dutchmen, Russians, with applsiuses 
 
 crown ! 
 Sov'reign of Cates, all hail ! nor thou refuse 
 This cordial off'ring from an English muse. 
 Who pours the brandy in libation free. 
 And finds plum-pudding realiz'd in thee. — ■ 
 Chaunts the high faymn to themes that far 
 
 surpass 
 The luxuries of honour'd Mrs. Glasse. 
 
 Kitchen Garden Directory. 
 
 Very little can be done in the garden, 
 in December, yet advantage may be taken 
 of open seasons, to sow a few early frames 
 of Charlton peas, beans, and radishes; 
 they must be protected with long litter, or 
 fern-leaves. Earth up peas, beans, bro- 
 coli, &c., and proceed, generally, as di- 
 rected in November and January. 
 
 The Author of Nature has given to 
 every thing which his power has created, 
 peculiar properties; by a knowledge of, 
 and attention to which, alone, we are able 
 to bring any thing to perfection, or to the 
 approach of it. To the vegetable world 
 he has given its peculiarities, and, in the 
 cultivation thereof, we attend to the diver- 
 sities of each particular species of plant, 
 never failing to give it, as far as our 
 knowledge and ability enable us to do so, 
 the soil, situation, and temperature, that 
 it requires; well knowing that it would 
 be vain and foolish to attempt to make it 
 accommodate itself to any soil, situation, 
 or temperature, which we should choose 
 to prefer. Human beings only require to be 
 treated as we treat plants. — The Social 
 System, by John Gray, 1831. 
 
 Mtttvattv 1. 
 
 An Alphabet for Beginners, on the 
 beginning of each month. 
 
 A bove all rules observe this — Honesty is 
 
 the best Policy. 
 B e just to others, that you may be just 
 
 to yourself. 
 C ut your coat according to your cloth. 
 D esperate cuts must have desperate 
 
 cures. 
 E nough is as good as a feast. 
 F air and softly go sure and far. 
 G entility, without ability, is worse than 
 
 beggary. 
 H alf a loaf is better than no bread. 
 I die folks take the most pains. 
 J okes are as bad coin to all but the 
 
 jocular. 
 K eep your business and conscience well, 
 
 and they will keep you well. 
 L ive and let live ; that is, do as you 
 
 would be done by. 
 M isunderstandings are best prevented by 
 
 pen and ink. 
 N ever take credit; and, as much as pos- 
 sible, avoid giving it. 
 O ut of debt out of danger. 
 
1417 
 
 THE YFAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 2. 
 
 P assion -will master you, if you do not 
 
 master your passion. 
 Q uick at meat, quick at work. 
 R evenge a wrong by forgiving it. 
 S liort reckonings make long friends. 
 T he early bird catcheth the worm. 
 
 V enture not all you have at once. 
 
 U nmannerliness is not so impolite as 
 overpoliteness. 
 
 W ade not in unknown waters. 
 
 'X amine your accounts and your con- 
 duct every night. 
 
 Y ou may find your worst enemy, or best 
 
 friend, in yourself. 
 Z ealously keep down little expenses, and 
 you will not incur large ones. 
 
 
 
 h. 
 
 m. 
 
 1.- 
 
 — Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 
 
 53 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . r 
 
 56 
 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 , 4 
 
 4 
 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 
 
 7 
 
 SBtcemttv 2, 
 
 St. » AMEs's PiLACE. 
 
 On the 2nd of December, 1784, Mr. 
 William Hutton, of Birmingham, arrived 
 in London, upon a subpoena, to give evi- 
 dence upon a trial in the court of king's 
 bench. He paid a visit to St. James's 
 palace, and his account is characteristic 
 of himself and the place. 
 
 Mr. Hutton says, " This place has more 
 the appearance of a prison than a palace. 
 It is ancient, low, extensive, dark, and 
 abounds with irregular chimneys. My 
 chief view was to see the head of a femily 
 which has long had my best wishes. The 
 pleasure-grounds, which form the park, 
 are extremely delightful, and well fur- 
 nished with live stock. 
 
 "In the first room I entered, were placed 
 in order a grear number of arms. I seem, 
 says I, to be arrived upon peaceable 
 ground, for these arms appear out of use, 
 by the dust upon them. ' They are 
 cleaned, sir, once in two years.' Then I 
 suppose the two years are nearly expired ? 
 A smile was the answer. I passed through 
 two or three other apartments, when a 
 gentleman approached me. — 'Sir, it is 
 not customary for any person to appear 
 in the king's court with his hat on.' I 
 beg pardon, sir; I was so attentive to 
 the objects before me, I forgot I had 
 one. In the grand council room I 
 was indulged, like other children, with 
 the chair of state. The chandeliers 
 and girandoles were of silver; rather 
 
 1418 
 
 heivy, and not very elegant ; and though 
 the furniture was rich, not too rich for a 
 sovereign prince. In one of the apart- 
 ments I was regaled, though a stranger, 
 with a fricassee and a jelly. The good 
 lady, whilst spreading the napkin on the 
 table, which had twenty holes, uttered, 
 with half a smile and half a sigh, ' poor 
 George!' The napkin, however, was 
 clean, which is more than can be said of 
 every thing under that spacious roof. If 
 some frugal housewife should ask why 
 the holes were not mended, — she may be 
 answered, people are not apt to mend at 
 St. James's. Moving up St. James's- 
 street, my curiosity was excited by seeing 
 a dozen sedan chairs standing together, 
 and the chairmen waiting. I concluded 
 It nmst be the residence of a nobleman, 
 and the lady of the mansion then held her 
 evening rout. Upon enquiry, I was told 
 ' it was the prince of 's gaming- 
 house.' And so in this house, then, he 
 learns to conduct t/ie kings. Pray is 
 there another, where he learns to conduct 
 the people ?" 
 
 The Bank. 
 Afterwards Mr. Hutton went to the 
 bank, upon which he observed " The 
 money-changers who resort to this tem- 
 ple are of two kinds, those who want, 
 and those who abound. The influence of 
 the bank is not limited to trade. One of 
 their notes, which is value without weight, 
 in the hands of a lover, would soften the 
 obdurate heart of his mistress ; would roll 
 the gilt chariot, and furnish six footmen 
 in livery ; preserve a grove from the axe, 
 whose master was duped by the sharper ; 
 make one man forget his friends, and 
 another himself. It will purchase a good 
 benefice, and spoil a good preacher ; re- 
 move our present wants, and open a way 
 to greater. It will not, however, as Solo- 
 mon says of money, buy all things ; it 
 cannot furnish wisdom to line the inside 
 of a head, nor change one grey hair with- 
 out. A private sailor, belonging to a ship 
 which was paid off in 1782, having re- 
 ceived his arrears, threw two ten pound 
 bank notes into the sea, near Bristol, in 
 each of which he had wrapped a guinea 
 to make it sink. One of my friends had 
 this authentic history of the sailor's folly 
 from the captain himself, who, whilst they 
 were in conversation together, saw the 
 very man in the street at Bristol, ' John,' 
 says the captain, ' do you remember 
 
1419 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 2. 
 
 1420 
 
 making shipwreck of the bank notes, and 
 feeding the sea with guineas ? ' ' Yes, 
 sir.' — half ashamed. 'Did you ever re- 
 pent it?' 'I have since wanted the 
 money.' Perhaps without pity." 
 
 London Stone. 
 
 A few minutes' walk from the bank 
 took Mr. Hutton to London stone. He 
 says, " There are situations, justifiable in 
 themselves, in which a man may be 
 ashamed to be found. Every man acts 
 in private what he ridicules in public. 
 The error only consists in the discovery. 
 It is not possible for the antiquary to pass 
 by, unnoticed, so extraordinary an object 
 as London stone. It is not possible to 
 find out its precise meaning. The small 
 information received from history, and the 
 smaller from tradition, prove its great an- 
 tiquity. This curiosity is as little regarded 
 as known. The numerous crowd of pas- 
 sengers take less notice of this stone than 
 of those upon which they tread. My 
 enquiries were answered with a superci- 
 lious smile, and all the intelligence I 
 eould gain was, ' It is a place of rest for 
 the porter's burden.' I was utterly at a 
 loss, while I attentively examined this 
 antique, how to face that world who con- 
 sidered it beneath their notice; and, in- 
 stead of considering me in the same light, 
 which I wished, might ridicule me for 
 my attention. When a man looks ridi- 
 culous in his own eyes, it is no wonder 
 he looks so in those of others. This stone 
 appears of a marble texture ; near four 
 feet high, two broad, and one thick. An 
 ornament at the top is broken off. In the 
 front is an oval aperture, or recess, two 
 feet long, at the bottom of which is a 
 broken fragment, which has supported, 
 perhaps, an urn, or image, expressive of 
 the original design. Time seems to have 
 destroyed the lower part of the oval, and 
 
 art has supplied the place with a patch 
 
 One of the four Pretorian roads called 
 Watling-stree' rises near Dover, and pro- 
 ceeds north-west in a direct line to the 
 Irish sea, near Chester. I know no town 
 it originally passed through, except Lon- 
 don. 
 
 * Thilke way hy mony town doth wende,' 
 Robert of Gloucester. 
 
 and here it penetrated the very centre of 
 the city, as it then appeared : in this 
 street the stone stood, and now stands. 
 Part of the street retains its original name 
 
 of Watling-street ; another has acquired 
 the appellation of Cannon-street ; another 
 of East-cheap, &c. Thus the Romans 
 improved the city, caused their grand road 
 to pass through its centre, and placed 
 their golden stone in the road, from which 
 they took their measurements in every 
 direction. — When the famous Jack Cade 
 approached the city, in 1450, as he 
 marched by London stone, he struck it with 
 his sword, and exclaimed, Nim is Morti- 
 mer lord 6j this city : the only sentence 
 of intelligence that ever escaped him, and 
 seems to have been uttered in an eostacy 
 of joy at the prospect of success. This 
 circumstance, although forgotten by our 
 historians, is a convincing proof that Ri- 
 chard, duke of York, was the instigator of 
 that rebellion." 
 
 According to Mr. King, in his Monu- 
 menta Antiqua, this stone, preserved with 
 reverential care through so many ages, 
 and now having its top incased within 
 another stone, in Cannon-street, was 
 deemed a record of the highest antiquity, 
 of some still more important kind ; 
 though we are at present unacquainted 
 with the original intent and purport for 
 which it was placed. It is fixed, at pre- 
 sent, close under the south wall of St. 
 Swithin's church ; but was formerly a 
 little nearer the channel, facing the same 
 place ; which seems to prove its having 
 had some more ancient and peculiar de- 
 signation than that of having been a 
 Roman milliary ; even if it were ever 
 used for that purpose afterwards. It was 
 fixed deep in the ground, and is mention- 
 ed so early as the time of EthelstSn, king 
 of the west Saxons, without any particular 
 reference to ils having been considered as 
 a Roman milliary stone. Sir Christo- 
 pher Wren, in consequence of the depth 
 and largeness of its foundation, was con- 
 vmced that it must have been some more 
 considerable monument than a mere mil- 
 liary stone. In Pasquill and Marfarius, 
 1589, we read, " Set up this bill at Lon- 
 don stone. — Let it be doonee sollemnly, 
 with drom and trumpet, and looke you 
 advance my cuUours on the top of the 
 steeple right over against it." Also, " If 
 it please them these dark winter nights, 
 to sticke uppe their papers uppon London 
 stone." — Hence we gather that it was 
 customary to affix papers against this 
 stone, as an official place for public readr 
 
1431 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 3. 
 
 1432 
 
 December 2. — Day breaks . 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 
 5 54 
 7 57 
 4 3 
 
 6 6 
 
 Mamtttv 3. 
 
 The Boar's Head, Eastcheap. 
 
 Yesterday we left Mr Hutton at Lon- 
 don stone; to-day we will follow him 
 thence to the Boar's Head. He says, 
 " History informs us of the jovial life 
 Henry V. led with his companions, while 
 prince of Wales. Shakspeare justly places 
 the scene of action at the Blue Boar's 
 Head, in Eastcheap, and Goldsmith has 
 a whole essay on the subject. Perhaps 
 no character ever gave so much pleasure 
 to the world, as that extensive composi- 
 tion of sack, flesh, and wit, drawn by 
 Shakspeare, under the name of sir John 
 FalstafT. 't'bough -the sack and the flesh 
 are dead, the wit is consigned to immor- 
 tality by our bard ; and,"^ we are told, the 
 room, the seats, the chimney-piece, &c., 
 are the very same now, as when Hal and 
 Co. got drunk together. I could not 
 omit a sight of this remarkable place; 
 but, upon my approach to Eastcheap, 
 the inhabitants were fled, the house shut 
 tip, and instead of an half timber build- 
 ing, with one story projecting over the 
 other, as I expected, the edifice was mo- 
 dem, with a date in the front of 1668. 
 I immediately concluded the old house 
 was burnt down by the great fire, that 
 tradition and Goldsmith had misinformed 
 me, and that farther researches were vain. 
 On each side of the door-way is a vine- 
 branch, carved in wood, rising more than 
 three feet from the ground, loaded with 
 leaves and clusters ; and on the top of 
 each a little Falstaff, eight inches high, in 
 the dress of his day ; such as is seen at 
 Covent garden, by his faithful represent- 
 ative, Henderson. This induced me to 
 prosecute my enquiry. If I enter a 
 butcher's shop, he gives me a welcome 
 look. The sale of a joint of meat enters 
 the fine nerves of his brain, and the profit 
 enters his pocket; and all this is trans- 
 acted before I can open my mouth. But 
 when I ask a frivolous question, I imme- 
 diately turn a dead customer upon his 
 hands, and he turns sour upon mine. A 
 man is more or less acceptable, according 
 to the errand on which he comes. I soon 
 found I was the greatest piece of lumber 
 
 in his shop. There is such a thing as 
 imperceptibly worming a person into good 
 humour, unobserved by himself.-r-When 
 this was accomplished, he informed me 
 that the place was sold by auction, three 
 weeks before, at Garraway's coffee-house ; 
 that the purchaser was a stranger, and 
 had the keys; that a sight could not be 
 obtained ; and that if he was master of 
 the spot, he would directly chop off, as 
 ■useless trumpery, the vine branches that 
 sprouted from the door; that there was 
 nothing worth seeing within ; but that he 
 himself was possessed of a snuff box,, 
 the painting of which represented every 
 thing in the world. But as every thing 
 in the world was too much for one man 
 to see, and as I had never read that sir 
 John took snuffj I did not express a de- 
 sire to see it. There is a pleasure in 
 meeting with a person whose sentiments 
 coincide with one's own. It is a positive 
 proof we are not singular, and a presump- 
 tive one we Bre right. This was not my 
 lot. The taste of my friend, the butcher, 
 happening not to extend beyond the meat 
 in his shop. — I made many visits to the 
 Blue Boar's Head, and as many applica- 
 tions to the neighbours ; but there is no- 
 thing more difficult than to find out a 
 curiosity which depends iipon others, and 
 which nobody regards. With some trou- 
 ble I procured a sight of the back build- 
 ings. I found them in that ancient state, 
 which convinced me that tradition, Shak- 
 speare, and Goldsmith, were right ; and 
 could I have gained admission into the 
 premises of mine hostess, Mrs. Quickly, 
 I should certainly have drank a cup of 
 sack in memory of the bulky knight." 
 
 The Towee. — The Regalia. 
 We will follow Mr. Hutton to the 
 Tower. He calls it " The dread of- of- 
 fenders. The place which many wish to 
 see, but few to reside in. Here are sights 
 to gratify all, except him who has no 
 power to depart. A magazine of terror, 
 of riches, and of destruction." He says, 
 " I longed for a sight of this important 
 place in 1749, when I visited London, 
 but knew not how to obtain it. I there- 
 fore joined a youth, who told me he had 
 business in the tower, in hopes of gaining 
 admission under his wing; but my Derby- . 
 shire dialect quickly brought the warders 
 out of their lodge; who, on seeing the 
 dust abound on my shoes, wisely con- 
 eluded that money could not abound in 
 
1423 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 3. 
 
 1424 
 
 ir.y pocket, and, with the voice of au- 
 thority, ordered me back. Observing 
 vast quantities of cordage for shiipping, 
 lie in the open air, I expressed my sur- 
 prise that such valuable property, which 
 might bs suddenly wanted, should be 
 suffered to fall a prey to the weather ? It 
 is customary, says the warder, who con- 
 ducted me, for cordage to remain here 
 till rotten, when it is sold for a trifle, and 
 then the place is supplied with more,' 
 which quickly follows the same way. 
 
 Mr. Button's account of his seeing the 
 armoury is interesting ; but his sight of 
 the regalia is better. " My conductor 
 led me to a door in an obscure corner, 
 and rang a bell. After waiting a short 
 time, another door on our left flew open, 
 and we entered a dismal hole, resemblmg 
 the cell of the condemned. Two wretched 
 candles, just lighted up, added to the 
 gloom . By these dull tapers, which made 
 ' darkness visible,' the room appeared 
 about twelve feet square, divided m the 
 centre by iron pallisades, which extended 
 to the ceiling. The lady of this dark 
 mansion stood on one side, the warder 
 and I on the other. She opened a small 
 press, and in that tone of voice universally 
 adopted by raree showmen, observed, 
 ' This is the imperial crown of England, 
 with which all the kings have been crown- 
 ed, from Edward the confessor, in 1042'. 
 Permit me to take that important bauble 
 in my hand. It retains the same wonder- 
 ful powers as the chair in Westminster 
 Abbey. These two partners in royalty 
 inspire one with the same thoughts, 
 though their materials differ. They are 
 above the price of purchase, and are oidy 
 transferable by the sword. To possess 
 this crown, William the first overthrew a 
 mighty empire; Henry, his son, seized it 
 from the owner, who was his brother and 
 his sovereign, and kept him prisoner for 
 life. For this, Stephen broke his promises 
 and his oaths, and John murdered his 
 nephew. Henry IV. threw down the 
 mounds of justice, and opened a way to 
 destruction. It preserved the life of a 
 father, and occasioned the death of his 
 son ; the head of Henry V. would have 
 been cleft at Agincourt, if it had not been 
 covered with the crown; and his son, 
 Henry VI. was stabbed in the tower, by 
 Richard III., because he wore it. War- 
 wick sacrificed his all in trying to set it 
 upon the head of another, and Oliver, 
 upon his own. This shining trifle became 
 an issue of blood, in the contest between 
 the two houses of York and Lancaster, 
 
 which could not be stopped but for thirty 
 years, by which a hundred thousand peo- 
 ple lost their lives, and half the families 
 in the kingdom were ruined. It induced 
 Richard III. to murder his nephews 
 under this very roof; and Henry VII. to 
 stain his character with the death of Ed- 
 ward Plantagenet. It caused the suspi- 
 cious Elizabeth to cut off Mary, queen of 
 Scots. James I. was so dazzled with its 
 glory, that he verily thought all wisdom, 
 power, and excellence, shone in these 
 diamonds. It adhered so closely to the 
 head of Charles I., that, in trying to pre- 
 serve one, he lost both. This, Cromwell 
 valued more than his religion, and James 
 
 II. less. Nay, even Charles II., the most 
 sensible of his family, was much inclined 
 to think the crown could deprive every 
 man of liberty, but the wearer. William 
 
 III. declared he would not hold it by 
 apron-strings, and, to regain this lost 
 trifle, the unfortunate house of Stuart 
 struggled for three score years. — Here, 
 take again the object of ambition, and the 
 cause of butchery." After seeing other 
 portions of the coronation, he addressed 
 the attendant. " And am I debarred, 
 madam, entering your dark treasury, be- 
 cause squire Blood stole the crown in the 
 reign of Charles II.?" « Yes," Mr. HaU 
 ton, after having seen other valuables, 
 observed, " You seem possessed of variety 
 of antique plate, some in large dishes, in 
 the filligree taste." "Yes, sir, but I do 
 not know their history." "And pray what 
 may be the value of your curious little 
 toy-shop?" "About six millions." — "The 
 warder bowed, which simply meant, we 
 have done. I told him there were many 
 things I wished to see, such as the chapel, 
 where lay interred some eminent persons 
 I named, who had fallen on tower-hill. 
 The altar, from whence Simon Sudbury, 
 archbishop of Canterbury, was torn by the 
 multitude, under Wat Tyler, who dragged 
 him to tower-hill, where they Kacked off 
 his head at eight strokes. "The prisons, 
 where some great characters I mentioned 
 had been confined ; and the White Tower, 
 which contained a vast number of curios- 
 ities. He answered ' admission cannot 
 be obtained.' He took me, however, into 
 two or three rooms, in the warder's apart- 
 ments, in which some persons had been 
 confined ; but they were not of eminence 
 sufficient to excite notice. At my depar- 
 ture the warders desired me to enter ray 
 name, and place of abode, in their lodge- 
 book, for which they produced an order 
 of the mrlieutenant." 
 
1425 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— DECEMBER 3, 
 
 1426 
 
 OLD CHAPEL, WHITTLESFORD BRIDGE, CAMBRIDGESHIRE 
 
 A Visit to Whittlesford Bridge. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 When business from day to day, and 
 from week to week, affords but few op- 
 portunities to leave home, and an oppor- 
 tunity does come, what imaginings of 
 pleasure crowd our fancy ere we start for 
 a day's holiday. 
 
 In the autumn of the year, my young 
 friend S. T. and I joyfully wended our 
 way by "babbling brooks," over green 
 hills and valleys, where far-spreading 
 groves and luxuriant corn-fields spread 
 pleasant prospects, until we reached 
 Whittlesford-bridge, where the turnpike- 
 house, and another make, 
 
 A homely picture of a place. 
 
 Where rustic labour plies its honest toil. 
 
 And gains a competence. 
 
 The bridge is a neat structure of red 
 brick, bestriding a. branch of the classic 
 Cam, which 'rises in Essex, and feeds 
 several oil, paper, and flour mills, erected 
 on its line to Cambridge, near which 
 place it unites with a stream which rises 
 near Ashwell in Hertfordshire. About a 
 uriong west from the bridge, to the left 
 'tf the road, stands a publiC'house, 
 
 " Where tne Red Lion staring o'er the way. 
 Invites each passing stranger that can pay." 
 
 iTiis " house of entertainment," though 
 it stands in the parish of Duxford St. 
 John, takes its name from its contiguity 
 to " Whittlesford-bridge," and presents 
 for a sign a striking likeness of a red lion 
 (rampant,) bearing date 
 
 17 H. T. 63. 
 The initials H. T. we were informed were 
 those of the late landlord, "Hamond 
 Turtle," which, if I may be allowed a 
 pun, seemed to, bespeak the accommoda- 
 tion the house afforded — ham and turtle. 
 
 To pun is human j to forgive it — -fine ! 
 
 Over the door we found the name of the 
 present landlord, "Thomas Holiday;" 
 the surname seeming so very appropriate 
 to our holiday, and the w ords that follow it, 
 "good accommodation," were so inviting, 
 that we instantly entered. We were shown 
 into the best parlour, and, calling for a 
 glass of " the best" to nourish our hearts, 
 "mine host" made his appearance, who 
 seemed, to use the words of old Spensei, 
 
 A franklin faire and free, 
 
 Tl>at entertains vUh comely courteous glcs. 
 
1427 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 3 
 
 1423 
 
 We examined him upon interrogatories^ 
 and he good-naturedly told us all he had 
 heard about the antiquity of the place. He 
 informed us that a few years back, when 
 making sqme alterations, a stone was dis- 
 covered bearing date A. D. 1006.* We 
 visited the right hand room, where the 
 every-day guests are entertained, in the 
 centre of which stands a large oak table, 
 black with age, and most curiously carved 
 with " cunning workmanship." Our 
 host assured us it was formerly the com- 
 munion table belonging to " the chapel." 
 Of course we endeavoured to believe 
 him, and were next directed to view the 
 ceiling of this room, the beams of which 
 are composed of massive oak, nearly the 
 color of ebony, and beautifully carved and 
 adorned. The door of this room is of the 
 same material, and thickly studded with 
 nails. "This door," said mine host, 
 " belonged to the chapel ;" we could not 
 negative the assertion — so let that pass. 
 Having heard of "the king's room," we 
 naturally wished to see it, and my young 
 friend S. T. just popped the question to 
 " the maid of the inn ; " she told us that 
 room was up stairs, but " the lady of the 
 bar " was not at home, and we were 
 forced to depart without a peep at the 
 royal chamber. At the back of the house 
 is a kind of rude arcade, leading from the 
 old room and the best parlor to the 
 cellars. My friend was seized with a 
 sudden frenzy for exploring, and we de- 
 scended into the place of spirits, but saw 
 no beckoning ghost to tell of by-gone 
 days and departed beings. Strength and 
 durability were manifested by thick walls, 
 and roofs of ponderous oak, embellished 
 with carved foliage, similar to the ceiling 
 in the drinking-room. Ascending to the 
 yard, I 'ooked for the old font, which I 
 reraembei' to have seen placed by the 
 pump, when I "went with my satchel to 
 school." It was gone, but fragments of 
 some carved stones lying in the yard were 
 in all probability the remains of it. We 
 now bent our way to "the chapel," a 
 sketch of which has been since kindly 
 presented to me by a gentleman who has 
 "an eye for the picturesque." It has 
 never been engraved, but I hope that 
 favor may be bestowed on it for the Year 
 Book. The chapel is an old edifice 
 despoiled by Time, who has journeyed 
 on without leaving any record, save oral 
 
 * [A date not to be doubted of in the pre- 
 sence of the landlord. — W. H.] 
 
 (that I know of) of what it was. Its form 
 is an oblong square, sixty-one feet in 
 length, and sixteen feet wide, supported 
 by piers or abutments. It apears to have 
 once possessed a neatness and simplicity 
 becoming 
 
 " a place chann'd from the power of ill. 
 
 By sainted words of old : — so lovely, lone, and 
 
 still." 
 
 The basement of the building is partly 
 composed of pebbles and stone : the roof 
 is thatched, and now used as a barn ; and 
 through a gable or porch near the west 
 end is the entrance for waggons and carts. 
 It was just then filled with corn from the 
 field, and we expressed disappointment 
 at not being able to see much of the in- 
 terior, but our host of the red lion said 
 with a smile, " it was never filled better." 
 I remember to have seen niches in the 
 side walls near the east end, and the ap- 
 pearance then was better than might be 
 expected from the dilapidated state of the 
 exterior; but whether this ancient relic 
 y/as " the school of divine philosophy, 
 the residence of virtue, the abode of 
 chastity " is to me unknown : yet 
 
 " La sainte recurilment la paisible innocence 
 Sembler de ces lieus habiter le silence." 
 
 The west end is bricked up entirely, and 
 sippears of no very ancient date; and, 
 from a foundation which was discovered 
 some years ago, it may be presumed the 
 chapt once joined the house, which was 
 probably the refectory. I said as much 
 to our landlord of the red lion, and he 
 replied " Certainly ! I have no doubt 
 about it." The north and south side 
 have each three corresponding windows ; 
 at the east end was a large window 
 vaulted with stone, but the spandrils and 
 muUions are destroyed, and the whole is 
 blocked up. A little paddock at the east 
 end of the chapel, now used as a drove 
 for cattle, is supposed to have been the 
 ancient burial place, as many human 
 bones have from time to time been there 
 dug up, the remains perhaps of devotees, 
 of whom there is no other vestige, and 
 certainly no " storied urn," no mural 
 tablet, or memorial dear, 
 *' To implore the passing tribute of a sigh.'' 
 
 Since writing the foregoing, a friend 
 informs me this religious house was for- 
 merly under the government of a prior,sub- 
 ject to the bishops of Ely, and that it pos- 
 sessed an estate of upwards of thirty acres 
 of land, and the water-mill at Duxford, 
 
1429 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 4. 
 
 1430 
 
 besides the right of holding a fair, which 
 was kept in the reign of Edward I. The 
 property now belongs to lord Earnboroiigh, 
 and is situate about nine miles from 
 Cambridge, ou the high road leading 
 from Royston to Bournbridge, and one 
 mile north-east from Duxford. 
 
 T.N. 
 
 . h. m. 
 
 December 3. — Day breaks . . 5 54 
 Sun rises ... 7 58 
 — sets ... 4 2 
 Twilight ends • 6 6 
 
 December 4, 1820, Mr. Samuel Rous- 
 seau died in distressed circumstances. 
 He had served an apprenticeship in the 
 ofBce of Mr. John Nichols, the printSr, 
 where he .taught himself several ori- 
 ental languages, and acquired much 
 learned knowledge. After going into 
 business on his own account, he printed a 
 " Dictionary of Mohammedan laws, Ben- 
 gal revenue terms, Shanscrit, Hindoo, and 
 other words used in the East Indies, 
 compiled by himself," with other works 
 on oriental literature of his own produc- 
 tion. His researches distracted his at- 
 tention from the " mdn chance : " he 
 lost it too late in life to regain it; suf- 
 fered much mental affliction under great 
 privations ; and perished in obscurity 
 from want. 
 
 The Lonely Funeral. 
 By Thomas Atkinson of Glasgow. 
 'Twas at the sullen gloamin' 
 
 Of a brief and wintry day, 
 I saw a woman coming. 
 
 As from a weary way. 
 
 And heavily she moved along 
 
 The thickly mired street. 
 And there seemed none among the throng 
 
 The way-farer to greet ! 
 A tattered cloak hung o'er her. 
 
 So thin you might see through. 
 Yet more wan and thin, and poorer. 
 
 Were the features no one knew ! 
 Yet, perhaps, she had been fair to see. 
 
 At least she had been glad. 
 And had won the smile of courtesy. 
 
 Yet now was scarcely clad ! 
 
 A little boy did grasp the rags. 
 
 So like unto his own. 
 To keep him on the slippery flags. 
 
 While heedless men pushed ou. 
 
 And aye uj) to his mother's brow. 
 O'er which a rcmnnnt hung. 
 
 That told he was an orphan now. 
 
 He turned him as he clung ; 
 And sobbed in cold and wearmess ; 
 
 And I heard him"weeping say. 
 With an old-aged voice of dreariness, 
 
 " Is it. Mammy, far away 1 " 
 
 1 knew not what the question meant, 
 
 •But afterwards I found, 
 'Twas one with a deep interest in't 
 
 To every thing around ! 
 
 Tl e wearied widow then did stoop. 
 And panting raised her knee. 
 
 On which, beneath her thin cloak's droop, 
 A burden she leant heavily. 
 
 " O ! Mafomy, let me carry her. 
 
 As I was used to do !" 
 Why did not I then tarry here 
 
 I mourn — but never knew. 
 
 For, hastening on, 'twas not till night 
 
 Had almost hid the sky. 
 That, as the church-yard warders Ugh 
 
 1 hurriedly passed by, 
 
 I saw, by its cold lonely beam, 
 
 A shivering woman stand. 
 And — it came o'er me like a dream — 
 
 The boy was in her hand. 
 
 The very boy that I had heard 
 That question ask, which may — 
 
 Which must — by you and I preferred. 
 Find answer some sad day, 
 
 " Is't far away ?" — 'Twas then the grave. 
 
 So soon he sought if near, 
 Is't far away — O ! who so brave 
 
 May ask without a fear 1 
 
 And there the mother, wan and wild 
 
 Her cloak the only pall ! 
 Had borne alone the coffined child. 
 
 Beside the boy — her all ! 
 
 No funeral train of cake-fed guests. 
 
 No hireling mourners near ; 
 Alone the widow kneeling rests 
 
 Above the little bier ! 
 And waits till o'er the hallowed ground 
 
 Is heard the watchman's tread ; 
 She would not that her babe were found 
 
 But with the untouched dead ! 
 
 It iff not " pomp " alone that needs 
 
 To know what wretches know ; 
 Our fellow ranks, how oft their deeds. 
 
 A heart of iron show. 
 Else had not this poor lonely one 
 
 A second travail known. 
 For that she bore to life— and'borne 
 
 Her to the grave alone ! 
 
 h. m. 
 
 December 4. — Daybreaks . . 5 55 
 
 Sun rises ... 7 55 
 
 — sets .•■.41 
 Twilight ends . 6 5 
 
tl31 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 5. 
 
 1432 
 
 Bectmttv 5. 
 
 Advent in Normahdy. 
 
 A very singular spectacle presents it- 
 self to the stranger who, unacquainted 
 with the customs of the country, finds 
 himself alone, among the corn fields and 
 pastures of the department of the Eure- 
 et-Loire. On every side he can discover 
 nothing but fire and flames running over 
 the fields, and every now and then he 
 hears a certain shrill but modulated noise. 
 This phantasmagoria, which at first aston- 
 ishes and even alarms him, arises from 
 the practice of a very ancient custom, 
 still in use in this country, and in certain 
 cantons of Normandy. Every farmer 
 fixes upon some day in advent for the 
 purpose of exorcising such animals as 
 prove injurious to his crops, and for this 
 purpose he furnishes his youngest child- 
 ren with a prepared flambeaux, well 
 dried in the oven, and provided with 
 combustible materials. If he have no 
 children his neighbours lend him theirs, 
 for none but young and innocent children 
 can command certain injurious animals to 
 withdraw from his lands. After twelve 
 years of age children are rendered unfit 
 to perform the oflice of exorcists. These 
 young children run over the country like 
 so many little spirits, set fire to bundles 
 of hay placed there for the purpose, go 
 under the trees, and flourish their torches 
 among the branches, burn the straw 
 placed underneath, and continually cry 
 out — 
 
 Taupes, cherrilles, et mnlots, 
 Sortez, sortez, de mon clas, 
 Ouje voos brule la barbe et les os. 
 
 Arbres^ arbrisseaux, 
 Bonnez-moi des pomes a miriot. 
 
 " Mice, caterpillars, and moles, get 
 out, get out of my field ; I will burn your 
 beard and your bones : trees and shrubs 
 give me three bushels of apples." 
 
 Many farmers, says M. Cochin, have 
 given up this custom; but it is remarked 
 that they have more vermin in their 
 ground than those who follow it. The 
 reason, however, is evident ; it is quite 
 true that fire and smoke will destroy the 
 eggs of the caterpillar ; but as to the 
 mice and moles, I must confess, says M. 
 Cochin, I have discovered no convincing 
 proof of the power of our young exor- 
 cists; the good people of the country, 
 however, believe the remedy infallible, 
 and this must surely satisfy the most in- 
 credulous ! Many accidents might be 
 
 supposed to arise from this lawless 
 assembly of juvenile torch-bearers, scat- 
 terijg their flames around them on every 
 side; but there is a remedy for all dan- 
 gers ; this fire never burns or injures any 
 thing but the vermin against which it is 
 directed : — such, at least, is the belief of 
 the simple folks who inhabit the depart- 
 ment of the Eure-et-Loire.* 
 
 Unheard of Curiosities. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 Jane 2, 1831. 
 
 The following are a few more extracts 
 from the old book which I quoted at p. 
 491 of the Year Book. 
 
 The eyes and the heart of a nightingale 
 la,id about men in Ced keep them awake. 
 To make one die for sleep — if any 
 one dissolve them, and give them secretly 
 to any one in drink, he will never sleep, 
 but will so die, and it admits not of cure. 
 If you sew a little of the bones of the fish 
 Remora in a horse's hide, and have it 
 with you when you take shipping, the 
 ship will not budge in the water at hoist- 
 ing sail, unless what is put there be taken 
 away, or you go out of the ship. The 
 origin of quails here following is curious : 
 a quail is a bird known to all, yet its na- 
 ture is not easily known ; for there is one 
 thing concerning this unknown. For, 
 when there are great storms upon the 
 coasts of Lybia Deserta, the sea casts up 
 great tunnies upon the shore, and these 
 breed worms for fourteen dayes, and 
 grow to be as big as flies, then as locusts, 
 which, being augmented in bigness, be- 
 come birds, called quails. For illusion ; 
 dissolve the eyes of a quail, or of the sea- 
 tench, with a little water in a glass vessel 
 for seven dayes, then add a little oyl : 
 put a little of this in the candle, or only 
 anoint a rag, and light among the com- 
 pany, and they will look upon themselves 
 like devils on fire, so that every one will 
 run his way. In the sardonyx stone en- 
 grave a quail, and under its feet a sea- 
 tench, and put a little of the aforesaid 
 confection under the stone in the bollow 
 of the ring; and, when you are willing 
 to be seen^ anoint your face all over with 
 the aforesaid confection, and wear the 
 ring, and no man shall see you if you do 
 any thing in the house, no, not if you 
 should take any thing away that is in the 
 house. The following receipt is one of 
 
 * Time's Telescope, 1838. 
 
1433 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK. DECEMBER fl 
 
 1434 
 
 the most curious in the book: — "If one 
 put the head of a fresh herring upon the 
 coals to fumigate, and he get upon the 
 house in the night, he will think that all 
 the stars run into one. And if any one at 
 the full moon shall put the head into a 
 dry fig, and shall lay it on the fire when 
 the uir. is still, Ae will see the orb of the 
 moon OS big as half of heaven. And if 
 you powder the stone pyrites, and in like 
 manner lay i» on, there will be thunder 
 and lightning. And if you also lay on 
 earth, which fell from an house upon a 
 man, there will be an earthquake in the 
 place. If one make a dry powder of the 
 skin of a crocodiW burnt, and shall strew 
 it upon a limb that is to be cut or burnt, 
 whatever is to be cut or burnt, it will be 
 without pain. If any one stab a croco- 
 dile, and anoint himself with it, whatso- 
 ever wounds or blows he receives, he will 
 not at all feel them. A wolf's a savage 
 crafty animal ; if any one, therefore, drink 
 bis blood, he will go mad, and can never 
 more be cured; its right eye carried privately 
 about one performs great things, for all 
 four-fouted creatures, wild and tame, will 
 fly from the bearer; and he will pass 
 through the midst of his enemies, and no 
 man will touch him. It also enables a 
 man to conquer in every cause; it puts 
 away all phantoms ; it also expels all fits 
 of agues ; and a sheep will never tread upon 
 the skin of a wolf. Also the eye of a 
 wolf, and the first joint of his tail, carried 
 in a golden vessel, will make the bearer 
 powerful, and glorious, and honourable, 
 and rich, and acceptable." 
 
 In the Old Testament Apochrypha, in 
 the sixth chapter of the book of Tobit, is 
 an account of the virtues of a fish used 
 medicinally as a cure for the eyes ; now 
 Kirani so far explains the Apochrypha 
 as to tell us, the heart, the liver, and the 
 gall, of what fish it is that does these 
 things, which, by perusing the annexed 
 receipts, will be found to have been a 
 bass. The following are the ingredients 
 used in preparing it : — Lingurius is a 
 stone about the hills Lingui, thence 
 so called ; but some say it is the gum of 
 the poplar tree. Lynx is a bird which 
 is called gyps or a vulture. Labrax is a 
 sea-fish, called a bass, known to all. Of 
 these a soft eye-salve is made for all dim- 
 ness of the eyes, so that in three days it 
 makes the sight sharp. It is good for 
 the beginning of a suffusion, a cataract, 
 turning back of the eyelid, roughness, di- 
 lation of the pupilla, owl-sightedness, 
 
 watriness, itching, Iriness, falling away 
 of the hairs of the eye^lids, eating away 
 of the corners of the eyes, and for many 
 other diseases. Anointing with it is excel- 
 lent good for all these things, and this is 
 the confection of it: — Of olibanum four 
 oz., lapis lingurius two oz., vulture's gall 
 four oz., liver of a bass three oz., the 
 best honey six oz., when this is old, it is 
 better. But Kirani's eye-salve was thus : 
 of olibanum six oz., gall of a bass, gall of 
 a vulture, each six oz., pepper three oz., 
 -honey without dross three oz. 
 
 With the following clear description of 
 a charm I shall conclude my extracts. 
 Ydros is a water snake, living much 
 in the fields, and frequently swimming 
 upon the water in ponds, erecting its 
 breast; this has a stone in its head.; if 
 any catch the serpent alive, he will. find 
 the stone, if he charm it, it will vomit 
 up the stone. Hang up, I say, the ser- 
 pent alive, and suffumigate it with laurel, 
 conjuring it in this manner. By him who 
 created thee, to whom that cloven tongue 
 of thine does often devoutly pray, if thou 
 wilt give me the stone I will not hnrt 
 thee, yea, I will let thee go home again 
 to thy friends. And after it has vomited 
 up the stone, gather it in a clean silken 
 mantle, and keep it; for it will cure the 
 dropsy by tying it about the person 
 afflicted with it, decreasing the water 
 every day a quart, till all is gone ; then 
 take it away, or it will dry up the natural 
 moisture, such power has it. 
 
 Happening to have your "Ancient Mys- 
 teries Dsecribed," on reading a passage 
 in the festival of fools, giving a description 
 of the fool's girdle, and comparing it with 
 the description of the girdle of Venus, of 
 which a full account is given in this book, 
 I was struck by a similarity in many 
 particulars of each, and I am of opinion 
 that the fool's girdle was a parody on 
 Venus's girdle. 
 
 I am, &c., 
 F. W. Fairholt. 
 
 
 h. m 
 
 December 5. — Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 56 
 
 Sun rtseses . 
 
 . 8 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 4 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 4 
 
 Bectmfsev 6. 
 
 Coronation Stone. 
 
 Mr. Hutton says, " On Monday,. De- 
 cember 6, 1711, I made a tour through 
 
1435 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 6. 
 
 1436 
 
 Westminster abbey." He notices " The 
 two ambassadors, whose remains were 
 arrested for debt, lie in one of the chapels 
 on the floor, in ragged and dirty coffins. 
 They found a place in this temple of 
 fame by cheating the world. — Entaring 
 the eastern part of the abbey, a person, 
 who, like Matthew, sat at the receipt of 
 custom, demanded sixpence. Three or 
 four strangers entering at that instant, he 
 led us the same round, with the same set 
 of words and tone of voice that serve for 
 every day in the year. We came out 
 together, but with different sensations ; 
 their appetites seemed satisfied ; mine, 
 from a taste, was become keener. I re- 
 peated the moderate fee, and observed to 
 our conductor, I would take a second 
 view without troubling him ; and wished 
 to be left to my own reflections. He 
 willingly consented. I returned to the 
 dead with that relish with which a man, 
 recovering from sickness, returns to the 
 living." For his. remarks on the tombs, 
 and especially the wax-work figures of 
 deceased princes, there is not room in 
 this place. After observing upon the 
 effigy of Edward, duke of Buckingham, 
 who died at Rome, in 1735, at the age of 
 nineteen, he says, — " Three or four feet 
 on the duke's right, stands a plain wooden 
 two-armed chair. None of the furniture 
 in this room is less than four or five hun- 
 dred years old, except the duke, and this 
 chair. The latter was made for the coro- 
 nation of Mary II., wife of king William, in 
 1688. Near this chair stands the king's, 
 in which all the English sovereigns have 
 bf en crowned since Edward the confessor; 
 Thereappeared no difference between them, 
 but age. The antiquary, who values mo- 
 dern cash less than ancient timber, would 
 give five hundred guineas for this vener- 
 able piece of lumber, which has supported 
 the British crown, in its highest lustre, 
 during seven hundred years ; but, under 
 Christie's hammer, at a common auction, 
 it would not bring more than eighteen 
 pence. Upon the frame of the royal 
 chair, under the seat, lies the famous 
 coronation stone, brought from Scone j 
 which a Scot, with a serious face, will tell 
 us, was Jacob's pillow, on which he lay 
 all night in the open field, at Bethel. 
 When authors disagree about a piece of 
 antiquity, it is no wonder it shoots into 
 fable. Upon this sacred stone, however, 
 all the kings of Scotland were crowned, 
 for more than a thousand years. Its being 
 hard and cold might very well suit the 
 
 brawny posteriors of a northern monarch ; 
 but modern luxury, as if to avoid these 
 two insupportable evils, has placed it a 
 foot below the seat, to make way for the 
 velvet cushion. This curious stone, 
 which possesses the same bewitching 
 powers as the chair on which it lies, is 
 called, by some writers, the royal throne 
 of Scotland. Patten calls it a marble 
 chair. The form, if it would bear the 
 name, is flattish, about two feet long, one 
 broad, and six inches thick. But it is 
 without form or comeliness ; is jagged in 
 every direction, as if broken; is of a 
 darkish color, as every stone must be 
 which has lain five hundred years in the 
 smoke of London ; is near one hundred 
 weight ; and is much like the stones we 
 often see in a rocky field. As the English 
 and theWelsh had cut one another's throats 
 for thirteen hundred years, Edward I. 
 wished to promote a union by incorporat- 
 ing them into one people, which he wisely 
 effected. The last peaceable five hundred 
 years has proved the utility of the mea- 
 sure. The animosity between England 
 and Scotland, and their dreadful devast- 
 ations, which had continued a much 
 longer space, excited the same wish, but 
 the means to accomplish it " were not 
 quite so prudent. Even the man without 
 knowledge, and without reading, will dis- 
 cover this animosity, by seeing Severus's, 
 or Adrian's wall, or by only hearing the 
 old song of Chevy chase. — AH wise poli- 
 ticians, who mean to reduce a country, 
 begin with sowing dissentions. A nation 
 firmly united is not easily reduced j but 
 we have long been told, when divided 
 against itself it cannot stand. — Edward, 
 under the idea of assisting one of the 
 parties, carried his victorious arms twice 
 through Scotland, and reduced it to the 
 utmost distress. In one of these excur- 
 sions he seized the whole regalia, of 
 great value, and brought it with him to 
 London. As Edward the confessor's 
 tomb was in high repute, and as it was the 
 practice of that day to make costly offer- 
 ings at his shrine, Edward offered at this 
 altar the whole regalia of Scotland. Every 
 thing of value has been long since carried 
 away, as would the stone, had it been 
 silver. Its base materials protect it." 
 
 The famous stone of Scone, though 
 now removed to Westminster, and in- 
 closed in a chair of wood, on which the 
 kings of England and Scotland are still 
 
i43r 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK —DECEMBER 7. 
 
 1438 
 
 crowned, is well known to have been an 
 ancient stone of record, and most solemn 
 designation, long before it was first placed 
 at Scone. Buchanan affirms that it for- 
 merly stood in Argylshire ; and that king 
 Kenneth, in the ninth century, transferred 
 it from thence to Scone, and inclosed it 
 in a wooden chair. It was believed by 
 some to have been that which Jacob used 
 for a pillow, and to have travelled into 
 Scotland from Ireland, and from Spain. . 
 But, whatever may be thought of such a 
 tradition, it is clear that before the time 
 of Kenneth, that is, before the year 834, 
 it had been placed simply and plainly, as 
 a stone of great import, and of great no- 
 toriety, in Argyleshire ; and, on account 
 of the reverence paid to it, was removed 
 by Kenneth. A curious investigation of 
 the history of the coronation stone may 
 be seen in the Gentleman's Magazine, 
 vols. li. and lii. 
 
 Perforated Stones. 
 
 Creeping through Tolmen, or perforated 
 stones, was a druidical ceremony, and is 
 practised in the East Indies. Barlase 
 mentions a stone in the parish of Mars- 
 den, Cornwall, through which many per- 
 sons have crept for pains in their backs 
 and limbs ; and many children have been 
 drawn for the rickets. He adds that two 
 brass pins were carefully laid across each 
 other on the top edge of this stone, for 
 oracular purposes. 
 
 Sleeping on Stones. 
 
 Borlase, in his Antiquities of Cornwall, 
 
 mentions, as a relic of druid fancies and 
 
 incantations, the custom of sleeping on 
 
 ' stones, on a particular night, in order to 
 
 be cured of lameness. 
 
 
 h, m. 
 
 December 6,— Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 56 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 8 1 
 
 — sets • . 
 
 . 3 59 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 4 
 
 meumttv 7. 
 
 British Museum 
 
 On the Tth of December 1784, Mr. 
 
 Button's country -like visit to the British 
 
 Museum was charactericed by a different 
 
 mode of reception than prevails at present. 
 
 He says, "The British Museum justly 
 stands in the first class of rarities. I was 
 unwilling to quit London, without seeing 
 what I had many years wished to see, but 
 how to accomplish it was the question; 
 I had not one relation in that vast me- 
 tropolis to direct me, and only one ac- 
 quaintance ; but assistance was not 
 with him. I was given .to understand, 
 that the door, contrary to other doors, 
 would mot open with a silver key ; that 
 interest must be made some time before, 
 and admission granted by a ticket, on a 
 Juture day. This mode seemed totally to 
 exclude me. As I did not know a right 
 way, I was determined to pursue a wrong, 
 which probably might lead me into a 
 right. Assiduity will accomplish weighty 
 matters, or how could Obadiah Roberts 
 count the grains in a bushel of wheat ? 
 By good fortune I stumbled upon a per- 
 son possessed of a ticket for the next 
 day, which he valued less than two shil- 
 lings, we struck a bargain in a moment, 
 and were both pleased. And now I 
 feasted upon my future felicity. I was 
 uot likely to forget Tuesday at eleven, 
 December 7, 1784. We assembled on 
 the spot, about ten in number, all strangers 
 to me, perhaps, to each other. We began 
 to move pretty fast, when I asked with 
 some surprise, whether there were none 
 to inform us what the curiosities were as 
 we went on ? A tall genteel young man 
 in person, who seemed to be our con- 
 ductor, replied with some warmth, ' What 
 would you have me tell you every thing 
 in the Museum ? How is it possible ? 
 Besides, are not the names written upon 
 many of them ? ' I was too much hum- 
 bled by this reply to utter another word. 
 The company seemed influenced ; they 
 made haste and were silent. No voice 
 was heard but in whispers. The history 
 and the object must go together, if one 
 is wanting, the other is of little value. 
 I considered myself in the midst of a 
 rich entertainment, consisting of ten 
 thousand rarities, but, like Tantalus, I 
 could not taste one. It grieved me to 
 think how much I lost for want of a little 
 information. In about thirty minutes we 
 finished our silent journey through this 
 princely mansion, which would well have 
 taken thirty days. I went out much 
 about as wise as I went in, but with this 
 severe reflection, that for fear of losing 
 my chance, I had that morning abruptly 
 torn myself from three gentlemen, with 
 whom I was engaged in an interesting 
 
1439 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 7. 
 
 1440 
 
 conversation, had lost my breakfast, got 
 wet to the skin, spent half a crown in 
 coach-hire, paid two shillings for a ticket, 
 been hackneyed through the rooms with 
 violence, had lost the little share of good 
 humor I brought in, and came away 
 quite disappointed. — Hope is the most 
 active of all the human passions. It is 
 the most delusive. I had laid move stress 
 on the British Museum, than on any thing 
 I should see in London. It was the only 
 sight that disgusted me. — In my visit to 
 Don Saltern's curiosities at Chelsea, they 
 furnished me with a book, cxplainiijg 
 every article in the collection. Here I 
 could take my own time and entertain 
 myself." 
 
 Love Charms. / 
 
 Theocritus and Virgil both introduce 
 women into their pastorals, using charms 
 and incantations to recover the affections 
 of their sweethearts. . . Shakspeare re- 
 presents Othello as accused of winning 
 Desd«raona " by conjuration and mighty 
 magic." — 
 
 Thou has practised on her with foul charms ; 
 Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs or 
 
 minerals 
 That waken motion. 
 
 She is abus'd, stol'n from me, and corrupted 
 By spells and medicines bought of mounte- 
 banks. 
 
 In Gay's Shepherd's Week, these are 
 represented as country practices. 
 Strait to the 'pothecary's shop I went. 
 And in love-powder all my money spent, 
 Behap what will, next Sunday after prayers. 
 When to the ale-house Lubberkin repairs. 
 These golden flies into his mug I'll throw, 
 And soon the swain with fervent love shall 
 glow. 
 
 In Love Melancholy, by Dr. Ferrand, 
 8vo., Oxford, 1640, it is said, " We have 
 sometimes among our silly wenches, some 
 that out of a foolish curiosity they have, 
 must needs be putting in practice some 
 of those feats that they have received by 
 tradition from their mother, perhaps, or 
 nurse, and so, not thinking forsooth to doe 
 any harme, as they hope, they paganize it 
 to their own damnation. For it is most 
 " certain that botanomancy, which is done 
 by the noise or crackling that kneeholme, 
 box, or bay-leaves make when they are 
 crushed betwixt one's hands, or cast into 
 the fire, was of old in use among 
 the Pagans, who were wont to bruise 
 poppy-flowers betwixt their hands, by 
 this meanes thinking to know their loves : 
 
 and for this cause Theocritus cals this 
 hearb TiiXtpiXov, quasi AijXi^iXov, as if 
 we should say tel-love." Speaking of 
 the ancient love-charmes, characters, amu- 
 lets, or such like periapses. Dr. Ferrand 
 says, they are " such as no christian 
 physician ought to use : notwithstanding 
 that the common people do to this day 
 too superstitiously believe and put in 
 practice many of these paganish devices." 
 
 Miss Blandy, vvho was executed many 
 years ago for poisoning her father, per- 
 sisted in affirming that she thought the 
 powder which her villainous lover, 
 Cranston, sent her to administer to him, 
 was a '' love-powder," which was to con- 
 ciliate her father's affection to the captain. 
 She met her death with this asseveration ; 
 and her dying request, to be. buried close 
 to her father, sepms a corroborating proof 
 that though she was certainly the cause 
 of his premature death, yet she was not, 
 in the blackest sense of the word, his 
 wilful murderer. 
 
 In " The Comical Pilgrim's Pilgrimage 
 into Ireland," 8vo. 1723, we read : "They 
 often use Philtres." 
 
 The following is found in Herrick's 
 Hesperides, 
 
 A charm or an allay for love. 
 
 If so be a toad be laid 
 
 In a sheep-skin newly flaid. 
 
 And that ty'd to man 'twill sever 
 
 Him and his affections ever. 
 
 Sitting Cross Legged. 
 Sir Thomas Browne tells us, that to sit 
 cross-legged, or with our fingers pectin- 
 ated or shut together, is accounted bad, 
 and frierids will dissuade us from it. 
 The same conceit religiously possessed 
 the ancients ; but Mr. Park says, " To 
 sit cross-legged I have always understood ' 
 was intended to produce good or fortunate 
 consequences. Hence it was employed as 
 a charm at school, by one boy who wished 
 well for another, in order to deprecate 
 some punishment which both might trem- 
 ble to have incurred the expectation of. 
 At a card-table I have also caught some 
 superstitious players sitting cross-legged 
 with a view of bringing good luck."* 
 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 December 7.- 
 
 - Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 67 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 8 2 
 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 3 58 
 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 3 
 
 * Brand. 
 
1441 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 8. 
 
 1442 
 
 S-^Sal^! 
 
 VIGNETTE UPON AN ARTIST'S CARD. 
 
 I hope I have a due sense of the im- 
 portance of historical painting — for I 
 am told it isi the highest class of the art — 
 yet, I never saw an historical picture, that 
 I could V alk away from, and say it was 
 ■wholly satisfactory as a subject, and per- 
 fectly well executed. Our first-rate pic- 
 tures are designed to illustrate scripture, 
 hut they never rise to my notion of the 
 scenes and characters they represent. The 
 highest attempt of that kind which I 
 know of is Jacob's dream by Rembrandt. 
 That effort of the art I feel more than 
 any other; and next to it, perhaps, 
 the Adoration by the same artist, who 
 imparts to the virgin, uncomely though 
 she be, a mysterious veneration for her 
 new-born child, unequalled by other 
 masters. Still these are only endeavours 
 towards effects upon the mind, which fall 
 infinitely below our affections upon reading 
 the brief account of the patriarch's vision, 
 and the simple narrative of the country 
 people's devotion. Painting is incom- 
 petent to pourtray llim who spake as 
 never man spake ; and hence every canvas 
 on which He appearsj fails in the, chief 
 personage. 
 46. 
 
 Pictures of events in ancient or mo- 
 dern history are the most esteemed by 
 persons attached to the business and 
 hurries of life; while a contemplative 
 and reflective mind is better pleased with a 
 picture of children; such as that, for 
 instance, by Titian, in a small room at 
 Knowle. Children are nearer to nature 
 than to rnan. Until their intellect is suf- 
 ficiently developed for his use and abuse, 
 they are innocent. He perverts their 
 faculties ; aild then his love wanes into 
 esteem for their applicable qualities. The 
 man of the world sees nothing in growing 
 trees but wood; and looks at his tim- 
 ber account with more pleasure than at his 
 oaks and elms, till they are felled. On 
 the other hand, the lover of nature has no 
 earthly felicity but in the truth, of nature, 
 which man lives to belie. The slyes and 
 sunsets of Claude, the clouds of Wilson, 
 the green lanes of Hobbima, the rustic 
 scenery of Gainsborough, impart unmixed 
 delight. We derive-no such pure gratifica- 
 tion from portraits, even of estimable per- 
 sons,for something is sure to associate which 
 reminds us of human infirmity. In his- 
 torical pictures we have the actions o( 
 3 A 
 
XU3. 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 8. 
 
 1444 
 
 beings like ourselves, and their turmoils 
 afford no permanent satisfaction. As 
 paintings they are imperfect; and, to 
 avoid the offence of obvious faults, we 
 admire limbs which happen to be true, 
 the fall of a bit of drapery, dark shadows, 
 and rich lights thrown in for effect. We 
 have a conviction that all is not as it 
 ought to be. Men and their works have 
 no claims upon such intense observation 
 as the landscape-painter bestows upon 
 nature. 
 
 Upon the card of Mr. W. A. Delamotte 
 junior, drawing master of Sandhurst, who 
 has occasionally favored me with several 
 subjects for the Year-Book, there is the 
 preceding sketch ; which, as I have not 
 the pleasure to know Mr. Delamotte 
 personally, he will doubtless be surprised 
 to find thus transferred. Musing upon 
 his Vignette, as I sat in my viewless, sun- 
 less, town apartment, while he, perhaps, 
 was sketching in the open country, I 
 fell to imagining the sort of scenery com- 
 manded by the hill which the Berghem- 
 like figure on the ass is descending — a 
 view unaltered, probably,through centuries 
 of time ; although, under the variations of 
 season and weather, continually changing 
 to the eye of a landscape-painter. With 
 one of Berghem's pictures before me I might 
 have realised the scene ; or perhaps one 
 of his prints. There are at least forty 
 masterly sketches of landscapes and cattle 
 etched by himself; and at Dulwich, in 
 the first room, there is a painting by him, 
 opposite to another by Both, oif a beau- 
 tiful wood-scene. These two pictures 
 are alone worth a walk from London to 
 see. While looking at them it may be 
 remembered that Berghem and Both were 
 contemporaries and rivals. A burgo- 
 master of Dort engaged Berghem to exe- 
 cute one of his finest works ; at the same 
 time he ordered a picture "from Both ; 
 and to excite their emulation he promised 
 a large additional sum for the best per- 
 
 formance. The picture! were finished, 
 and critically examined by competent 
 judges, who pronounced them of equal 
 merit; and the liberal Dutchman pre- 
 sented to each artist an equal sum beyond 
 the stipulated price. 
 
 Becembev 8. 
 
 8th December 1824. A letter of this 
 date in the Times newspaper mentions, 
 that on the Monday preceding, about two 
 o'clock in the afternoon, the shock of an 
 earthquake was very sensibly felt at Chi- 
 chester, and many of the inhabitants ran 
 into the streets in the greatest consternation, 
 under the impression that their dwellings 
 were actually falling. Bells in the houses 
 were set a ringing, and the window-blinds 
 unrolled ; and in the market-places apples 
 rolled off the stalls. One individual 
 states, that he was sitting in a small room, 
 and distinctly saw the walls move from 
 south to north out of their perpendfcular, 
 and as instantaneously resume their po" 
 sition. The shock lasted from three to 
 five seconds. It was felt at Arundel, 
 Aldwick, Bognor, Emsworth, Havant, and 
 places adjacent. 
 
 At Portsmouth, both light and heavy 
 articles of furniture were in a tremor 
 for about four seconds of time. The 
 floors seemed to heave up a little, and 
 the windows shook as they do by means 
 of heavy gusts of wind ; bird-cages, and 
 other suspended articles, oscillated some 
 seconds after the shock had subsided. 
 There was no report, nor any unusual ap- 
 pearance in the sky, or about the sun, at 
 the time ; but, during the morning, the 
 sky had been filling with light clouds, 
 and soon after the shock a stratum of low 
 electric clouds sprung up with a wind 
 from the S. W. ; and the upper stratum 
 changed from grey to red and lake colors, 
 some time before the sun had set 
 
 The Season. 
 
 Hear ! O hear ye the claiigor of his voicej 
 And the peal that issueth from his mouth ! 
 Under the whole heavens is his flash ; 
 And his lightning unto the ends of the earth. 
 After it pealeth the voice ; 
 He thundereth with the voice of his majesty ! 
 
 Great things doeth He, surpassing knowledge : 
 Behold ! He saith to the snow— be I 
 On the earth then falleth it s 
 
1445 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 9. 
 
 1446 
 
 To the rain, and it falleth — 
 
 The rains of his might. 
 
 Upon the labour of every man He putteth a seal : 
 
 Even the brute kind go into covert, 
 
 And abide in their dwellings. 
 
 From the utmost zone issueth the whirlwind : 
 And from the arctic chambers, cold. 
 By the blast of God the frost congealeth, 
 And the expanse of the waters, into a mirror. 
 
 He also loadeth the cloudy woof mtii redundance ; 
 His effulgence disperseth the'gloom. 
 Thus revolveth He the seasons in his wisdom. 
 That they may accomplish whatsoever He commandeth them. 
 Over the face of the world of earth. 
 Constantly in succession, whether for judgment 
 Or for mercy, He causeth it to take place. 
 
 Hearken to this, O Job ! be still, 
 And contemplate the wondrous works of God. 
 Dost thou know how God ordereth these things ? 
 How the light giveth refulgence to his vapour ? 
 Dost thou know of the balancings of the clouds ? 
 Wonders — perfections of wisdom ! 
 
 Teach us how we may address Him, 
 When arrayed in robes of darkness ; 
 Or, if brightness be about Him, how I may commune. 
 For, should a man then speak, he would be consumed ! 
 Even now we cannot look at the light 
 When it is resplendent in the heavens. 
 
 And a wind from the north hath passed along and cleared them. 
 Splendour itself is with God 1 
 Insufferable m^esty ! 
 
 Almighty ! — ^we cannot comprehend Him ! — 
 Surpassing in power and in judgment] 
 
 Job translated by Goon. 
 
 December 8. — Day breaks . 
 Sun rises . . 
 — sets * . , 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 
 5 sr 
 
 8 2 
 3 58 
 6 3 
 
 Mtcemfitv 9. 
 
 Ornamental Ladies' Work. 
 
 In the Edinburgh Gazette of December 
 9 ,1703, is the following advertisement :=: 
 
 " Near Dundee, at Dudhope, there is to 
 be taught, by a gentlewoman from Lon- 
 don, the following works, viz. : — Wax- 
 work of all 3orts> as, any one's picture 
 to the life, figures in shadow-glasses, fruits 
 upon trees or in dishes, all manner of 
 confections, fish, flesh, fowll, or any thing 
 that can be made of wax, — 2. Philligrim 
 work of any sort, whether hollow or flat. 
 — 3. Japan-work upon timber or glass. — 
 4.. Painting upon glass. — 5. Sashes for 
 
 windows upon sarsnet or transparent 
 paper. — 6. Straw work of any sort, as 
 houses, birds, or beasts. — 7. Shell-work, 
 in sconces, rocks, or flowers. — 8. Quill- 
 work. — 9. Gum-work. — 10. Transparent 
 work. — 11. Puff-work.— 12. Paper-work. 
 — 13. Plate-work on timber, brass, or 
 glass. — 14 Tortoise - shell -work. — 15. 
 Mould-work, boxes and baskets. — 16. Sil- 
 ver landskips. — 17. Gimp-work. — 18. 
 Bugle-work. — 19. A sort of work iu im- 
 itation of japan, very cheap. — 20. Em- 
 broydering, stitching, and quilting. — 2]. 
 True point or tape-lace — 22. Cutting 
 glass. — 23. Washing gazes, or Flanders 
 lace and point. — 24. Pastry of all sorts, 
 with the finest cutts, and shapes, . that's 
 now used in London. — 25. Boning fowUs 
 without cutting the back. — 26. Butter- 
 work. — 27. Preserving, conserving, and 
 candying. — 28. Pickling and colouring. 
 — 29. All sorts of English wines.— 30. 
 Writing and arithmetick. — 31. Musick, 
 
1417 
 
 rUE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBEIl 9. 
 
 i'148 
 
 and the great end of dancing, whicli is a 
 good carriage, and several other things 
 too tedious here to be montioned : Any 
 who are desirous to learn the above works 
 may board with herself at a reasonable 
 rate, or may board themselves in Dundee, 
 and may come, to her quarterly." — 
 
 Upon the incidental item" 30. Writing 
 and arithmetick," in the above notice, 
 Mr. Chambers sarcastically observes, "Fal- 
 staff's tavern bill outdone! — three shil- 
 lings worth of sack to a half- penny worth 
 of bread !" 
 
 Scottish Manners. 
 Many young ladies of quality were 
 ent to reside with, and be finished off by, 
 ne hon. Mrs. Ogilvie, lady of the hon. 
 Patrick Ogilvie of Longmay and Inch- 
 martin. She was supposed to be the best 
 bred woman of her time in Scotland, and 
 died in 1753. Her system was very rig- 
 orous, according to the spirit of the times. 
 The young ladjes were taught to sit quite 
 upright; and the mother of our informant, 
 (one of the said young ladies), even when 
 advanced to nearly her eightieth year, 
 never permitted her back to touch the 
 chair in sitting. 
 
 There is a characteristic anecdote of 
 the husband of this rigorous preceptress. 
 He was a younger brother of the earl 
 of Findlaler, who greatly exerted him. 
 self in behalf of the union, and who ob- 
 served upon the rising of the last Scot- 
 tish parliament " Now, there ij an 
 end of an auld sang !'' — The younger bro- 
 ther had condescended to trade a little 
 in cattle, which was not then considered 
 derogatory to the dignity of a Scottish 
 gentleman. However, the earl was of- 
 fended at the measure, and upbraided 
 his brother for it. " Haud your tongue, 
 man !" said the cattle dealer, " Better sell 
 nowte than sell nations," pronouncing the 
 last word with peculiar and emphatic 
 breadth,* 
 
 Golf — Bandy-Ball. 
 
 This is considered by Strutt as one 
 of the most ancient games at ball re- 
 quiring the assistance of a club or bat. 
 He says, " In the reign of Edward III. 
 the Latin name Cambuca was applied to 
 this pastime, and it derived the denom- 
 ination, no doubt, from the crooked club 
 
 * Chambers'e Traditions of Edinburgh. 
 
 oi: bat with whicli it was played ; the bat 
 was also called a bandy from its being 
 bent, and hence the game itself is fre- 
 quenily written in English bandy-ball." 
 It should seem that golf was a fashionable 
 game among the nobility at the com- 
 mencement of the seventeenth century, 
 /tnd it was one of the exercises with 
 which prince Henry, eldest son to James 
 I., occasionally amused himself, as we 
 learn from the following anecdote re- 
 corded by a person who. was present: 
 " At another time playing at goff, a play 
 not unlike to pale-maille, whMst his 
 schoolmaster stood talking with another, 
 and marked not his highness warning him 
 to stand further off, the prince, thinking 
 he had gone aside, lifted up his goff-club 
 to strike the ball ; mean tyme one stand- 
 ing by said to him, ' beware that you hit 
 not master Newton,' wherewith he draw- 
 ing back his hand, said, ' Had I done so, 
 I had but paid my debts.' " — Golf and 
 foot-ball appear to have been prohibited 
 in Scotland by king James II., in 14.57; 
 and again !nl491 by James IV. The ball 
 used at this game was stuffed with very 
 hard feathers. Strutt says that this game 
 is much practised in the north of England. 
 Dr. Jamieson speaks of it as a common 
 game in Scotland, and mentions " shinty, 
 an inferior species of golf generally 
 played at by young people." lie adds, 
 "In London thi^game is called hackie. It 
 seems to be the same whicli is designated 
 Not in Gloucestershire ; the name being 
 borrowed from the ball, which is made of 
 a knotty piece of wood.'' 
 
 In the "Selecta Poemata" of Dr. Pit- 
 cairn is a distich " In irdis Joan. Pater- 
 soni," to the following effect : 
 Cam victor ludo, Scotis qui proprus, cssct, 
 
 Ter tres victores post redimitoa avos, 
 Patersonus, humo tunc educebat in altuiu 
 
 Hanc quae victores tot tulit una domus. 
 
 The lines may be thus translated, " In the 
 year when Patersone won the prize in 
 golfing, a game peculiar to the Scotch, in 
 which his ancestors had nine times gained 
 the same distinction, he raised this lofty 
 house from the ground, — a victory more 
 honorable than all the rest." In the 
 Edinburgh Magazine and Review, 1774, 
 is this note concerning Pitcairn's epigram: 
 " It has the good fortune to be recorded 
 in gold letters on the house itself, near 
 the foot of the Canongate, almost oppo- 
 site to Queensberry house. It is probable 
 that what the doctor means as a jest, Pa- 
 tersone believed to be a serious panegyric." 
 
1449 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 9. 
 
 450 
 
 But tradition gives a somewhat different 
 color to tbe matter, and among many stories 
 preserves the following, which in theopin- 
 ion of Mr. Chambers seems the most pro- 
 bable. During the residence of the duke 
 of York in Edinburgh, he frequently 
 resorted to Leith Links, in order to enjoy 
 the sport of golfing, of which he was very 
 fond. Two English noblemen, who fol- 
 lowed his court, and who boasted of 
 their gxpertness in golfing, were one day 
 debating with him whether tliat amusement 
 were peculiar to Scotland or England ; 
 and there being some difficulty in deter- 
 mining the question, it was proposed to 
 decide by an appeal to the game itself; 
 the ilnglishmcn agreeing to rest the legi- 
 timacy of their national pretensions, as 
 golfers, on the result of a match for a 
 large sum of money to be played with the 
 duke and any Scgjsman he might select. 
 The duke aimed at popularity, and, 
 thinking this an opportunity for asserting 
 his claims to the character of a Scotchman, 
 and for flattering a national prejudice, 
 immediately accepted the challenge. He 
 caused diligent enquiry to be made for 
 an efficient partner and the person re- 
 commended to him was a poor man, 
 named John Patersone, d shoemaker, and 
 the best golf-player of his day, whose 
 ancestors had been equally celebrated 
 from time immemorial. Patersone ex- 
 pressed great unwillingness to enter into 
 a match of such consequence ; but, on 
 the duke encouraging him, he promised 
 to do liis best. The match was played, 
 in which the duke and Patersone, were, 
 of course, victorious ; and the laiter wa.s 
 dismissed with an equal share of the stake 
 played for. With this money he imme- 
 diately built a comfortable house in the 
 Canongate, in the wall of which the duke 
 caused a stone to be placed, bearing the 
 arms of the family of Patersone, sur- 
 mounted by a crest and motto, appro- 
 priate to the distinction which its owner 
 had acquired as a golfer. The plain flat 
 slab upon which Pitcairn's epigram was 
 engraved, is still to be seen in the front, 
 wall of the second flat of the house- 
 though the gilding has disappeared. 
 Under the distich there is' placed a singular 
 motto, viz., " 1 hate no person," which 
 an anagrammatical transposition of the 
 letters contained in the words, " John 
 Patersone." The coat of arms is placed 
 near the top of the house, and bears — 
 three pelicans vulned — on a chief three 
 mullets -cres, a dexter hand grasping a 
 
 golf-club — motto, "Far and sure.'' Ac- 
 cording to Nisbet'sHistory, the family arra8 
 of the Patersons were " three pelicans feed- 
 ing their young, or, in nests, vert, with 
 a chief, azure, charged with mollets 
 argent." 
 
 Golfing is an amusement of considerable 
 9P'\nMity in Scotland, and, as before stated 
 ■mux •'!« object of a statute in the reign of 
 James II. (1457), enacting " that fute- 
 ball and golfe be utterly cryed down," 
 because, it would appear, these amuse- 
 ments interfered with the practice of 
 archery, which the policy of th^ Scottish 
 king endeavoured to encourage, for the 
 sake of better competing with the Eng- 
 lish archers, so formidable by their ex- 
 pertness in the use of the bow. Charles 
 I. was fond of golfing, and, during his 
 visit of 1642, was engaged in a game on 
 Leith Links, when the news of the Irish 
 rebellion reached him ; which, striking 
 him with consternation, he instantly left 
 the ground in his carriage, and next day 
 proceeded to London. His son James 
 was equally *3ii r fie sport, and fre- 
 quently playea w.. i^eith Links ; which 
 was the principal resort of golfers, long 
 before the Borough Muir became ^t for 
 the game. James was also much at- 
 tached to tennis, which was then a more 
 fashionable amusement than golfing, 
 though it has latterly given place., — The 
 common called Craigentinny, a piece of 
 waste ground which once skirted the 
 beach opposite Seafield toll-bar, and is 
 now entirely washed away by the sea, was 
 likewise a great resort among golfers, 
 during the seventeenth century. The 
 Logans of Kestalrig had a piece of ground 
 near their seat at Lochend, appropriated 
 to their own amusement ; to which the 
 inhabitants of Canongate, and the 
 courtiers in latter times, were in the habit 
 of repairing, after the possessions of the 
 above family were forfeited. There is a 
 tradition preserved among the descendants 
 of the Logans, who are considerable pro- 
 prietors in Berwickshire, that Halburt 
 Logan, one of the last of the race who 
 resided in the neighbourhood of his 
 ancient patrimonial territory, was one day 
 playing here, when a messenger sum- 
 moned him to attend the privy council. 
 Despising this, and being also heated by 
 his game, he used some despiteful lan- 
 guage to the officer, who instantly went to 
 court and repeated the same ; and a war- 
 rant being then issued by the incensed 
 councillors, on a charge of high treason. 
 
1451 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 10, 11. 
 
 1452 
 
 he was obliged to throw down his club, 
 mount a fleet horse, and fly to England.* 
 
 Ikcember9.—Diy Breaks 
 Sun rises 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 
 m. 
 58 
 
 3 
 57 
 
 2 
 
 Bectmttv 10. 
 
 Stage Coaches, and Waggons. 
 
 10th December 1658. Under this date 
 there is entered in sir William Dugdale's 
 Diary, " that he came out of London with 
 Mr. Prescot, by coach, by Aylesbury." 
 Upon this, Mr. Hamper remarks that 
 stage-coaches were established about that 
 time. He refers to a. paper in the Ar- 
 choaelogia by Mr. Markland for an inter- 
 esting account of the old modes of con- 
 veyance in England, and cites as follows, 
 from the " Exact Dealer's Daily Com- 
 panion" published in 1720, for the stage- 
 coach travelling then greatly admired on 
 account of its speed. 
 
 " By stage-coaches one may be trans- 
 ported to any place, sheltered from foul 
 weather, and foul ways, free from en- 
 damaging one's health or body, by hard 
 jogging or over-violent motion ; and this 
 not only at a low price, as about a shilling 
 for every five miles, but with such velo- 
 city and speed, as that the posts, in some 
 foreign countries, make not more miles 
 in a day : for the stage-coaches called 
 flying-coaches, make forty or fifty miles 
 in a day, as from London to Oxford, or 
 Cambridge, and that in the space of 
 twelve hours, not counting the time for 
 dining, setting forth not too early, nor 
 coming in too late." The method and 
 rate of driving, or rather dragging, for 
 the boasted " velocity and speed" may 
 be estimated at something like' four miles 
 an hour, the writer esteems "such an 
 admirable commodiousness both for men 
 and women of better rank, to travel from 
 London, and to almost all the villages 
 near this great city, that the like hath not 
 been known in the world !" 
 
 This was little more than a century 
 ago; and, though before then stage- 
 coaches were in use, yet we find people 
 " of better rank," and even ladies tra- 
 
 • Chambers's Traditions of Edinburgh. 
 
 veiling from the country by the waggon. 
 Mr. Dugdale says, , 
 
 " 1660. March 13. My daughter 
 Lettice went towards London in a Co- 
 ventry waggon." Mr. Hamper observes, 
 " This mode of conveyance was possibly 
 chosen by the young lady as affording 
 greater security and comfort than the 
 stage-coach, or permitting her to carry a 
 larger quantity of luggage. The company 
 of friends might also influence her choice. 
 Our novelists of a later period, often in- 
 troduced the scenes which a stage-waggon 
 supplied them with." 
 
 h. m. 
 
 December 10. — Day Breaks . 5 58 
 
 Sun rises ..84 
 
 — sets . . 3 56 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 2 
 
 Buemttv li. 
 
 nth December, 1753, the Dey of Al- 
 giers was assassinated, and his grand 
 treasurer mortally wounded, while they 
 were distributing the pay to the soldiery 
 in the court yard of the palace. The ring- 
 leader of six desperadoes, after receiving 
 his pay, and taking the Dey's hand to kiss 
 according to custom, thrust a dagger into 
 the Dey's breast, then fired a pistol into 
 his side. The Dey rising, said, ". Is there 
 none among ye," looking at his attendatits, 
 " that can destroy such a villain ?" and 
 instantly died. At the same time fell the 
 treasurer, who received a pistol ball in his 
 collar bone, a cut with a sabre across his 
 head, and other wounds. The first assas- 
 sin, seizing the Dey's turban, and putting 
 it on his own head, seated himself in the 
 chair of state, and began to harangue the 
 Divan. Brandishing his sabre he de- 
 clared how he would govern, what powers 
 should feel his wrath, and what glory at- 
 tend his reign, when one of the Chiauses, 
 or messengers of the palace, snatching up 
 a carbine, shot him dead. He had been 
 seated about a quarter of an hour, in 
 which time his associates had ordered the 
 Dey's music to play, the drums to beat, 
 and the guns to be fired, all which would 
 infallibly have been done, and the usur- 
 per declared sovereign, had he kept his 
 place but a few minutes longer. This 
 daring attempt was made in open day in 
 the presence of 300 soldiers, who being 
 unarmed, as is the custom when they ap- 
 proach their sovereign, ran away by a. 
 private back door for fear of being sus- 
 
14i3 
 
 THE YEAR BOOIC— DECEMBER U. 
 
 U54 
 
 pected to be of the number of the con- 
 spirators. The Dey's guard, who waited 
 without the gates completely armed, were 
 either intimidated by apprehending a 
 revolt of the whole soldiery, or were 
 shut out by the precaution of the con- 
 spirStors. Ali Bashaw, the Aga of the 
 Spahis, or generallissimo, was imme- 
 diately sent for, and placed in the seat of 
 the murdered Dey ; the cannon were fired, 
 and in one hour's time things were re- 
 stored to a stale of tranquillity and the 
 government of Algiers was in as much 
 order, and as firm as ever.* 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Old Laws. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 I am accustomed to seek for 
 amusement in odd places. The other 
 night I turned over some volumes which, 
 to common readers, would not appear 
 likely to afford recreation ; viz. the 
 " Statutes at Large :" and in the course 
 of my pastime I noted down a few curious 
 specimens of ancient laws, which I sub- 
 join for your use 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Yours obliged, 
 
 H. W. Lander. 
 September 12tla, 1827. 
 
 Apparel. — No servant of husbandrie, 
 nor common labourer, shall wearein their 
 clothing any cloth whereof the broad yard 
 shall pass the price of two shillings ; nor 
 shall suffer their wives to weare any 
 kerchefie whose price exceedeth twentie 
 pence. And that no manner of person 
 under the estate of a lord shall weare any 
 gowne or mantell, vTnless it bee of such 
 length, that hee being upright, it 
 shall cover his buttocks, upon peine 
 to forfeit twenty shillings. — (22 Edw. IV. 
 cap. 1). 
 
 Archery. — All sorts of men, under the 
 age of forty years, shall have bows and 
 arrows, and use shooting. — (3 Henry 
 Vin. cap. 3). No bowyer shall sell any 
 bow of yew to any person between the 
 age of eight and fourteen years, above the 
 price of twelve pence. — (31 ibid. cap. 9). 
 
 Fast Days. — Whosoever shall, by 
 preaching, teaching, writing, or open 
 
 Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
 speech, notify that eating of fish, or for, 
 bearing of flesh, is of any necessity for 
 saving the soul of man, shall be punished, 
 as spreaders of false news are and ought 
 to be (5 Eliz. cap. 5, sec. 40). 
 
 Gipseys. — ^AU persons which shall be 
 found in company of vagabonds calling 
 themselves Egyptians, and so shall con^ 
 tinue for the space of one month, shall be 
 judged as felons, and suffer the pains of 
 death. — (5 Eliz. cap. 20, sec. 3).^ 
 
 Libels. — If any person speak any falsa 
 and slanderous news oi tales against the 
 queen, he shall have both his ears cut off 
 And if any person shall print or set forth 
 any book containing any matter to the de- 
 famation of the queen, or by prophecying, 
 conjuration, &c., seek to know how long 
 the queen shall live, he shall be adjudged 
 a felon. — (23. Eliz. cap. 2). 
 
 Masks and Mummers. — Mummers shall 
 be imprisoned three months, and fined at 
 the justices' discretion. The penalty for 
 selling visors, or keeping them, is to 
 forfeit twenty shillings, aud to be im- 
 prisoned at the discretion of the justices, 
 —(3 Henry VIIL cap. 9). 
 
 Pins. — No person shall put to sale any 
 pins but only such as shall be double- 
 headed, and have the heads soldered 
 fast to the shank and well smoothed ; the 
 shank well shaven ; the point wtU and 
 round filed, cauled and sharpened. — (34 
 and 35 Henry VIU. cap. 6). 
 
 Witchcraft, 4"c. — It shall be felony to 
 practise, or cause to be practised, conju- 
 ration, witchcraft, enchantment, or sorcery, 
 to get money ; or to consume any person 
 in his body, members, or goods ; or to 
 provoke any person to unlawful love ; or 
 to declare where goods stolen be; or, for 
 the despite of Christ, or lucre pf money, 
 to pull down any cross. — (33 Henry 
 VIII. cap. 8). 
 
 Woollen Caps. — All persons above the> 
 age of seven years shall wear upon sabr- 
 baths and holidays, upon their heads, a 
 cap of wool, knit, thicked, and dressed in 
 England, upon pain to forfeit, for every 
 day not wearing, three shillings and four 
 pence. — (13 Eliz. cap. 19). 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 December M. — Daybreaks . 
 
 , 5 58 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 . 8 4 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 , 3 ^(> 
 
 Twilight ends , 
 
 , 6 2 
 
l-4i5 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 11. 
 
 145S 
 
 BIRCHINGTON, ISLE OF THANET, KENT. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 FewLondoners have not, at some time 
 or other " been to Margate," yet, I think 
 I may venture to assert, there are few of 
 its visitors who have visited the pretty 
 village of Birchington, although it is 
 situated at a very short distance from that 
 town. The general gaiety and amuse- 
 ments of Margate usuallykeep the cockney 
 within its precincts. He has left London, 
 and is at a " watering place," and that is 
 enough for him, who when at home scarce 
 dreams of venturing forth from the city's 
 precincts, beyond the extent a shilling 
 tare by the stage will carry him. 
 
 "Suburban villas, highway side retreats. 
 That dread th'incroachment of our growing 
 streets. 
 
 Tight boxes, neatly saah'd, and in a blase 
 With all a July sun's* collected rays. 
 Delight the citizen, who gasping there. 
 Breathes clouds of dust and calls it country air." 
 
 About four miles west of Margate, on 
 the coast, is situated the little village of 
 Birchington, remarkable, like most other 
 places in the isle of Thanet, for its anti- 
 quity. It is within the jurisdiction of the 
 Cinque ports, and is an adjunct to the 
 town and port of Dover. The parish is 
 bounded by high cliffs of chalk, in which 
 are several large apertures, forming con- 
 venient passages to the sea side. They 
 are generally presumed to have been 
 worked for the purpose of smuggling, 
 much of which "fair trade" has been 
 from time immemorial carried on in that 
 neighbourhood. 
 
1-J57 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 12. 
 
 1458 
 
 The village is on an eminence, and in 
 the midst stands the above church, the 
 summit of which commands delightful 
 prospects of the surrounding country by 
 sea and land, with a particularly fine 
 view of Canterbury cathedral, which 
 forms a conspicuous object, although 
 twelve miles distant. Birchington church 
 is dedicated to All Saints. It is a very 
 handsome building, consisting of a nave 
 and two aisles, with three chancels be- 
 yond, one of which formerly belonged to 
 the ancient seat of Quexes in the same 
 parish, and was kept in repair by the 
 owners of that estate. Near the south 
 chancel is the tower of the church, on 
 which is a spire of much service to ships 
 at sea, as a land mark, on account of its 
 raised situation. In the tower are five 
 bells. In the windows are the remains 
 of painted glass sufficient to show that 
 formerly there was much more. The in- 
 terior of the church contains several 
 ancient and very fine monuments, belong- 
 ing to the Quexes, the Nenmes, and the 
 Chrispes ; and in the chancel of the Quexes 
 are several grave-stones. There are brass 
 plates, and .other memorials in good pre- 
 servation, with effigies of numbers of the 
 above families, and other ornaments. The 
 Quex estate is now in the possession of 
 
 Powel, Esq., who resides there, and 
 
 has lately raised a park, in the centre of 
 which he has built a handsome tower, 
 commanding a distinct view of the French 
 coast. The church of Birchington was 
 anciently one of several chapels belonging 
 to the monastery of Monkton, about 
 three mites distant. It is now the only 
 one remaining of that religious house ; 
 but to this day the vicar of Monkton 
 finds a curate to officiate in this church. 
 The parsonage of Birchington, including 
 that of Woodchurch, was many years ago 
 let on a beneficial lease for a long term 
 of years to the family of the Bushells, the 
 living lessee is Benjamin Bushell, Esq., 
 of Clare Court, Monkton. 
 
 B. B. K. 
 
 Becembev 12, 
 
 On the 12th of December, 1653, 
 Oliver Cromwell was declared protector, 
 and it is a singular coincidence that 
 James II. abdicated the throne on the 
 same day In the year 1688. 
 
 SoRTES VlRGILIAN^. 
 
 There is a species of divination per- 
 formed by opening the works of Virgil, 
 &c., and remarking the lines covered with 
 the thumb the instant the leaves are 
 opened, by which, if they can be inter- 
 preted in any respect to relate to you, 
 they are accounted prophetic. This cus- 
 tom appears to have been of very ancient 
 date, and was tried with Homer as well 
 as Virgil. They who applied to this kind 
 of oracle were said to try the Sortes Ho- 
 merieae, or Sortes Virgiliana. King 
 Charles I. is said to have tried this me- 
 thod of learning his fate, and to have 
 found the oracle but too certain. The 
 lines happened upon, were 
 
 At belio audacis populi vexatus et armis, 
 Finibus exturris, cnmplexu avaUus lull, 
 Aiixilium imploret, videatque indigna suorum 
 Funera ^ nee, cum se sub leges pacis iniquae 
 Tradiderit ; regno aut optatgl luce fruatur : 
 Sed cadat ante diem ; medi4que inhumatus 
 - areu^. 
 
 Mneid, lib. iv., 1.615. 
 Translation. 
 But vex'd with rebels and a stubborn race. 
 His country banish'd, and his son*s embrace 
 Some foreign prince for fruitless succours try 
 And see his friends ingloriously die ; 
 Nor, when he shall to faithless terms submit. 
 His throne enjoy, nor comfortable light. 
 But, immature, a shameful death receive. 
 And in the ground th' unhury'd body leave. 
 
 Dr. Welwood says that king Charles 1. 
 and lord Falkland, being in the Bodleian 
 library, made this experiment of their 
 future fortimes, and met with passages 
 equally ominous to each. Aubrey, how- 
 ever,' in his MS. on the Remains of Gen- 
 tilism, tells the story differently. He 
 says, "In December, 1648, king Charles 
 I. being in great trouble, and prisoner at 
 Carisbrooke, or to be brought to London, 
 to his tryal, Charles, prince of Wales, 
 being then at Paris, and in profound sor- 
 row for his father, Mr. Abraham Cowley 
 went to wayte on him. His highnesse 
 asked him whether he would play at 
 cards to divert his sad thoughts. Mr. 
 Cowley replied he did not care to play at 
 cards, but, if his highness pleased, they 
 would use Sortes Virgiliuntc (Mr. Cowley 
 always had a Virgil in his pocket) : the 
 prince liked the proposal, and pricked a 
 pin in the fourth book of the .S'^nied. 
 The prince understood not Latin well, and 
 desired Mr. Cowley to translate the verses, 
 which he did admirably well." 
 
1459 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 13 14. 
 
 1460 
 
 Dr. Johnson, in his Life of Cowley, 
 suspects him to have been tinctured with 
 this superstition, and to have consulted 
 the Virgilian lots on the great occasion of 
 the Scottish treaty, and that he gave credit 
 to the answer of the oracle.* 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 December 12. — Day breaks . , 
 
 . 5 59 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 , 8 5 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 3 55 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 6 1 
 
 Beumbev 13. 
 
 Celestiai. Appearances. 
 
 At this season the southern heaven 
 presents a very beautiful appearance 
 through the night. About ten o'clock 
 the Pleiades and Aldebaran are approach- 
 ing the meridian. Capella is nearly on 
 the zenith ; lower down in the south-east 
 is Sirius, distinguished by its brilliancy;- 
 above, and a little more east, is Procyon; 
 still higher up and further east are the 
 two stars of Gemini, while the beautiful 
 constellation Orion holds a conspicuous 
 place among the above, in the south-south- 
 east.f 
 
 
 h. m, 
 
 December 13. — Day breaks 
 
 5 59 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 8 5 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 3 55 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 6 1 
 
 Becttnbev 14. 
 
 Approach of Christmas. 
 
 A writer in the Worcester Journal 
 says, " Happiness now spreads through the 
 <:ountry like an epidemic, and all parties 
 cordially agree in preparing to greet old 
 Christmas with a hearty welcome. It is an 
 extraordinary faculty of the human mind, 
 that we are always enabled to garnish past 
 occurrences with every pleasure and with 
 every scene of joy in connexion with 
 them ; while every circumstance that 
 might at the time have cast a momentary 
 gloom over the scene is buried in conve- 
 jiient oblivion. I recollect, when I was 
 quite a boy, with what delightful feelings 
 
 ' • Brand, 
 t Dr. Forster's Perennial Calendar. 
 
 I accompanied my uncle to his parish 
 church for the first time on Christmas 
 day; with spirits light and buoyant, and 
 free from every care ; for the cares of n 
 young heart are as traces upon the sea 
 sand, which each returning wave of 
 pleasure washes away. I never shall 
 forget with what pleasure I gazed upon 
 the villagers dressed out in their Sunday 
 finery, with healthy smiling faces, as they 
 gossipped in groups, or strolled along 
 the well-known path to church. The 
 scenery, too, was imposing. The church 
 stands upon a high ground, and com- 
 mands one of the finest prospects that the 
 eye can behold. On the one hand, the 
 river is seen appearing and disappearing 
 from its dark deep channel, while, on 
 the other, the ancient castle of the Nevilles 
 stands in gloomy grandeur amidst bound- 
 less forests of oak, coeval with itself, 
 and far to the west, the Border moun^ 
 tains tower like a ridge of clouds along 
 the horizon. The church is one of those 
 quaint old-fashioned buildings of grey 
 stone so common to the north of England ; 
 and, as you enter the low portal, you are 
 struck with the reverend appearance of 
 the interior — the old oaken pews and 
 benches, all cut and carved into most 
 mysterious hieroglyphics, with a sprig 
 of holly, emblematic of the season, stuck 
 in the corner of each. — What heart does 
 not dilate, with mingled pleasure and re- 
 gret, at the recollection of the scenes of 
 early life ; of the many happy Christmas 
 evenings spent in the society of , those 
 who were dearest to us upon earth ; 
 where the yule-clog blazed bright, and 
 sent its cheering influence round the 
 social circle; and <where happiness was 
 reflected from every face — the school- 
 boy, eager and impetuous in all his holi- 
 day games and tricks — the young and 
 tender female, sitting in sweet retreating 
 modesty, or blushing and smiling in all 
 the charms of innocence and budding 
 beauty — all remind us of 'days of other 
 years.' I cannot resist the impulse of 
 saluting the joyful season as it passes, 
 and heartily wishing all my kind readers 
 a full enjoyment of its pleasures." 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 December 14. — Day breaks . 
 
 . 5 59 
 
 Sun rises 
 
 8 6 
 
 — sets . . , 
 
 , 3 54 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 1 
 
146! THE YEAR BOOK.-DEGEMBER 15, 16, 17, 18. 
 
 jBSectmfietis. 
 
 Christmas at the Temple. 
 
 December 15, 1641, Mr. Evelyn says 
 in his Diary, " I was elected one of the 
 comptrollers of the Middle Temple revel- 
 lers, as the fashion of the young gentle- 
 men and students was, the Christmas 
 being kept this year with great solemnity." 
 
 1462 
 
 December 16. — Day breaks 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 h. m. 
 
 . 6 a 
 
 . 8 7 
 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 3 53 
 . 6 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 December 15. — Day breaks 
 
 . 6 
 
 Sun rises 
 
 . 8 6 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 3 54 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 6 
 
 Btctm'bev 17. 
 
 Unlucky Day. 
 
 iBetttntev 16. 
 
 " Twice eight is sixteen." 
 a remembrance of eight tears, 
 
 By Thomas Atkinson. 
 (From the Edmhurgh Literary JowmaL) 
 
 A voice coTiies o'er the waves of Time, 
 A sunbeam from behind the past ; 
 
 Around my heart old feelings climb 
 With tendvils fast ; 
 
 While through the rainbow drops of tears. 
 
 Half bright, half sad — I scan eight years. 
 
 Eight years ' — but little more than thrice 
 That sum of time my life hath told ; 
 
 And yet my heart, as with a voice. 
 Says I am old. 
 
 For o'er it crowding joys have swept. 
 
 And griefs their trailing lengths have crept. 
 
 Eight years ! — if by emotions strong 
 We measured out the march of time. 
 
 Then 1 can never live as long. 
 Though seventy times the chime 
 
 Of birth-day bells ring in my ear — 
 
 As that thronged space of joy and fear. 
 
 Yet 'tis but yesterday, 'twould seem. 
 Since first I saw the queen-like form, 
 
 Which, like the memory of a dream. 
 In calm or storm. 
 
 Hath haunted, ay, and bless'd me too, 
 
 And given my web of life its hue. 
 
 Then from the prison of my breast 
 My heart first wing'd, and upon you 
 
 At parting took its earliest rest ; 
 And if it flew 
 
 A moment thence, in pleasure's search, 
 
 It gladly sought again its perch. 
 
 And there 'twill bide, if shelter meet 
 And cloudless kindness keep it warm ; 
 
 Till love hath left no pulse to beat, 
 Or friendship can no longer charm : 
 
 It rests'twixt you and Death ; and Fate 
 
 May make that eighty years— or eight ! 
 
 There be days lucky and unlucky; nnd 
 this must be reckoned one of days un- 
 lucky ; for, of mishap, nothing falleth to 
 It in the Year Book; wherefore be it 
 noticed by notes of ill luck — viz. 
 
 Knives, Scizzars, Razors, &c, 
 
 Grose says, it is deemed unlucky to 
 lay one's knife and fork crosswise : crosses 
 and misfortunes are likely to follow. 
 
 We read in Gay's second Pastoral of 
 the Shepherd's Week : 
 But woe is me ! such presents luckless prove. 
 For knives, they tell me, always sever Love. 
 
 This accords with the vulgar supersti- 
 tion that it is unlucky to give a knife, 
 scizzars, razor, or any sharp or cutting 
 instrument to one*s mistress or friend, as 
 ^ey are apt to cut love and friendship. 
 To avoid the ill effects of such a present, 
 a farthing, a pin, or some trifling recom- 
 pence must be taken. 
 
 To find a knife or razor denotes ill 
 luck and flisappointment to the pai-ty.* 
 
 December 17.— Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 6 
 8 7 
 3 53 
 6 
 
 Btcemttr 18. 
 
 Mansion House,' London. 
 December 18, 1735. — A civic dis- 
 cussion respecting a residence for the 
 Lord Mayor," is recorded in the His- 
 torical Chronicle of the Gentleman's 
 Magazine, in the following lines. 
 
 At Guild-hall fierce debates arose^ 
 'Twixt common council friends and fo s. 
 About a lord mayor's mansion house. 
 Some were for having; it erected 
 At Stock's market, as first projected. 
 But others, nor their number small. 
 Voted for market Tjeaden hall, 
 
 * Brand. 
 
1463 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK DECEMBER 13 
 
 1464 
 
 One of the places all agreed 
 Should for that purpose be decreed. 
 Whence springs this strife we are i'th' dark 
 
 yet. 
 Whether to keep or make a market j 
 And on 111* affair all can be said, 
 They differ but as stocks and lead. 
 
 The Charter House. 
 
 In the city of London, between St. 
 John's-street on the west, Goswell-street 
 on the east, Long-lane on the south, and 
 Wilderness-row on the north, stands the 
 Charter-house, an edifice originally pur- 
 chased for the burial of those who died 
 of the plague in 1349. Here sir Walter 
 Manny founded a Carthusian monastery, 
 which, by corruption of the French term, 
 Cfiartreux, obtained the name of the 
 Charter-house. It shared the common 
 fate of religious houses at the dissolution, 
 and in 1611 was purchased by Thomas 
 Sutton, esq., citizen and girdler, a rich 
 old bachelor, for £l 3,000. He fitted up 
 the house at an expense of £7000, and 
 endowed the hospital and school with 
 fifteen manors and other lands, yielding 
 £4493 19s. lOJd. annually, as a charita- 
 ble foundation, guaranteed by letters 
 patent of James I., and confirmed by 
 parliament. The incomehas since largely 
 increased. 
 ' When Noorlhouck, who may be deem- 
 ed the best historian of London, wrote in 
 1773, the Charter-house maintained eighty 
 pensioners. According to the founder's 
 direction they " aught to be decayed 
 gentlemen, merchants, or soldiers." The 
 pensioners are provided with apartments, 
 and all necessaries except clothes, instead 
 of which, in Noorthouck's time, each v/as 
 allowed a cloak, and £7 per annum. 
 Their allowances in 1800 are stated below, 
 from an official MS. 
 
 Besides the adult pensioners there are 
 forty-four boys supported in the house, 
 where they are well lodged and classically 
 instructed. Twenty-nine of tliese are 
 sent as students to the Universities, with 
 an annual allowance of £20 each, for 
 eight years. Others are apprenticed to 
 trades, with a fee on binding of £40 for 
 each. Nine ecclesiastical preferments in 
 the patronage of the governors are con- 
 ferred, by the constitution of the founda- 
 tion, upon those who derive education 
 from it. Both pensioners and youths are 
 received upon the recommendation of 
 the governors, who appoint in rotation. 
 
 [From the MS. above referred to.] 
 Particulars of Charter-house Al- 
 lowance TO Pensioners. 
 
 Summer Season. ^ ^ 
 
 Monday . . Roast mutton § g 
 
 Tuesday . . . Roast veal. s S 
 
 Wednesday . . Boiled mutton, s g 
 Thursday . . Roast beef. .a '~ 
 
 Friday . . . Boiled mutton. | -g 
 Saturday . . . Flank beef. i-^ s 
 
 Sunday . . . Roast beef and boiled 
 mutton ; with plumb- 
 puddings the winter 
 six months. 
 Winter Season. 
 The same as above, excepting Tuesday ; 
 then they have roast or boiled pork. 
 
 Every Saints day in the year, plumb- 
 pudding. 
 
 Michaelmas-day, roast geese. 
 Founder's-day, fowls, bacon, wine, and 
 strong beer. 
 
 Shrove-Sunday, calves-head and bacon. 
 Easter-Sunday, do. do. 
 
 Christraas-day, a roince-pie 6acb 
 man. 
 
 Fresh butter, one pound and a quarter 
 per week, each man. 
 
 Two quarts of beer per day, do. 
 Michaelmas, three sacks of coals. 
 Christmas, do. do. 
 
 Candles, thirteen pounds. 
 Cash, fourteen pounds per annum. 
 Allowed ' to go where they please two 
 months in the year, witii three shillings 
 per week, while absent. 
 
 Exeter in my Youthful Days. 
 [For the Yeai Book.] 
 
 Recollections of Exeter in my youthful 
 days, ye shall stand forth — faithfully 
 portrayed — in black and white ! Fair 
 city ! thou art endeared to me, by re- 
 membering that within thy walls and 
 their precincts I spent the best years of 
 my boyhood — from seventeen to nineteen 
 — when every scene pleased, and few 
 circumstances inflicted mental pain on 
 the mind ; when I possessed innocency, 
 health, and high spirits ; and sufficient 
 affluence to obtain every object of my 
 simple wishes and humble desires. I 
 cherish fond thoughts of the simplicity of 
 manners and unostentatious hospitality of 
 thy worthy citizens; who, generally in 
 easy circumstances, and many of them 
 opulent, gave every one a hearty family 
 welcome in the good old country fashion 
 
1465 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27. 
 
 1466 
 
 of the sera of 1 782, when the substanliality 
 of the furniture and of the table were as 
 like the plain honest feelings of the people 
 as the tastier and flimsier fittings of our 
 present apartments and the kickshaw fare 
 of our genteel entertainments are similar 
 to the heartless invitations and manners 
 of modern society. 
 
 There was something very picturesque 
 and pleasant, allow me to say, in the full 
 made broad-cloth coat, with its full but- 
 toned cuff and ample skirts, and the 
 bushy or curled wig of an old gentleman ; 
 and in the brocaded hoop-gown and deep 
 ruffles, and the lappets and laced mob 
 cap of an old gentlewoman : aye, and in 
 their good-humored sedateness and quiet 
 stateliness too. The stout gold-headed 
 cane of the one, and the long ivory- 
 headed ebony walking-stick, sometimes 
 umbrellaed, of the other, were worth a 
 whole ocean of switches and parasols — 
 jaunty things, some of them useful in their 
 way, but wholly unknown and unthought 
 of in those honest and comfortable times. 
 
 " Why," say you, " more honest and 
 comfortable times?" I will tell you. 
 People were then less sophisticated ; 
 every one knew and kept his own proper 
 sphere and station : the maxim was 
 " custom to whom custom was due, 
 honor to whom honor." No one ap- 
 proached so familiarly towards another 
 that stood before, or rather above him, as 
 to tread down th^heel of his neighbour's 
 shoe. The gentleman made his politest 
 bow to the gentleman on meeting him ; 
 the tradesman kindly saluted the trades- 
 man in passing; the common people of 
 both sexes had ever something to say 
 civil or cheerful to one another ; and no 
 lad would pass by his elder or superior 
 without touching his hat, or making a 
 respectful bow to him : nor were the little 
 lasses forgetful of their pleasing smiles 
 and reverential curtsies. 
 
 Besides, in those days, provisions of all 
 kinds, beef, veal, mutton, and pork, were 
 to be bought at threepence, and the 
 primest pieces of meat at fourpence a 
 pound, a goose for two shillings or half a 
 crown, ducks and fowls at eighteen pence 
 the couple, fresh butter at five pence a 
 pound, and boat loads and cart loads of 
 all sorts of fish (from Starcross and 
 Torbay). Oh ! if they could have known 
 the give-away prices they were to be sold 
 for, they would have wept themselves to 
 salt water again. And these good things 
 were washed down too with prime cyder 
 
 at a guinea only the hogshead. Money 
 was as plentiful as hops, and no one com- 
 plained, for no one wanted. 
 
 Exeter, dear Exeter ! thou art spread 
 out as a map to my mind's eye — where 
 .shall I begin? Thy long High Street 
 (and in describing that I am nearly por- 
 traying most of thy other thoroughfares), 
 thy long High Street, I say again, with 
 its ancient gateways, rich with statues 
 and battlements (but now removed and 
 obliterated), its roomy and extensive old- 
 fashioned houses, with their gable ends, 
 their grotesque and fancifully ornamented 
 fronts, with their long and bowed out 
 windows extending the whole breadth of 
 the building, with their lozenged-paned 
 leaded casements, and each higher floor 
 projecting out one above the other, that 
 from the near approximation of the upper 
 stories, many opposite neighbours without 
 much effort might cordially shake hands 
 with each other — this was the appearance 
 fifty years ago of parts of Exeter High 
 Street, where, on the three weekly market 
 days, all the good things of the farm, the 
 orchard, and the dairy were wont to be 
 spread out in double rows, from one end 
 of it to the other ; and all, all, and each 
 and every article and morsel were bought 
 up and carried home, and ere the next 
 market day, roasted, baked, fried, broiled, 
 boiled, or stewed, served up and eaten, to 
 the ample satisfaction and sustenance of 
 thy honest good-hearted citizens, their 
 friends, and visitors. 
 
 Such were the inhabitants: and such 
 the abundant providance, that the sur- 
 rounding country supplied for bodily 
 wants and necessities : And this fulness 
 of supply and enjoyment no doubt mainly 
 tended to the establishment and preserva- 
 tion of geimine sociality, good manners, 
 and good humor. The broad cloth large 
 coats, and brocaded hoop gowns, the 
 goodly wigs, and the laced mob caps-, the 
 precious metal-headed canes, and the 
 ladies' tall walking-sticks, have disap- 
 peared with the portly well-behaved gen- 
 tlemen, and the comely cheerful gentle- 
 women, the obliging tradespeople, and 
 the well-behaved boys and girls. Most 
 of these kind-hearted creatures are gone, 
 and so I fear is much of the means of 
 cheap marketing, which I have already 
 hinted at as a primary cause of honesty 
 of character, good behaviour, and good 
 humor. The supply with which a kind 
 providence has so blessed Devonia's 
 fertile hills and vales I doubt not is at this 
 
1467 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 18. 
 
 1468' 
 
 day as fully abundant ; yet, I fear me, is 
 to h.e purchased only at treble the prices 
 of the happy old days I have been de- 
 scribing. 
 
 These good old times, I say, I have no 
 doubt had corresponding effects on the 
 temper as well as on the manners of the 
 people. Independence and comfortable 
 circumstances will impart elasticity of 
 spirits and feelings of benevolence. A 
 tradesman's child is usually better tem- 
 pered and better behaved than a poor 
 man's child ; and a gentleman's son has 
 usually more civility of manners than 
 either. Comfort prompts to cleanliness, 
 and cleanliness tends to engender self- 
 respect : and a laborer's child with 
 plentiful meals, and a cleanly and com- 
 fortable home, will be civil and respectful. 
 
 Fifty years ago was the golden age for 
 wigmakers. It was a goodly and a 
 pleasant sight to behold on a gala-day 
 the members of the ancient and loyal 
 corporation of Exeter in grand procession 
 preceded by the town cryer, the city 
 waits, the trades' companies in their bom- 
 bazeen gowns, with their pennons and 
 banners displayed, and the mayor, re- 
 corder, and aldermen, in their scarlet 
 furred robes, every soul of them looking 
 gravely and worshipful in their full- 
 bottomed bushy wigs. Indeed, I am of 
 opinion, with the honest barber, that there 
 have been neither cheap, nor good, nor 
 truly honest times in England since wigs 
 went out of fashion ; and that they are 
 the only things that effectually distinguish 
 man from the monkey tribe. I never 
 have a chubby nor an angular face with 
 only a few stray hairs upon its caput 
 popped under my nose, but I am reminded 
 of the vacant grinning visage, and sleek 
 poll of an old baboon. 
 
 "And who,'' say you, "were these 
 honest, good humored, kind-hearted 
 people ? What were they ? You have 
 been speaking of gentlemen and trades- 
 men, and common people, as if they were 
 all of one family; and somehow or other 
 closely akin to one another!" Why, I 
 answer, they were, in the first or higher 
 grade, gentlemen and ladies of small but 
 independent fortune ; merchants trading 
 largely to the Mediterranean ; substantial 
 clothing manufacturers (for Exeter then 
 had, and most likely 'now has, a large 
 share in the manufacturing of serges, 
 
 kerseys, &c.* ;) the heads of the custom- 
 house and excise departments ; naval and 
 military officers retired from the service ; 
 the dignitaries of the cathedral, and the 
 parochial clergy Cnineteen of them I 
 think) and their families. And never 
 must ^e forgotten, when speaking of 
 Exeter, its harmonious Jackson, the ce- 
 lebrated musical composer and organist 
 of the cathedral church ; and its classic . 
 Downman ; and its physicians, the 
 doctors Glasse and Oakes, clad in their 
 full-bottomed wigs and ample scarlet 
 roquelaurs. Nor can I here omit men- 
 tioning those two very contrasting natives 
 of gay France, the little corpulent worthy, 
 Louis (the father of the gallant admiral 
 and baronet), the very genius of good 
 breeding and good humor, who instructed 
 with all the grace and agility of a Des- 
 trayis or a Vestris, half the young 
 people of IscA,-| in the varieties of the 
 sprightly danse ; and (though more pro- 
 perly assorting with another class of citi- 
 zens) the volatile and vrai rassemble cari- 
 catura of his Gascon countrymen, the 
 tall, lean, martial bearing, Mons. Peter 
 Herbert, the celebrated teacher of the 
 langue jfrangois, and of the noble science 
 of attack and defence, who would throw 
 you off your guard, and jerk your foil 
 over your head, whilst, with the piercing 
 glance of his keen eye, he would i^scinate 
 you like a basilisk. In the second grade 
 we may reckon some letired tradesmen 
 and commanders of merchant vessels, the 
 more opulent grocers, mercers, apotheca- 
 ries, druggists, builders, and booksellers. 
 Of these last mentioned citizens let me 
 not omit one I well remember (then an 
 octagenarian), and who was personally 
 or nominally known to every lettered 
 man in the kingdom, old Andrew Brice ; 
 nor the more respectable bibliopolists, 
 little Bifly Grigg (with his yellow-white 
 wig), Thorne, Sweetland, and Trueman 
 
 * [The serge and kersey manufactures have 
 disappeared from Exeter. The demand gra- 
 dually ceased^ the Exeter manufacturing 
 branches knew not why, nor went to London 
 to inquire. They lost their trade they knew 
 not how till all, was gone, and then they dis- 
 covered, by the news being brought to them, 
 that the serges and kerseys, which from 
 long usage they imagined they had a pre- 
 scriptive right to malie, were manufactured at 
 a cheaper rate in Lancashire and Yorkshire. 
 —W. H.] 
 
 t The ancient name of Exeter. 
 
1469 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— DECEMBER 18. 
 
 1470 
 
 (each of whom were stocked with capacious 
 libraries of old and valuable books), and 
 Shirley Woolmer (recently deceased), the 
 antiquary and mineralogist of the county ; 
 and that caterer of nouvellettes in the 
 college cloister, the erudite Maister Dyer, 
 the collector of a circulating library, the 
 choicest, and perhaps the most extensive, 
 of any in the whole kingdom, except in 
 the metropolis.* Finally must be noticed 
 that industrious grade who, where there 
 is plenty of employment, and where 
 cheap rent and cheap provisions are to 
 be met with, would be great fools if they 
 were not as kind-hearted and good- 
 humoured, and it would be nothing to 
 their credit if they were not as well-be- 
 haved, in a certain degree, as their betters. 
 " Well ! if you have done describing 
 the people, pray let us hear something 
 more about the place that seems to cling 
 so kindly to your youthful remembrance." 
 Why, then, there is the Northenhay, and 
 Southernhay, the Friar's walk, the river 
 Exe going up to Cowley bridge, the 
 Hayne banks (below the city) — all pleasant 
 walks and places. There is the cathedral, 
 with its noted great bell, its grand organ 
 (the largest in England), its two fine old 
 massive Gothic towers, its venerable 
 western front covered with niches, filled 
 with statues, its noble window of stained 
 glass displaying the armorial bearings of 
 all the first families in the county ; and 
 its close, with its neat shaded gravel'd 
 walks, fiU'd then, as, I doubt not, now, 
 with as graceful forms and bright eyes as 
 
 [• To " Maister Dyer," the eminent book- 
 seller of Exeter, succeeded his son, who in- 
 herited his father's books and his father's 
 affection for them. Young "maister Dyer" 
 added largely to the paternal collections ; he 
 courted, beyond all price, rare and curious 
 books, and feared to part with them for love 
 or money. Mr Carter, a lover of antiquities, 
 an excellent draftsman of antiquarian and 
 topographical subjects, a highly ingenious 
 mechanic, and a most worthy and honorable 
 man, joined Mr. Dyer, jun., in the bookselling 
 business. A few years ago I saw their enor- 
 mous stock en masse. Their collection of 
 theology was astonishing ; it was stacked on 
 manifold shelves to the angle point of the 
 gable of their huge upper warehouse. Every 
 book was in its place in the order of the cata- 
 logue they were then printing, of which I then 
 saw several proof sheets. The work proceeded 
 slowly, for Mr. Dyer and his books were part 
 and parcel of each other, and the thought of 
 parting wiih them was as iron entering into 
 kis soul.— W. H.J 
 
 man can wish to behold. Who can for- 
 get, that ever once saw. Miss Fryer, who 
 was afterwards the beautiful Lady Collier, 
 Miss J — , Miss S, — Miss B — , and a 
 hundred others, who still survive in my 
 remembrance, and that of every one 
 living, who ever had the pleasure of once 
 seeing them? Indeed! I do not know 
 where there are so many healthy, and 
 handsome, and happy, and innocent, 
 forms and faces to be met with together, 
 as at a Devonshire fair or revel. 
 
 "Well! you have mentioned Northern- 
 hay, what sort of a place is that ? " Why, 
 Northernhay, vulgo Norney, is one of 
 the most agreeable walks in England : it 
 skirts the city on the side it takes its 
 name from, and borders on the old Roman 
 c astle of llougemont,of which, however, 
 one solitary, picturesque, massive, ivy- 
 covered tower alone remains, and the old 
 batllemented walls of the city, grand in 
 ruin. This finely shaded walk of consid- 
 erable length was always, in fine weather, 
 crowded with genteel company. It over- 
 looks a deep wooded ravine, beyond 
 which is a goodly champaign prospect, 
 with the suburb of St. Davids; its neat 
 white-washed houses covering the climb 
 of the hill, and its rural country-looking 
 church crowning the summit. Glimpses 
 of the river Exe may also be obtained 
 from certain parts of this elevation. 
 
 Southernhay, vulgo Soudney, on the 
 south side of the city, covered now, as I 
 am told, with respectable buildings, was, 
 in the good old times I am speaking of, 
 an oblong square field, laid out, too, with 
 gravel'd walks round its borders. Here 
 was used to be played by the young men 
 all sorts of rural games, and it was also 
 the ordinary exercising ground of the 
 military. But its proudest time was 
 midsummer, or Glove Fair, which was 
 holden for a fortnight, with all the festive 
 mirth, noise, amusement, and holiday 
 accompaniments, of other large fairs. 
 This fair was opened or proclaimed by 
 the corporation in grand procession, with 
 music and banner-carrying, and an 
 enormously large leather glove, on a high 
 pole, which was placed in the fair, and 
 kept its station there till its conclusion, 
 in memorial of a glove given by King 
 John, on his visiting this city, as a token 
 of the charter he granted for the holding 
 of his fair. 
 
 The-Friar's walk,on a rising ground above 
 the river Exe, has a more extensive and 
 varied view. It was, at the time I am sppak* 
 
1471 
 
 THE YEAa BOOK.— DECEMBER 18. 
 
 14T8 
 
 ing of,a tenter field,having racks for stretch- 
 ing and drying the manufactures of the 
 city, the broad-cloths, which, being chiefly 
 of blue and scarlet colours, and the ground 
 a sloping, gave rather a gay and flaming 
 appearance to Exeter, on approaching it 
 from the westward. This ground, I learn, 
 has been builded upon, and has now a 
 grand terrace of uniformly built houses, 
 occupying the immediate site of what 
 was more particularly called the walk, 
 and commanding a view of the Exe 
 flowing beneath, for a few miles up- 
 wards, and for about ten miles down- 
 wards to the river's junction with the 
 sea ; with a view of the watering 
 towns of Exmouth and Starcross, on either 
 side of the estuary, and the grounds 
 and woods of Powderham castle; also 
 Halldown, an extensive range of moun- 
 tain land about seven miles off'; the vil- 
 lages and churches of Powderham, 
 Kenton, and Alphington; the church and 
 suburbs of St. Thomas ; the neat stone 
 balustraded bridge that unites them to the 
 city ; and some handsome villas pic- 
 turesquely situated at Exwick, at about 
 two miles distance froih this spot. 
 
 The Hayne banks — alongside the canal 
 that brings up vessels from Topsham to 
 the city quay — i.s a delightful walk, well 
 gravelled, and nearly straii^ht for about 
 ten miles, all the way to Starcross. Be- 
 sides obtaining a less elevated view of 
 the scenery from Friar's walk, you pass 
 by, on the right hand, a forest of orchards, 
 covered in summer with blossoms, or 
 loaded in autumn, with ruddy fruit. On 
 the left hand lies the sea port town of 
 Topsham, with its harbour of large 
 merchant vessels. On returning from 
 Starcross is a fine view of the city of 
 Exeter, surmounted hy its beautifully 
 seated and noble cathedral. 
 
 Exeter had then (1782) a fine old 
 guildhall, handsome county courts, where 
 the assizes are holden, a mayoralty or 
 banqueting-house, a famed grammar- 
 school, a county infirmary, a handsome 
 hotel and assembly rooms, nineteen parish 
 churches (Lilliputian ones indeed, and 
 seemingly built for Lilliputians) and a 
 theatre, with a highly respectable com- 
 pany of performers. There were, at the 
 time I am speaking of, Henderson, and 
 Hughes, and Edwin, and Mrs. Edwin, 
 and Whitfield, and "Tom Blanchard, and 
 the pretty Mrs. Ward, whose Hamlet, 
 and Diggory, and Lingo, and Cowslip, 
 and Joseph Surface, and Lubin, and 
 
 pretty, pretty, mad Ophelia, were seldom 
 equalled, and can nevfer, never be sur- 
 passed. There was also a gymnasium, or 
 place for equestrian performances, some- 
 what similar to Astley's in London, but 
 on a very inferior scale of performance 
 indeed. To these, since then, have been 
 added a county jail, a county bridewell, 
 and barracks for cavalry — all, without 
 doubt, unhappily, requisite additions, yet 
 subtracting from the beauty of the view 
 from the Northernhay. 
 
 Last remembered, though not least en- 
 deared to memory, fair Exeter, are thy 
 strawberries and clotted cream — thy 
 sweet junkets (a delightful admixture of 
 curds, and sugar, and nutmeg, and port 
 wine) — the fine peal of thy twelve cathe- 
 dral bells — the grand and powerful tones 
 of its magnificent organ, its singularly 
 beautiful episcopal throne — thy solemn 
 Christmas waits — thy midnight carols, so 
 sweetly sung by a hundred voices, by the 
 light of twice as many tapers^and the 
 many, many happy companionships, and 
 the pleasant walks and excursions we 
 have taken together by the banks of thy 
 river, and over thy upland hills, and 
 through thy ever-verdant vales. 
 
 Such wert thou, Exeter, fifty years ago ! 
 R. T. 
 
 July 15, 1831. 
 
 A Bed-time Charm. 
 
 Ady, in his " Candle in the Dark." 4to. 
 1655, tells of an old woman he knew in 
 Essex, who had lived also in queen 
 Mary's time, and thence learned many 
 popish charms, one of which was this : 
 every night when she lay down to sleep 
 she charmed her bed saying : 
 
 Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, 
 The bed be blest that I lye on : 
 
 and this would she repeat three times, re- 
 posing great confidence therein, because 
 (she said) she had been taught it, when 
 she was a young maid, by the churchmen 
 of t,hose times. 
 
 It. m. 
 
 December 18. — Day breaks . 6 
 
 Sun rises ..87 
 
 — sets . . 3 53 
 
 Twilight ends .'6 
 
i-ir."! 
 
 THE YEAR BOOIC-DECEMBER 18. 
 
 147-^ 
 
 LORD BYRON'S DEATH-PLACE AT MISSOLONGHL 
 
 Mr. W. Delamotte jun. communicated 
 the drawing for this engraving, from a 
 sketch taken on the spot by a lady. It 
 represents the house in which lord Byron 
 died at Missolonghi. The apartment in 
 which he expired is at the top on the left, 
 ilistingaished by an awning and balcony 
 in fioht of the window. This nobleman's 
 career may be likened to that of a wintry 
 sun, which shines between storms, and' 
 sets suddenly in gloom. 
 
 In the next column is a very obliging 
 communication relating to the accom- 
 panying Latin translations — one of them 
 from apoem by lord Byron — printed on 
 the following page. 
 
 Rhime, in Latin verse, is a modem in- 
 vention. In Mr. Turner's Histoiy of the 
 Anglu-sa^ons there is much respecting 
 the period of its origin. 
 
 Macaronic Poetry is said to have been 
 first written by Theophilus Folengij who 
 lived about 1520 — Fosbroke. 
 47 
 
 " Monkish Poems." 
 {To Mr. Hone.] 
 Hampstead Heath, l.'uly/ 1831. 
 
 Sir, — A late perusal of some Monkish 
 poem.s, together with sir Alex. Croke's 
 interesting essay on the subject, has in- 
 duced me to offer my mites (albeit, not 
 of current coin of the realm) to the 
 Editor of the Year Sook^ — a poor re- 
 turn, i'faith, for months of amusement : 
 other friends, however, may contribute of 
 their abundance ; I can, but testify my 
 good will. 
 
 I have merely to add that, contrary to 
 the practice of a late elegant writer of 
 macaronics, I have invariably used ac- 
 cented as rhyming syllables. , Thus only, 
 as it strikes me, can the euphony of these 
 trifles' be secured. I have ac^ded the 
 English, though familiar to all, irerely 
 for facility of comparison. 
 
 Most obediently yours, 
 
 B. L W 
 3 13 
 
1475. 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 18. 
 
 1476 
 
 |ttonfti0l& 'Wtv»e». 
 
 Itord Byron's extempore Farewell to 
 Thomas Moore. 
 
 My boat is on the shore — 
 And my bark is on the sea — 
 
 But, before I go, Tom Moore, 
 Here's a double health to thee^ 
 
 Here's a sigh for those that love me, 
 And a smile for those that liate ; 
 
 Andj whatever sky's above me, 
 Here's a heart for every fate. 
 
 Tho' the ocean roar around me, 
 Yet it still shall bear me on — 
 
 Tho' the desert should surround me. 
 It hath springs that may be vi^on : — 
 
 Wer't the last drop in the well, 
 As I gasp'd upon the brink, 
 Ere my fainting spirit fell, 
 'Tis to thee that I would drink. 
 
 In that water, as this wine. 
 
 The libation I '^vould pour 
 Should be — " Peace to thine and mine, 
 
 Here's a health to thee, Tom Moore." 
 
 Carmen quiddam valedkens a Domino 
 ByroH ad Thomam Morum 'tS 'vKoyviou 
 conscriptum. 
 
 Me ad littus manet cymba — 
 Stat in alto navis : — ibo. — 
 
 Priis autem, me sodalis, 
 Tibi bisque terque bibo. 
 
 Qui am&stis me valete — 
 Valeant et qui oderunt — r 
 
 Pectus en ! quod forte feret 
 
 Fata cceli queevis erunt. 
 
 Circa licfet mare fremat. 
 
 Trans uudosos ferar monies^- 
 
 Circa pateat eremus, 
 Dulcis aqua; tenet fonles :— 
 
 Itna mod& restet gutta, 
 
 Rep^ jaeens sicoo ore, 
 Tibi, animft languente, 
 
 Bibam ultimo humore. 
 
 Cordis hoc vocisque votum 
 
 iEquil ill^ h6c ceu vino 
 Siet — " Tuis Pax meisque 
 
 Tibi, Thoma mi propinb." 
 
 Tram Shakspeare's Passionate Pilgrim 
 
 Crabbed age and yoiith 
 
 Cannot live together ; 
 
 Youth is full of pleasauncBj 
 
 ^'ge is full of care : 
 
 Youth like summer morn. 
 
 Age like winter weather t 
 
 Youth like summer brave, 
 
 Age like winter bare : 
 
 Youth is full of sport, 
 
 Age's brfe^th is short ; 
 
 Youth is nimble, age is lame : 
 
 Youth is hot and bold. 
 
 Age is weak and cold : 
 
 Yoiith is wild, and age is tame'. 
 
 Age, I do abhor thee ; 
 
 Youth, I do adore thee ; 
 
 P, my love, my love is young : 
 
 Age, I do defy thee ; 
 
 Q sweet shepherd, hie thee. 
 
 For methinks thou stay'st too long. 
 
 Quid senectoe cUm juvent^ 
 Simul agunt non securae ;— 
 Est juventus plena salum. 
 Est senectus plena curse. 
 Est juventa sol sestivus. 
 Est senectus brumee cruda, 
 Est juventus sestas ardensj 
 Est senectus hyems nuda. 
 Plena jocfim est juventa, 
 Anima senectse lenta, 
 Est juventus pede cita 
 Est senectus impedita j 
 Dum juventa fervet — viget — 
 Heu ! senectus fracta — friget 
 Venis est juventa plenis> 
 At setiectae sicca lenis. 
 Apage — senectus — oro j 
 T6, juventa, te adoro ; 
 O ! quam amo qu^m decora ! 
 Hinc, senectus, hinc abito — 
 Pastorelle, hie et citb, 
 Nimis enim longa morai 
 
1477 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 19, 20. 
 
 1478 
 
 I9£^cemli«r 19. 
 
 Steeple Flyino. 
 
 December 19, 1735. — ^A feat of this 
 kind in Wiltshire is thus recorded in the 
 
 Gentleiman's Magazine. It was anciently 
 an achievement from the steeple of old 
 St. Paul's cathedral, and of great amuse- 
 ment to the populace during royal pro- 
 cessions through London. 
 
 From Bromham in Wilts came the high flying stranger, 
 Whose whimsical project the church put in danger, 
 His rope from the weathercock stretch'd by the people, 
 Away brought this wild fowl and part of the Steepler 
 He perch'd on a tree, and escap'd with small pain. 
 Though a rope in the end will I doubt prove his bane. 
 May a brief have these numps who pull'd at the bottom, 
 Precedence to take of the wise men of Gotham. 
 
 It is related elsewhere that on the 27th 
 of September, 1731, a sailor slid on a 
 tope from the top of Hackney steeple in 
 less than half a minute, witli a streamer 
 in each hand. 
 
 Hocus Pocos. 
 
 Ady, in his "Candle in the Dark," 
 speaking of common jugglers, that go up 
 and down to play their tricks in fairs and 
 markets, says, " I will speak of one man 
 more excelling in that craft than others, 
 fhat went about in king James's time and 
 long since, who called himself the king's 
 maj'esties most excellent Hocus Focm, 
 and so was he called, because that at the 
 playing of every trick, he used to say 
 hocus pocus tontus, talontus, vade celeriter 
 jnbeo — a darke composition of words to 
 blind the eyes of beholders." 
 
 Butler, in his Hudibras, has the fol- 
 lowing 
 
 a common term among our modern slight 
 of hand men. The origin of this is, 
 probably, to be found among the old 
 Roman Catholics. When the good people 
 of this island were under their thraldom, 
 their priesfs were looked up to with the 
 greatest veneration, and their presence 
 announced in the assemblies with the 
 terms hie est doctus! hie est doctus ! and 
 this probably is the origin of the modem 
 corruption hiccius doctius.* M. F." 
 
 with a slight 
 
 Convey men's interest, and right. 
 From Stiles's pocket into Nokes's 
 As easily as hocus pocus. 
 
 Archbishop Tillotson, in his « Discourse 
 on Transubstantiation/' says that " in all 
 probability those common juggling words 
 <jf hocus pocus are nothing else but a 
 corruption of hoc est dorpus," used in the 
 catholic ceremony of consecration. 
 
 Vallency, speaking of hocus pocus, de- 
 rives it with less probability from the 
 Irish " Coic an omen, a myistery ; and 
 bais, the palm of the hand : whence is 
 formed coiche-bas, legerdemain ; persice, 
 choko-baz: whence the vulgar English 
 hocus pocus." 
 
 Another phrase, "Hiccius doctius" is 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 December 19.— Day breaks 
 
 6 1 
 
 Sun rises 
 
 . 8 7 
 
 — sets . . 
 
 . 3 53 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 . 5 59 
 
 Mecemtev 20. 
 
 Remarkable Dwarf. 
 
 December 20, 1735. TheGentleuien's 
 Magazine records. 
 
 A dwarf from France arrived in town. 
 Measuring hut inches twenty-one. 
 At court a wonder great was shown. 
 Where he, though aged forty-six. 
 Performed twenty childish tricks. 
 
 Moles. 
 In "The Husbandman's Practice; or 
 Prognostication for ever," 1658, theTeis 
 much to show what Moles on several 
 parts of the body denote. For example : 
 If a man have a mole on the place right 
 against tbe heart, it doth denote him, 
 « undoubtedly to be wicked." If a mole 
 in either man or woman appear on the 
 nlace right against the spleen, it doth sig- 
 
 * Brand. 
 
.479 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 21. 
 
 148 
 
 nify that he or she shall be " much pas- 
 sionated and oftentimes sick." 
 
 In " A Thousand notable Things," we 
 find thut moles on the arm and shoulder, 
 denote great wisdom ; on the left, debate 
 and contention. Moles near the armpit 
 riches and honor. A mole on the neck 
 is commonly a sign that there is ano- 
 ther near the stomach, which denotes 
 strength. A mole on the neck and throat 
 denotes riches and health. A mole on 
 the chin, that there is another near the 
 heart, and signifies riches. A mole on 
 the right side of the forehead is a sign 
 of great riches both to men and wo- 
 men; on the other side quite the con- 
 trary. Moles on the right ear denote 
 riches and honor ; on the left, they signify 
 the reverse. 
 
 The signification of moles is derivable 
 from the mole books still published for 
 the satisfaction of the curious in secret 
 matters. 
 
 
 b m. 
 
 Decetnb'er 20. — Day breaks 
 
 6 1 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 8 7 
 
 — sets . , 
 
 . 3 53 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 . 5 59 
 
 Bectmfitv 21. 
 
 St. Thomas's Day. 
 In London, on this day, the common 
 councilmen and other officers of the 
 respective city wards are chosen by the 
 freemen inhabitant householders, at their 
 ■wardmotes. 
 
 In Herefordshire this is called "mump- 
 ing day," and the poor go round their 
 parishes begging corn and other doles.* 
 
 " Mother Balls." 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 Perhaps some short account of this 
 eccentric old duchess will not be unac- 
 ceptable to some of your readers. I live 
 but a very short distance from her late 
 cottage (hovel, I should sSy), and have 
 gathered the following from her near 
 neighbours :— Elizabeth Balls, or, as she 
 was more commonly called, mother Balls, 
 resided for some years in a wretched 
 hovel in the peaceful and retired village 
 of Havering at the bower, on the borders 
 
 • Fosbroke's British Monachism. 
 
 of Hainalt Forest, in the county of Essex, 
 a distance of about sixteen miles from the 
 Metropolis. Perhaps a more singular 
 being was never known : for the last 
 twenty years of her life she resided in 
 her wretched abode, accompanied by at 
 leat ten or twelve goats : these animals 
 were her constant companions ; if any of 
 them were sick she attended them with 
 the anxious solicitude of a parent. Some 
 of the neighbouring gentry, from motives 
 of humanity as well as curiosity, fre- 
 quently paid her a visit; she was, in 
 general, any thing but communicative, a 
 few incoherent and barely civil sentences 
 usually escaped her in answer to their 
 enquiries. It is Supposed that, a love 
 affair, in the time of her youth, caused 
 this strange alteration in her habits and 
 tnanners. At the time of her decease 
 she had a brother living in affluent cir- 
 cumstances, who took care while his un- 
 fortunate sister was living she should be 
 placed beyond the reach of poverty, and 
 who also gave her remains a decent inter- 
 ment. She used, during the winter, to 
 sit crouching with her goats before a huge 
 wood fire ; her skin was comple ely 
 changed to a yellowish brown from the 
 filth and smoke of her dwelling : she 
 chiefly lived on the produce of her goats, 
 their milk. She at length died, worn out 
 by extreme old age, and a few years ago 
 was buried in the church yard of the vil- 
 lage church, where she for years resided. 
 Her remains were attended to their last 
 resting place by nearly the whole popula- 
 tion of the place, very few of whose 
 inhabitants but remember " Mother Balls 
 the goat Woman." 
 
 . W. B 
 
 Gipsies. 
 
 From a dissertation on the Gipsies, by 
 Grellman, and the authorities he cites, 
 together with some striking proofs derived 
 from the language of the Gipsies, it is 
 presumable that they came originally from 
 Hindostan, where they are supposed to 
 have been of the lowest class of Indians, 
 namely Parias, or, as they are called in 
 Hindostan, Suders. They are thought to 
 have migrated about A. D. 1408, or 1409, 
 when Timur Beg ravaged India for the 
 purpose of spreading the Mahometan 
 religion, and so many thousands were 
 ma^de slaves and put to death, that a 
 universal panic took place, and a great 
 number of the terrified inhabitants endea- 
 
1481 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.^DECEMBER 21. 
 
 1482 
 
 voured to save themselves by fliglit. As 
 every part towards the north and east was 
 beset by the enemy, it is most probable 
 that Zinganen, the country belovir Multan, 
 to the mouth of the Indus, was the first 
 asylum and rendezvous of the fugitive 
 Suders. Here they were safe, and re- 
 mained so till Timur returned from his 
 , victories on the Ganges, when they first 
 entirely quitted the country, and probably 
 with them a considerable number of the 
 natives, which will explain the meaning 
 of their original name. By what track 
 they came to us cannot be ascertained. 
 If they went straight through the southern 
 Persian Deserts of Sigistan, Makran, and 
 Kirman, along the Persian Gulf to the 
 mouth of the Euphrates, from thence they 
 might get, by Bassora, into the . great 
 deserts of Arabia, afterwards into Arabia 
 Petrsea and so arrive in Egypt by the 
 Isthmus of Suis. If they had not been 
 in Egypt before they reached us, it is in-* 
 comprehensible how the report arose that 
 they were Egyptians. Harrison, in his 
 description of England prefixed to Holin- 
 shed's Chronicle, 1587, describing the 
 various sorts of, cheats practised by the 
 voluntary poor, after enumerating those 
 who maimed or disfigured their bodies by 
 sores, or counterfeited the guise of la- 
 bourers or serving men, or mariners seek- 
 ing for ships which they had not lost, to 
 extort charity, adds : " It is not yet full 
 three score years since this trade began ; 
 but how it hath prospered since that time 
 it is easy to judge, for they are now sup- 
 posed of one sex and another to amount 
 unto above ten thousand persons, as I 
 have heard reported. Moreover, in coun- 
 terfeiting Me^ypft'an Roges, they have de-r 
 vised a language among themselves which 
 they name .Canting ; but, by others, ped- 
 lers- French, a speech compact thirty years 
 since of English, and a great number of 
 odd words of their own devising, without 
 all order or reason ; and yet such is it as 
 none but themselves are able to under- 
 stand. The first deviser thereof was 
 banged by the neck, a just reward no 
 doubt for his deceits, and a common end 
 to all of that profession." 
 
 Browne, in his VulgarErrors, gives tliis 
 general account of the Gipsies : " They 
 are a kind of counterfeit Moors, to be 
 found in many parts of Europe, Asia, and 
 Africa. They are commonly siipposed to 
 have come from Egypt, from whence they 
 derive themselves. Munster discovered 
 in the letters and pass, which they ob- 
 
 tained from Sigismund the Emperor, that 
 they first came out of Lesser Egypt, that 
 having turned Apostates from Christianity 
 and relapsed into Pagan rites, some of 
 every family were enjoined this petiance, 
 to wander about the world. Aventinus 
 tells us, that they pretend, for this vaga- 
 bond course, a judgment of God upon 
 their forefathers, who refused to entertain 
 the Virgin Mary and Jesus, when she fled 
 into their country. Their first appearance 
 was in Germany since the year 1400." 
 Nor were they observed before in other 
 parts of Europe, as is deducible from 
 Munster, Genebrard, Crantsius, and Or- 
 telius." 
 
 In " The Art of Jugling and Le- 
 gerdemaine, " by S. R. 4to. 1612, is 
 the following account : " These kinde of 
 people about an hundred yeares agot, 
 about the twentieth yeare of king Henry 
 the Eight, began to gather an head, at the 
 first heere about the southerne parts, and 
 this, (as I am informed) and as I can 
 gather, was their beginning. Certaine 
 Egyptians, banished their cuntry (belike 
 not for their good conditions,) arrived 
 heere in England, who being excellent in 
 quaint tricks and devises, not known heere 
 at that time among us, were esteemed 
 and had in great admiration, for what with 
 strangeness of their attire and garments, 
 together with theiir sleights and legerde- 
 mains, they were spoke of farre and neere, 
 insomuch that many of our Englisli loy-i 
 terers joyned with them, arid in time 
 learned their crafie and cosening. The 
 speach which they used was the right 
 Egyptian Language, with whom our En- 
 glishmen conversing with, at least learned 
 their language. These people continuing 
 about the cuntry in this fashion, practising 
 their cosening art of fast and loose and 
 legerdemaine, purchased themselves great 
 credit among the cuntry people,-and got 
 much hy palmistry and telling of /ori«nes, 
 insoiiiuch they pitifully cosened the poor 
 cuntry girls, both of money, silver spones, 
 and the best of their apparell, or any 
 good thing they could make, onely to 
 heare their fortunes." Further, " Giles 
 Hather (for so was his name) together 
 with his woman. Kit Calot,in short space 
 had following them a pretty traine, he 
 terming himself the king of the Egip, 
 tians, and she the queene, ryding about 
 the cuntry at their pleasure uncontrolid." 
 The author then mentions the Statute 
 against them of the 1st and 2d of Philip 
 and Mary, on which he observes : " But 
 
1483 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.^DECEMBER 21. 
 
 1484 
 
 what a number were executed presently 
 upon this Statute, you would wonder : 
 yet, notwithstanding, all would not pre- 
 vaile ; but still they wandered as before, 
 up and down,, ajid meeting once in a 
 yeere at a place appointed — soiaetiroes at 
 
 the Devils A in Peake in Darbishire, 
 
 and otherwhiles at Ketbroke by Black- 
 heath, or elsewhere, as they agreed still 
 at their Meeting." Speaking of his own 
 time, he adds: "These fellowes, seeing 
 that no profit comes by wandring, but 
 hazard of their lives, do daily decrease 
 and breake oif their wonted societyj and 
 betake themselves, many of them, some 
 to be pedlers, some tinkers, some juglers, 
 and .some to one kinde of life or other." 
 
 The Gipsies spread into every country 
 of Europe. It would occupy too much 
 space to follow them teyond France, 
 where they appear to have settled very 
 early. Pasquier, in his '■" Recherches cte 
 la France," says, " On August 17, 1427, 
 came to Parb twelve penitents (penan- 
 eiers) as they called themselves, viz. a 
 duke, an earl, and ten men, all on horse- 
 back, and calling themselves good chris- 
 tians. They were of Lower Egypt, and 
 gave out that, not long before, the chris- 
 tians had subdued their country, and 
 obliged them to embrace Christianity, or 
 put them to death. Those who were 
 baptized were great lords in their pwn 
 country, and hstd a king an(^ queen there. 
 Some time after their conversion, the 
 Saracens overran their country and obliged 
 them to renounce Christianity. When the 
 emperor of Germany, the king of Poland, 
 and other christian princes, heard this, 
 they fell upon them and obliged them all, 
 both great and small, to quit their 
 country, and go to the pope at Rome, 
 who enjoined them seven years' penance 
 to Vvander over the world without lying 
 in a bed ; every bishop and abbot to give 
 them once ten livres tournois, and he gave 
 them letters to this purpose, and his 
 blessing. They had been wandering five 
 years when they came to Paris. They 
 were lodged by the police out of the 
 city, at Chapel St. Denis. Almost all 
 had their ears bored, and one or two 
 silver rings in each, which they said was 
 esteemed an ornament in their country. 
 The men wei;e very black, their hair 
 curled; the women remarkably ugly and 
 back, all their faces scarred (deplayez) 
 their hair black, like a horse's tail, their 
 only habit an oldshaggy garment (flossoye) 
 tied ov°r their shoulders with a cloth or 
 
 cord-sash, and under it a poor petticoat 
 or shift. In short they were the poorest 
 wretches that had ever been seen in 
 France; and, notwithstanding their po- 
 verty> there were among them women 
 who, by looking into people's hands told 
 their fortunes et meirent contens en pbt- 
 sieurs mariages ; for they said, thy wife 
 has played thee false (Ta femrae I'a fait 
 coup) and what wets worse they picked 
 people's pockets of their money and got it 
 into their own by telling these things by 
 art, magic, or the intervention of the 
 devil, or by a certain knack." Thus Pas- 
 quier. It is added that they were ex- 
 pelled from France in 1561. 
 
 The Gipsies were banished from Eng- 
 land by Act of Parliament, so early as 
 22d Henry VIII. By statutes in 1st and 
 2d Philip and Mary, and 5th Elizabeth, 
 persons importing them were to forfeit 
 £40 ; and if the Egyptians remained one 
 month in the kingdom, or if any person 
 fourteen years old, whether natural-born 
 subject or stranger, were seen or found in 
 the fellowship of such Egyptians, or had 
 disguised him or herself like them, for one 
 month at one or several times, it was 
 felony without benefit of clergy. And 
 sir Matthew Hale says, that at one Suf- 
 folk assize, no less than thirteen persons 
 were executed upon these Statutes a few 
 years before the Restoration. 
 
 In Scotland they seem to have enjoyed 
 some indulgence : for a writ of Privy 
 Seal, dated 1594, supported John Faw, 
 lord and earl of Little Egypt, in the 
 execution of justice on his company and 
 folk, conformable to the laws of Egypt, 
 and in punishing certain persons there 
 named, who rebelled against him, left , 
 him, robbed him, and refused to re- 
 turn home with him. James's subjects, 
 were commanded to assist in apprehend- 
 ing them, and in assisting Faw and his 
 adherents to return home. There is a like 
 writ in his favor from Mary queen of 
 Scots, 1553; and in 1554 he obtained a 
 pardon for the murder of Nunan Small. 
 So that it appears he had staid long in 
 Scotland. The Faws had been previously 
 for some time ia England, and from him 
 this kind of strolling people might receive 
 the name of "Faw Gang," which they 
 afterwards continued to retain. 
 
 There is a well-known Scottish song 
 entitled " Johnny Faa, the Gypsie Lad- 
 die." An advertisement appeared in the 
 Newcastle Courant, July 27, 1754, offer- 
 ing a reward ,for the apprehending of 
 
1485 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 22. 
 
 Haa 
 
 Joha Fall, and Margaret liis wife, Wil- 
 liam Fall and Jane, otherwise Ann his 
 wife, &c., commonly called or known by 
 the names of " Fawes," &c. Gipsies still 
 continue to be called " Faws" in the 
 north of England. 
 
 Gay, in his pastorals, spewing of a 
 girl who is slighted by her lOver, thus de- 
 scribes the Gipsies : — 
 
 Last Friday's eve, when as the sun was set, 
 I, near yon style, three sallow Gipsies met ; 
 , Upon my hand ihey cast a poring look, / 
 
 Bid me beware, and thrice their heads they 
 
 shook : 
 They said that many crosses I must prove, 
 Some in my worldly gain, but most in love. 
 
 Mr. Rogers, in his Pleasures of Me- 
 mory, also describes the Gipsey : — 
 
 '* Sown by yon hazel copse, at evening, blaz'd 
 The Gipsey's faggot. — There we stood and 
 
 gaz'd ; 
 Gaz'd on her snn-bnmt face with silent awe. 
 Her tatter'd mantle, «nd her hood of straw : 
 Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er ; 
 The drowsy brood that on her back she bore, 
 Imps in the bam with mousipg owlet bred. 
 From rifled roost at nightly revel fed ; 
 Whose dark eyes flash'd thro' locks of blackesit 
 
 shade, * 
 
 "When in the breeze the distant watch-dog 
 
 bay'd : 
 And heroes fled the Sybil's mutter'd call, 
 "Whose elfin prowess scal'd the orchard wall. 
 As o'er my palm the silver piece she drew. 
 And trac'd the line of life with searching view. 
 How throbbed my fluttering pulse with hopes 
 
 and fears. 
 To learn the colour of my future years.*' 
 
 Mr. Hoyland's work on the Gipsies, is 
 tne account last published of this singular 
 race, who, by the operation of the laws 
 against vagrancy, are fast disappearing.* 
 
 
 
 b. m. 
 
 December 21.- 
 
 — Day breaks 
 
 6 1 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 , 8 7 
 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 , 3 53 
 
 
 Twilight ends , 
 
 , 5 59 
 
 Betembtv 22, 
 
 lONGEVITY. ' 
 
 December 22, 1753, died the Rev. Mr. 
 Braithwaite of Carlisle, at the age of 
 110. In 1652, he commenced singing- 
 boy in the cathedral, and had been sing- 
 ing upwards of 100 years. 
 
 • Branl, 
 
 A Dream. 
 On the 22d of December, 1754, died 
 William Anne Van Keppel, earl of Al- 
 bemarle, ambassador st the court of 
 France. When his widow was waited upon 
 by their son, who succeeded to the title, 
 to acquaint her with the earl's death, she 
 said, " you need not tell me that your 
 father's dead ; for I dreamed it last 
 night."* 
 
 ABRAHAM SHARP. 
 
 In the year 1742, died Abraham Sharp, 
 an eminent mathematician, mechanic, and 
 astronomer, descended from an ancient 
 family at Little Horton, near Bradford, 
 in the west riding of Yorkshire. He was 
 apprenticed to a merchant at Manchester ; 
 but his genius and disposition for the study 
 of the mathematics, became so remark- 
 able that his engagement was cancelled, 
 and he removed to Liverpool, where he 
 gave himself up wholly to mathematics, 
 astronomy, &c., and opened a school, in 
 which he taught writing and accounts, 
 until he fell into company with a London 
 merchant, with whom the famous astrono- 
 mer, Mr. Flamsteed, lived. That he 
 might be personally acquainted with that 
 eminent man, Sharp engaged himself as 
 a book-keeper to the Londoner, and con- 
 tracted an intimate friendship with Mr. 
 Flamsteed, by wbose interest he obtained 
 a better situation in Chatham dock-yard, 
 where he continued till Flamsteed called 
 him to his assistance in contriving and 
 fitting up the astronomical apparatus iif 
 the Royal Observatory at Greenwich. 
 
 He assisted Flamsteed in making ob- 
 servations (with the mural arc, which 
 Sharp is believed to have contrived and 
 graduated, of nearly seven feet radius, an4 
 140 degrees on the limb) of- the meridi- 
 onal zenith distances of the fixed stars, 
 with the times of their transits over the 
 meridian j together with observations of 
 the sun and moon's diameters, eclipses, 
 variations of the compass, &c. From" 
 continued observation of the stars, at 
 night, his health was impaired, and he 
 retired to his house at Horton ; where he 
 fitted up an observatory of his own, having 
 first constructed a curious engine for 
 turning all kinds of work in wood or 
 brass, with a mandrel for turning ovals, 
 roses, wreathed pillars, &c. He made 
 most of the tools used by joiners, elock- 
 
 ^ G^otleman's Magazine. 
 
1487 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 22. 
 
 1488 
 
 makers, opticians, and mathematical in- 
 strument makers. The limbs of his 
 large equatorial instrument, sextant, quad- 
 rant, &c., he graduated with the nicest 
 accuracy, by diagonal divisions, into 
 degrees and minutes. The telescopes he 
 used were all of his own making, and 
 the lenses ground, figured, and adjusted 
 by his own hands. 
 
 ' About this time Mr. Sharp further 
 assisted Flamsteed in calculating most of 
 the tables in the second volume of his 
 " Historia Ccelesfis," and made the curi- 
 ous drawings of the charts of all the 
 constellations visible in our hemisphere, 
 with the still more excellent drawings of 
 the planispheres of the northern and 
 sputhern cpnsteH^tion^. He published, 
 " Geometry. Improved by a large and 
 accurate table of segments of circles," &c. 
 His treatise of "Polyedra, or solid bodies of 
 many bases," &c., contains copper-plates 
 neatly engraved by himself. The models 
 of these Polyedra he cut put in a most 
 exact manner in bpxvwood. Few or 
 none of th^ mathematical instrument- 
 ipakers cpuld exceed him in exactly gra- 
 duating, or neatly engraving any rnathe- 
 matical or astronomical instrument. He 
 undertook the quadrature of the circle 
 from two different series, proving the 
 truth thereof to seventy-two figures, 
 as seen in Sherwin's tables. He also la- 
 boriously calculated the logarithraetic 
 sines, tangents, and secants of the seconds 
 to every minute of the first degree of the 
 quadrant. 
 
 Mr Sharp corresponded with Flam- 
 steed, sir Isaac Newton, Dr. Halley, Dr. 
 Wallis, Hodgson, Sherwin, and most of 
 the eminent astronopiers of the times. 
 lie was a bachelor, very thin, of a weakly 
 constitution, and was quite superannuated 
 three or four years before he died, at the 
 age of ninety-one. He employed four 
 or five apartments in his house for differ- 
 ent purposes, into which none could 
 possibly enter at any time without his 
 permission. He was visited rarely by 
 any, except two gentlemen of Bradford, 
 the one a mathematician and the other 
 an ingenious apothecary, who gave signa,l 
 of their approach by rubbing a stone 
 against a certain part of the house. Al- 
 though descended from the family of arch- 
 bishop Sharp, yet he attended the dissent- 
 ing chapel at Bradford, of which he was 
 a meipber, every Sun.day, when he took 
 care to be provided with plenty of half- 
 pence, which, during his walk to the 
 chapel, he suffered to be taken singly out 
 
 of his hand, held' behind him, by a nuni-- 
 ber of poor people who followed him, 
 without his looking back, or asking a 
 question. 
 
 Mr. Sharp was very irregular at his 
 meals, and remarkably sparing in his 
 diet, which he frequently took in the fol- 
 lowing manner ■.' — A square hole commu^ 
 nicated between the room where hfe was 
 generally employed in calculations and 
 another chamber or room in the house 
 vvhere a servant could enter ; before tnis 
 said hole was a sliding board ; the servant 
 placed his victuals in the hole, without 
 speaking, or making the least noise, and 
 when at leisure he visited his cupboard 
 to see what it afforded. It often hap- 
 pened that breakfast, dinner^ and supper, 
 remained untouched when the servant, 
 went to remove what was left. In an old 
 oak table, at which he sat to write, cavities 
 were worn by the rubbing of his elbows. 
 One of his editors call| him "the'incom- 
 parable Mr. Sharp ;" and adds that " liis 
 tables are sufficient to represent the cir- 
 cumference of the globe of the earth so, 
 truly as not to err the breadth of a grain 
 of sand in the whole !" 
 
 St. Fillan's Bell. 
 
 In sir John Sinclair's Statistical Ac- 
 count of Scotland, the rev. Mr. Patrick 
 Stuart, minister of Killin parish, Perthr 
 shire, says, " There is a bell belonging tp 
 the chapel of St. Fillan, that was in high 
 reputation among the votaries of that saint 
 in old times. It seems to be of some 
 mixed metal. It is about a foot high, 
 and of an oblong form. It usually lay 
 on a grave-stone in the church-yard. 
 When mad people were brought to be 
 dipped in the saint's pool, it was neces- 
 sary to, perform certain ceremonies, in 
 which there was a mixture of druidism 
 and popery. After remaining all night 
 in the chapel, bound with ropes, the bell 
 was set upon their head with great so- 
 lemnity. It was the popular opinion, 
 that, if stolen, it would extricate itself out 
 of the thief's hands, and return home, 
 ringing all the way. For some years past 
 this bell has been locked up, to prevent 
 iti being used for superstitious purposes.'' 
 
 December 22. — Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 
 -^ sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m. 
 6 1 
 8 8 
 3 52 
 
 5 ;.o 
 
1489 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.-DECEMBER t. 
 
 itao 
 
 OLNEY BRIDGE, BUCKINGHAMSHIRE. 
 
 Cowpee's Walks. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Ill the early part of the present year I 
 visited Glney, in Bucks, which will no 
 doubt be remembered as having been the 
 abiding place of the poet Cowper during 
 the greater part of his poetical life. 
 Though a native of Olney, I had not seen 
 it for many years ; but I recollect, that 
 when a boy at school, I used frequently, 
 with my- fellows, to " go walking " 
 in " Weston Park," the place where the 
 cliief scenes described in the " Task " aro 
 laid. These scenes were indelibly im 
 pressed on ray remembrance, and I wished 
 to see the changes that time had made. 
 
 In the opening of the fourth book of 
 the Task, Cowper mentions Olney bridge, 
 which. 
 
 " with its wearisome but needful length. 
 
 Bestrides the wintry flood.'* 
 
 This bridge is about to be demolished 
 and to be replaced by another constructed 
 on more modern principles: hence future 
 travellers may look in vain for the bridge 
 of Cowper. 
 
 To give an idea of this bridge I have 
 sent a representation of it as it appearpri 
 two years ago, for time, till then, had 
 made no alteration in it since Cowper 
 himself saw it. The church in the dis- 
 tance is that of Emberton, from which he 
 heard the sound of the " village bells." 
 The " twanging horn " has been long si- 
 lent, and Cowper's "herald of a noisy 
 world," has now to perform his journey 
 on foot, spite of his increased years and 
 infirmities. I had an interview with this 
 
1491 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— .DECEMBER 23, 
 
 1492 
 
 worthy at the post office at OIney ; he is 
 familiarly called " Dick Surrell," and is 
 the very person who was "on the road" 
 in the days of the poet. Poor Dick is 
 hastening fast to the " house of his 
 fathers," and in the course of a few short 
 years, like the bridge with which he is 
 associated, will be seen no more of men. 
 Weston house has been pulled down by 
 the present proprietor of the estate, and — 
 would it be believed ? — he also commenced 
 cutting down the fine timber in the park, 
 and meditated the destruction of the 
 " bird cage walk " beneath the branches 
 of whose trees, it was the supreme delight 
 of Cowper to " wend his way," it was 
 '* between the upriglit shafts of these tall elms," 
 that Cowper beheld "the thresher at his 
 task;" but this spoliation has been ar- 
 rested, and the greater part remains un- 
 molested. The house that Cowper in- 
 habited at Olney is now tenantlessj its 
 last occupant was Mr. Aspray, a surgeon. 
 The summer-house, in contemplating 
 which Cowper exclaims, 
 
 '* Had I the choice of sublunary good. 
 What could I wish that I enjoy not here ?" 
 is situated in the garden attached to this 
 house ; it is now quite neglected, and 
 will soon, I fear, share the fate of the 
 bridge. If I remember rightly, there is 
 a view of this interesting spot in the 
 Ijoery-Day Book. I visited the field 
 where stood the poplar? whose fall he so 
 feelingly laments in some exquisite verses 
 commencing, 
 
 '* The poplars are felVd, farewell to the shade." 
 There are now standing, of what was 
 once a fine row, two only of these trees; 
 the field in which they are situated is 
 between Olney and Lavendon mill, and 
 belongs to Mr. Perry of the mill; it is 
 galled the " Lynch close." 
 
 An old woman at Olney told me she 
 remembered Cowper perfectly well, "He 
 )vas a sorrowful-looking man," she said, 
 i' and very particular in avoiding persons 
 ^n his walks — he would turn down any 
 path that presented itself to avoid being 
 seen." She remembers that he was ac- 
 pompanied in his walks by a small 
 spotted spaniel, no doubt " Beau," two 
 pf whose feats he has immortalized in two 
 beautiful pieces. 
 
 J. L. C. 
 
 J^tctmbtv 23. 
 
 December 23, 1743, died, aged sevenly- 
 nine, rear-admiral sir John Jennings, 
 
 governor of Greenwich Hospital. Sir 
 John Jennings gave to Greenwich Hos- 
 pital the slatue of king George II., 
 which stands in the great square. It was 
 sculptured by Rysbrack, out of a single 
 block of wl ite marble, which weighed 
 eleven tons, end had been taken from the 
 French by admiral sir George Rook. In 
 the governor'K apartments there is a por- 
 trait of sir J chn Jennings by Richard- 
 son. 
 
 Bki <al Smusgling. 
 
 A person in Flanders, who carried on 
 a smuggling traffic with Brabant lace, 
 employed a large dog for this purpose in- 
 the following manner. Having first shorn 
 him of his liair, he wrapped the lace 
 round his body, which he covered with 
 the skin of another dog of the same size 
 and color, which fitted so very exact that 
 no eye could detect the imposition. He 
 then required only to say to his dog, 
 " march, friend ;" upon which the animal 
 immediately set off, and running quickly 
 through the gates of Malines, or Valen- 
 ciennes, escaped the notice of the officers 
 stationed there to intercept smugglers. 
 When the dog had got out of the town 
 he waited at some distance from the walls 
 for his master to overtake him, who thus 
 always succeeded in conveying his peril- 
 ous cargo to the place of its destination.. 
 The profits made by this ingenious smug- 
 gler were so considerable, that within five 
 or six years he accumulated a large pro- 
 perty. Some of his neighbours being 
 envious of him on this account, and know- 
 ing something of the stratagem which he 
 used, gave information of if, together with 
 a description of the dog, to the excise- 
 officers, who now kept a diligent look out 
 after him. But the dog seemed to read 
 in the eyes of the excise officers the sus- 
 picions they harboured against him, and 
 contrived, in spite of every impediment, 
 to elude their vigilance : sometimes he 
 leaped over the ramparts, sometimes he 
 swam across the moat, sometimes he 
 passed them unobserved by creeping 
 through under a carriage, or between the 
 legs of some passenger ; and if he saw 
 no prospect of success at one gate of the 
 town he ran to another, so that he never 
 failed to accomplish his purpose. At 
 length, one morning, as he was swim- 
 ming across the moat at Malines, three 
 
 » Noble. 
 
1493 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 24. 
 
 1494 
 
 slugs were fired at him, which killed him 
 in the water. Lace to the amount of 
 more than five thousand dollars was 
 found upon him.* 
 
 December 23. — Day breaks 
 Sun rises 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends 
 
 h. m, 
 6 1 
 8 7 
 3 53 
 5 59 
 
 JBnmibev 24. 
 
 Christmas Eve, 
 
 In the "Bellman's Treasury, 1707," is 
 the following, — 
 
 Upon Christmas Eve. 
 
 Pp Boll, Peg, Susan ; you all spoke to me 
 Betimes to call you, and *tis now past three j 
 Get up on your but-ends, and rub your eyes. 
 For shame no longer lye a-bed, but rise; 
 The pewter still to scow'r, and house to clean. 
 And you a-bed ! good girls, what is't you 
 mean? 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 Dec. 8, 1827. 
 
 No where does the Christmas season 
 produce more heart-inspiring mirth than 
 among the inhabitants of Cumberland. 
 
 The farmer may be seen with his hands 
 enveloped in huge mittens, thrust half 
 way into his breeches' pockets, and his 
 fustian jacket buttoned well up under his 
 chin, jogging merrily along to his daily 
 labor, singing or whistling Els he goes, 
 whilst his jolly red face, scarcely perceiv- 
 able on account of the dense fog, appears 
 'ike "the sun dimly seen through a rtiist." 
 The dairy maid, with her" geggin" (milk- 
 pail) in her hand, hurries, shivering through 
 the cold, to the " byre, " (cow-house), 
 where the delightful smell and genial 
 warmth of the cows which she sits down 
 to milk,' occasion her to observe "it's 
 worth while coming thro' t' snaw, a' pur- 
 pose to enjoy t' pleesur o' gittin amang t' 
 Rye." This is contradicted. The lad 
 w,ho is " mucking the byre," and who is 
 obliged to issue out at the door every mi- 
 nute to throw the dirt from his " rauck- 
 foik''nn to "t'middin"(dunghill) grumbles 
 and says, " she wad'nt say sae, if she hed 
 his wark to do ;" and she of course, from 
 some old grudge she has against him, is 
 greatly pleased at his mortification. 
 
 • Brewster's Zoological Anecdotes. 
 
 The "tarns" (small lakes or ponds 
 may be seen covered with boys, some with 
 wisps of straw brushing off the snow> 
 others sliding in their wooden clogs, 
 which are more convenient for this pur- 
 pose than shoes. They exhorting each 
 other to " keep the pot boiling," till per- 
 haps one of them falls, and the next, on 
 account of the velocity, not being able to 
 stop, stumbles over him, and so on, until 
 most of them lie rolling in a heap together, 
 to the great joy of their comrades, who 
 cry out " my pot boils over," and with all 
 their might endeavour to prevent them 
 from getting up. Sliding by moonlight 
 is very common here, because the rnen, 
 not having been able to leave work in the 
 day time, think it a fine opportunity to 
 enjoy their favorite amusement of " shure- 
 lin." 
 
 On stepping into the " laith " (bam) 
 we may there see two stout hearty 
 fellows opposite to each other, alter- 
 nately-belaboring tlie ground with their 
 flails till it rings again, whilst the straw, 
 chaff, and corn fly about in all directions. 
 At intervals they stop to pay their respects 
 to a brown jug in the corner, which con- 
 tains either home-brewed ale or churned 
 milk. 
 
 In the farm-house we may find the 
 good dame and her rosy-cheeked daughters 
 busied in preparing mince-pies, raised 
 pies, tarts, and other good things, which 
 indicate that something particular is about 
 to take place. 
 
 In short with C(iristmas eve commences 
 a regular series of " festivities and merry 
 makings." Night after night, if you want 
 the farmer or his family, you must look for 
 them any where but at home ; and in the 
 different houses that you pass at one, two, 
 or three in the morning, should you hap- 
 pen to be out so late, you will find candles 
 and fires still unextinguished. At Christ- 
 mas, every farmer gives two " feasts," one 
 called "t' ould foaks neet, '' which is foE 
 those who are married, and the other " t' 
 young foaks neet," for those who are; 
 single. Suppose you and I, Sir, take thei 
 liberty of attending one of these feast^ 
 unasked (which by the bye is considered 
 no liberty at all in Cumberland) and se^ 
 what is going on. Upon entering the room 
 we behold sevefal card parties, some at 
 « whist," others at " loo" (there called 
 •Mant"), or any other game that may suit 
 their fancy. You will be surprised on 
 looking over the company to find that 
 there is no distinction of persons. Mas- 
 
1495 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 35, 
 
 1496 
 
 ters and servants, rich and poor, humble 
 and lofty, all mingle together without re- 
 straint — all cares are forgotten — and each 
 one seems to glory in his own enjoyment 
 and in that of his feilow-creatures. It is 
 pleasant to find ourselves in such society, 
 especially as it is rarely in one's life that 
 such opportunities offer. Cast your eyes 
 towards the side board, and there see that 
 large bowl of punch, which the goodwife 
 is inviting her guests to partake of, with 
 apples, oranges, biscuits, and other agree- 
 able eatables in plenty. The hospitable 
 master welcomes us with a smiling coun- 
 tenance and requests us to take seats and 
 join one of the tables. 
 
 In due time some one enters, to tell the 
 company that supper is waiting in the 
 next room. Thither we adjourn, and find 
 the raised and mince pies, all sorts of 
 tarts, and all cold — except the welcomes 
 and entreaties — with cream, ale, &c., in 
 abundance ; in the midst of all a large 
 goose pie, which seems to say " come and 
 cut agam." 
 
 After supper the party returns to the 
 X!ard room, sit there for two or three hours 
 -longer, and afterwards make the best of 
 their way home, to take a good long nap, 
 and prepare for the same scene the next 
 night. At these " feasts " intoxication is 
 entirely out of the question — ^it n^ver 
 happens. 
 
 Such are the innocent amusetrients of 
 these people ; and, hoping that you may 
 some time have an opportunity of visiting 
 this part of the country, and of being 
 present in reality at the scenes I have de- 
 scribed, 
 
 I remain, 
 
 Sir, Yours respectfully, 
 A. W. R 
 
 When the sweet hawthorn bower is bare. 
 And bleak and cheerless is the air ; 
 When all seems desolate around, 
 Christmas advances o'er the ground. 
 
 When Tom at eve comes home from plough. 
 And brings the misletoe's green bough," 
 With milk-white berries spotted o'er. 
 And shakes.it tlie sly maids before. 
 Then hangs the trophy up on high. 
 Be sure that CHRISTMAS-TIDE is nigh. 
 
 When Hal, the woodman, in his clogs. 
 Bears home the huge unwieldy logs. 
 That, hissing on the smould'ring fire, 
 Flames out at last a quiv'ring spire ; 
 When in his hat the holly stands. 
 Old Christmas musters up his bands. 
 
 When cluster'd round the fire at night. 
 Old William talks of ghost and sprite. 
 And, as a distant out-house gate 
 Slams by the wind, they fearful wait, 
 While some each shadowy nook explore. 
 Then Christmas pauses at the door. 
 
 When Dick comes shiv'ring from the yard. 
 And says the pond is frozen hard, 
 While from his hat, all white with snow. 
 The moisture trickling drops below; 
 While carols sound, the night to cheer. 
 Then Christmas and his train are here. 
 
 There is a pleasant little two-shilling 
 volume, entitled " Christmas and the New 
 Year ; a masque for the fire side ; by 
 Edwin Lees ; second edition, " printed at 
 Worcester. It contains the following — 
 
 Signs of Christmas. 
 
 When on the ham's thatch'd roof is seen 
 The moss in tufts of liveliest green ; 
 When Roger to the wood pile goes. 
 And, as he turns, his fingers blows ; 
 When all around is cold and drear. 
 Be sure that Christmas-tide is near. 
 
 When up the garden walk in vain 
 Wq seek for Flora's lovely train ; 
 
 
 h. m. 
 
 imber 34. — Day breaks 
 
 , 6 1 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 8 r 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 3 53 
 
 Twilight ends 
 
 5 59 
 
 MtctmMv 25. 
 
 Christmas Day. 
 
 To the large accounts in the Emery- 
 Day Book concerning the modes of celer 
 brating this festival very little can be 
 added. 
 
 25th December, 1676, Sir Matthew 
 Hale died. He was born at Olderlay, 
 in Gloucestershire, the first of November, 
 1609. On entering life he thought upon 
 seeking his fortune in the army, but was 
 persuaded to relinquish his purpose, and 
 follow the law, by Mr. Serjeant Grenville, 
 who was conducting a suit for him at th^ 
 time. On the 8th of November, 1629, 
 he was admitted a student at Lincoln's 
 Inn, and, by indefatigable industry and 
 attention, he attained the highest honours 
 of the profession. 
 
4&f 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 35. 
 
 1496 
 
 Sir Matthew Hale was a judge of 
 great ability and inflexible integrity. 
 Two soldiers were tried before him for 
 murder under the following circumstances. 
 — An inhabitant of Lincoln who had 
 been of the king's party was met with a 
 fowling-piece in his hand, by one of the 
 soldiers. The soldier told him that the 
 protector's orders were that none of the 
 king's party should be allowed to carry 
 iarms, and proceeded to force the fowling- 
 piece from him ; they wrestled, till the 
 man threw his opponent, and then walked 
 away. The soldier met a comrade, to 
 whom he related the circumstance, and 
 Ihey set off in search of the man, for the 
 purppse of revenge. They found and 
 attacked him; and, whilst one of the 
 soldiers was straggling to get possession 
 of the arms, the other went behind the 
 stranger, and ran him through the body. 
 The jury found one of the soldiers guilty 
 of manslaughter, and the other of murder, 
 Colonel Whaley, the commander of the 
 garrison, attended in court, and stated 
 that the Lincoln, man had been killed in 
 consequence of disobedience to the pro- 
 tector's orders, and therefore the soldier 
 had merely performed his duty. But 
 Hale was neither convinced by the 
 colonel's arguments, nor daunted by his 
 threats : he passed sentence of death on 
 the culprit, and ordered speedy execution 
 ~ lest a reprieve might be granted, and the 
 ends of justice defeuted. 
 
 Hale's Rules. 
 
 Sir Matthew Hale, upon bis becoming 
 judge, prescribed to himself the following 
 rules, which Bishop Burnet copied from 
 his holograph, viz. 
 
 Things necessary to he Had continually in 
 remembrance. 
 
 1st. That in the administration of jus- 
 tice I am intrusted for God, the king, 
 and my country, and therefore 
 
 2ndly., That it be done first, uprightly ; 
 secondly, deliberately; thirdly, reso- 
 lutely. 
 
 3rdly. That I rest not on my own under- 
 standing and strength, but implore and 
 rest upon the directoin and strength of 
 God. 
 
 4ihly. That in the execution of justice I 
 carefully lay aside my own passions, 
 and not give way to them however pro- 
 voked. 
 
 Sthly. That I be wholly intent upon the 
 business I am about, remitting all 
 
 other cares and thoughts as unseason- 
 able interruptions. 
 
 ethly. That I suffer not myself to be pre- 
 possessed with any judgment at all, 
 till the whole business and both parties 
 be heard. 
 
 ?thly. That I never engage myself at the 
 beginning of any one cause, but reserve 
 myself ufiprejudiced, till the whole 
 be heard. 
 
 8thly. That in business capital, though 
 my nature prompt n\e to pity, yet to 
 consider 'that there is also a pity due 
 to my country. 
 
 9thly. That I be not too rigid in matters 
 purely conscientious, where all the 
 harm is diversity of judgment. 
 
 lOthly. That I be not biassed with com- 
 passion to the poor, nor favour for the 
 rich, in points of justice. 
 
 llthly. That popular or court applause, 
 or distaste, have no influence in any 
 thing I do in point of distribution of 
 justice. 
 
 t2lhly. Not to be solicitous what men 
 will say or think, so long as I keep 
 myself exactly according to the rules 
 of justice. 
 
 13thly If in criminals it be a measuring 
 cast, to incline to mercy and acquittal. 
 
 14thly. In criminals that consist merely 
 in words, where no harm ensues, mod- 
 eration is no injustice. 
 
 ISthly. In criminals of blood, if the fact 
 be evident, severity is justice. 
 
 16thly. To abhor all private solicitations, 
 of what kind soever, and by whom 
 soever, in matters depending. 
 
 ITthly. To charge my servants, 1, not to 
 interpose in any business whatsoever ; 
 2, not to take more than their known 
 fees ; S, not to give any undue prece- 
 dence to causes; 4, not to recommend 
 counsel. 
 
 1 8thly. To be short and sparing at meals, 
 that I may be the fitter for business. 
 
 In Swan's Jourtial of a Voyage up the 
 Mediterranean, 1826, is the following ac- 
 count of a Greek Christmas. — "Thursday 
 January 6th, this being Christmas day 
 with the Greek Catholics, their churches 
 are adorned in the gayest manner, I en- 
 tered one, in which a sort of raree-show 
 had been set up, illumed with a multitude 
 of candles : the subject of it was the birth 
 of Christ, who was represented in the 
 back ground by a little waxen figure 
 wrapped up in embroidery, and reclining 
 
1499 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 1500 
 
 upon an embroidered cushion, which 
 rested upon another of pink satin; this 
 was supposed to be the manger where he 
 was born. Behind the image two paper 
 bulls' heads looked unutterable things. 
 On the right was the Virgin Mary, and on 
 the left one of the eastern Magi. Paper 
 clouds, in which the paper heads of num- 
 berless cherubs appeared, enveloped the 
 whole ; while from a pasteboard cottage 
 stalked a wooden monk, with dogs, and 
 sheep, and camels ; goats, lions, and 
 lambs ; here walked a maiden upon a 
 stratum of sods and dried earth, and 
 there a shepherd flourishing aloft his pas 
 toral staff. The construction of these 
 august figures was chiefly Dutch: they 
 were intermixed with china images and 
 miserable daubs on paper. In the centre 
 a real fountain, in miniature, squirted 
 forth water to the ineffable delight of 
 crowds of prostrate worshippers." 
 
 "gloria in excehis.'' The shepherds, hear- 
 ing this, advanced to the stable, singing 
 "peace, good will," 4'C- As soon as they 
 entered it, two priests in dalmaticks, as if 
 women (quasi obstetrices) who were sta- 
 tioned at the stable, said " Whom seek 
 ye ? " The shepherds answered, accord- 
 ing to the angelic annunciation, " Our 
 Saviour Christ." The women then open- 
 ing the curtain exhibited the boy, saying, 
 " The little one is here as the prophet 
 Isaiah said. " They then showed the 
 mother, saying, " Behold the Virgin," &c. 
 Upon these exhibitions, they bowed and 
 worshipped the boy, and saluted his 
 mother. The office ended by their return- 
 ing to the choir, and singing. Alleluia, 
 &c.* 
 
 At Rouen, after the Te' Deum, in the 
 nocturnal office or vigil of Christmas, the 
 ecclesiastics celebrated the " office of the 
 shepherds" in the following manner : — 
 
 The image of the virgin Mary was 
 placed in a stable prepared behind the al- 
 tar. A boy from above, before the choir, 
 in the likeness of an angel, announced the 
 nativity to. certain canons or vicars who 
 entered as shepherds, through the great 
 door of the choir, clothed in tunicks and 
 amesses. Many boys in the vaults of the 
 church, like angels, then began the 
 
 In catholic times, at Christmas, people 
 presented loaves to the priest oh the au" 
 thority of the direction in Leviticus xxii. 
 "You shall offer two loaves to the priest," 
 &c. At feasts a whole boar (whence 
 brawn at this season) was put upon the 
 table, sometimes it was richly gilded^f 
 The custom of bringing in the boar's 
 head is well known, and to this day it is 
 practised with much ceremony at Queen's 
 College, Oxford. The following extract 
 from the " Oxford Sausage " may be 
 relished. 
 
 * Fosbroke's British Monachism. 
 t Ibid. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 In liONOUR OF THE CELEBRATION OF THE BOAH's HEAD, 
 AT queen's college, OXFORD. 
 " Tain Maiti quam Mercurio." 
 I sing not of Roman or Grecian mad games, 
 The Pythian, Olympic, and such like hard names ; 
 Your patience awhile, with submission I beg • 
 I strive but to honor the feast of Coll. Reg. 
 
 Derry down, down, down, derry down. 
 
 No Thracian brawls at our rites ere prevail, 
 
 We temper our mirth with plain sober mild ale ; 
 
 The tricks of old Circe deter us from wine ; 
 
 Though we honor a boar, we wont make ourselves svAne 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 Great Milo was famous for slaying his ox, 
 Yet he prov'd but an ass in cleaving of blocks ; 
 But we had a hero for all things was fit. 
 Our motto displays both his valor and wi* 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
ISOl 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 1604 
 
 Stout Hercules labor'd, and look'd mighty big,' 
 When he slew the half-starved Erymanthian pig ; 
 But we can relate such a stratagem taken. 
 That the stoutest of boars couid not save his own bacon. 
 
 Defry down, &c. 
 So dreadful this bristle-back'd foe did appear. 
 You'd have sworn he had got the wrong pig by the ear, 
 But instead of avoiding the mouth of the beast. 
 He ramra'd in a volume, and cried — Grecum est. 
 
 In this gallant action such fortitude shown is, 
 As proves him no coward, nor tender Adonis ; 
 No armour but logic, by which we may find 
 That logic's the bulwark of body and mind. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 Ye 'squires, that fear neither hills nor rough rocks. 
 And think you're full wise when you out-wit a fox ; 
 Enrich your poor brains and expose them no more, 
 Learn Greek, and seek glory from hunting the boar 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 The following is a brief extract concerning 
 the festivities formerly observed on Christ- 
 mas day at the Inner Temple. Service 
 in the church being ended, the gentlemea 
 presently repaired into the hall and break- 
 fested on brawn, mustard, and Malmsey. 
 At the first course, at dinner, was served 
 .p a fair and large boreshead upon a sil- 
 ver platter, with minjtralsye.* This cus- 
 tom is still observed at Queen's College 
 Oxford, and tradition represents this 
 usage as a commemoration of an act of 
 valor performed by a student of the college 
 who while walking in the neighbouring 
 forest of Shotover and reading Aristotle 
 was suddenly attacked by a wild boar. 
 The furious beast came open mouthed 
 upon the youth, who, however, very 
 courageously, and with a happy presence 
 of mind, is said to have ' rammed in the 
 volume,' and cried Gracum est, fairly 
 choking the savage with the sage.-f- 
 
 While king Richard I. lay before Acre, 
 he was attacked by an ague so grievrfus 
 that none of the leeches could effect its 
 cure; when owing to the prayers of his 
 loyal army he became convalescent, his 
 first symptom of recovery was a violent 
 
 • This paragraph is in the Every-Day 
 Booh, but it could hardly have been omitted 
 here without the narration appearing incom- 
 plete. J. F. R. 
 t Wade's Walks in Oxford, vol. i. p. 128. 
 
 longing for swine's flesh. None could be 
 obtained ; the cook therefore at the bid- 
 ding of an old knight 
 
 "Takes a Saracen, young, and fat, 
 And sodden full hastily 
 With powdeer and -with epicery. 
 And with saffron of good colour." 
 
 and made a dainty dish for the royal in- 
 valid, who " eat the flesh and gnawed the 
 bone," and when he had satisfied his 
 longing. — 
 
 " His chamberlain him wrapped warm. 
 He lay and slept, and swet a stound. 
 And became whole and sound." 
 
 Presently after Richard hearing with as- 
 tonishment and indignation the cries of 
 the enemy who seemed making their way 
 to his tent, he flung himself on his steed, 
 and rushing among the Paynims, felled 
 every opponent with his fearfiil battle-ax. 
 Saiadin retreated with loss, and the king 
 returned triumphantly to his camp, and 
 when he had rested awhile, he craved his 
 "soupere" even "the head of that ilke 
 swine, " which he " of ate. " Quoth the 
 cook, " that head I ne have.'' Then said 
 the king, 
 
 " So God me save. But I see the head of 
 that swine. 
 Forsooth, thou shalt lessen thine !^' 
 The cook saw none other might be. 
 He fetch'd the head, and lot him see ; 
 He fell on knees, and made a cxy, 
 " Iio hc« the head ! my lord, mercy !" 
 
1603 
 
 TIIF. YKAR BO(JK.— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 1504 
 
 The swarte vis • when the Virig seeth 
 
 His black beard, and white teeth. 
 
 How his lippes grinned wide,t 
 
 " What devil is this V The king cried, 
 
 And gan to laugh as he were wode. 
 
 '* What ! is Saracen's flesh thus good *! 
 
 That, never erst, I nought wist ! 
 
 By Godes death, and his up-rist^ 
 
 Shall we never die for default, ~ 
 
 While we may in any assault, 
 
 Slee Saracens, the flesh may take. 
 
 And seethen, and rostem, and do hem bake, 
 
 Gnawen her flesh to the bones 1 
 
 Now. I have it proved once. 
 
 For hunger ere I bo wb, 
 - I and my folk shall eat mo '.'* 
 
 This " right pleasaunt history" may be 
 found at ftiU in " Webers*s Metrical Ro- 
 mances, vol', ii. p. 119, and abridged in 
 Ellis*s Specimens of early English Ro- 
 mances, vol. ii. p. 233 ;" the which books 
 be chi«fflv read by antiquaries and poets. 
 J. F. R. 
 
 * Black face-, 
 t See the comic picture of a boars-ttead in 
 the Every- Say Booh. 
 
 Mr. Ritson, in his Observations on Warton's History of English Poetry, givfi 
 «fle following from a MS. 
 
 ^ntitnt ISdar'fi tjeaO (ffatol. 
 
 In die natiuitat. 
 
 Now^U, nowell, nowell, nowell, 
 
 Tydyng'. gode y thyngke to telle 
 The borys hede that we bryng here, 
 Betokeneth a p'nce with owte pere, 
 Ys born this day to bye v' dere, 
 
 Nowell, &ci 
 
 A bore ys a souerayn beste, 
 And acceptab(l)e in eu'y feste. 
 So mote thys lorde be" to moste & leste 
 Nowell, &c. 
 
 This boryS hede we bryng with song. 
 In worchyp of hym that thus sprang " 
 
 Of a virgine to redresse all wrong. 
 Nowell, &o. 
 
 Temple Revels. 
 
 In the fourth year of the reign of 
 queen Elizabeth, a magnificent Christ- 
 mas' was kept at the Inner Temple in 
 which the lord Robert Dudley, afterwards 
 earl of Leicester, was chief, under the 
 title of Palaphitos, Prince of Sophie, 
 High Constable Marshal of the Knights 
 Templars, and Patron of the honourable 
 order of Pegasus. Christopher Hatton, 
 afterwards lord chancellor of England, 
 was master of the game, with four mas- 
 ters of the revels, besides other officers 
 lo conduct the burlesque, and fourscore 
 persons forming a guard. Gerard Leigh, 
 who was present, and created a knight of 
 Pegasus, describes, in his " Accidence of 
 Armorie," the mock solemnity within 
 the hall, and the public firing of double 
 cannons, " in so great a number and so 
 
 terrible that it darkened the whole air." 
 
 There belonged to the office of the 
 constable marshal a suit of gilt armoiit 
 with a nest of feathers in the helm, and a 
 fair pole-axe to bear in his hand. Dug- 
 dale sets forth the orders for making a 
 Lord of Misrule, with feasting and 
 dancing " round about the coal fire," and 
 hunting in the hall with nine or ten 
 couples of hounds a fox and a cat, both 
 tied at the end of the pole, until they 
 were killed beneath the fire. 
 
 In the ninth year of King Charles I. 
 the four inns of court provided a Christ- 
 mas mask, which cost £2400, and the 
 king invited a hundred and twenty gen- 
 tlemen of the four inns to a mask at 
 Whitehall on Shrove Teusday following. 
 
5o;> 
 
 THE YEAR BOOKi— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 U0& 
 
 JACRLIN— SHAVKR AND POET-CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 Cambridge Basbees. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 JohA Jacklin was " well liking," and 
 well known to Alma Mater as a shaver, 
 a poet, and an " odd fellow." Good 
 humor hung ' pendant on the very tip of 
 his tongue, and a thousand funny sen- 
 tences poured from his lips ; were your 
 
 48. 
 
 mind as gloomy as Spenser's Cave of 
 Despair, his look had the power to banish 
 all. He presided, for many years previ- 
 ous to his death, over a society in Cam- 
 bridge, called "The Sixteen," by which 
 he was dubbed " The Major" — below a 
 whole length portrait of him, of which 
 the preceding is a copy, he is familiarly 
 called " The Major — cart of Sixteen." 
 3 C( 
 
1507 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 150? 
 
 He died December 25, 1825, aged seventy 
 four, " respected, and lamenteb dy all 
 who knew him." After his decease, the 
 following biographic or oneaM was found 
 folded in an olp song book, inhis comb- 
 drawer, and many of hisquonda m friends 
 hope it mayobtain a pi ace in the Year 
 Book. 
 
 [Copy.] 
 
 "TO HIM to whom these presentg 
 shall come Greeting. KNOW -YE thgt 
 John Jacklin, alias The Major, thoug^ 
 no pugilist, had every day a brush aJid 
 set-to, and was frequently in the suds ; for 
 he entered great men's houses, and sans 
 ceremonie took them by the nose, and cut 
 off' more of their Aaws than any^ disease, 
 or entail. Bees never harmed him, 
 though he handled the comb. He was a 
 staunch Tory, and brought many a Wig 
 to the block : though a Sexaquarian, he 
 was always daily at sweet " Sixteen," and 
 although he sometimes met with great 
 men, he was always acknowledged as 
 
 "The Majoh. 
 
 " Uncle thought to do a favor. 
 Put me 'prentice to a shaver ; 
 And from that hour I never yet 
 Could shave -without a little wet. 
 Wet my soap, and wet my brush, I 
 'Gan to think about the lushy ! 
 Soap and self 1 often wetted, 
 Danc'd and sung, but never fretted : 
 "Wet, I found, that all things suited, 
 Wet, and self, often saluted. 
 Fix'd at Cambridge 'mohgst-my betters. 
 Dunces, dandies, men of letters ! 
 Here I found them thin and lusty. 
 Priests and laymen often thirsty. 
 Soon I found them quick as razor. 
 And quickly I was dubb'd The Major ! , 
 The tables I set in a roar. 
 When I entered '* four times four." 
 Snuff 'd the candles neat and pretty, 
 Smok'd my pipe, and sang my ditty — 
 'Bout * the Granchester, old miller' — 
 The Ghost,' and 'rusty sword to kill her!* 
 Home brew'd ale both bright and gaily. 
 Was my joy and comfort daily ! 
 Thau drink bad ale, I had rather, 
 Quench'd my thirst in my own lather ! 
 In social friendship — what a shiner I 
 The Major neVer was T?ie Minor ! 
 A better creature never was, I'll bet a wager 
 (Although I say it) than was 
 " Camb. 1824." The Major." 
 
 Another Barber — Robert Foestee, the 
 " Cambridge Flying Barber," died at the 
 end of the year 1 799. During many years 
 he was hair-dresser to Clare Hall, and an 
 eccentric but honest fellow. He was al- 
 lowed to be so dexterous in his profession, 
 and trimmed his friends so well, that some 
 
 years before his death, the gentlemen of 
 the University, by subscription, bought 
 him a silver bason; and he was so famous, 
 that it was no light honor which enabled 
 a stranger to say, he had been shaved out 
 of '' Forster's bason." A striking like- 
 ness was etched of him in full trim with- 
 out his hat ; for, having lost the only one 
 he possessed, many years before he died, 
 he never wore one afterwards. The etch- 
 ings are become scarce, or one would have 
 accompanied the likeness of " The Major." 
 
 Nemo. 
 
 Puff ! Puff ! ! Puff ! ! ! 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 Sir, ^ 
 
 Going the other evening into a hair- 
 dresser's shop to have my " cranium ope- 
 rated Upon," or in plain speaking to have 
 my hair cropped, I espied the enclosed 
 printed bill, or whatever else you may 
 call it, which I herewith send -for the 
 amusement and edification of those " cog- 
 noscenti who will give their time to 
 peruse such a curious specimen of Bom- 
 bastic Rodomontade. — I have seen a 
 great variety of puffs, literary puffs, 
 lottery puffs, and quack's puffs ; but this 
 puff is of a very different description. — 
 It is the puff sublime. 
 
 " From the sublime to the ridiculous there is 
 but one step." — 
 
 [Copy.] 
 
 "The grand stimuli to the performance 
 of heroic achievements in the art of war 
 are the distinguished honors conferred by 
 a grateful country, and the hopes of im- 
 mortality. Thus the Romans of old 
 decreed the glory of a triumph while 
 living to their illustrious warriors, and 
 post mortem a place among the gods. The 
 Amor Patri^ is the noblest impulse of 
 our nature, and, in this happy land of Ol^ 
 England, the highest honors a belovej 
 monarch can be.stow are accessible to th^ 
 lowest of her citizens, and the man o 
 science who, in his particular profession 
 astonishes the world by the splendor of 
 his genius, is stamped by an admiring 
 people as a star of the first magnitude. 
 The preliminaries apply to that singular 
 professor of his art, 
 
 Gillihgwater, 
 
 the 
 
 Inimitable Hair Cutter, 
 
 AND 
 
 Patent Perruquier, 
 85, 
 Long Lane, Stviitiifield. 
 Who, by a taot peculiarly his own, has 
 
509 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECE.MREIl,25. 
 
 1510 
 
 introducea a new era in the science of 
 Hair-cutting ; he proves to demonstration 
 that the same modus operandi does not as- 
 similate to every head, but, by a union 
 of skill and anatomical knowledge of 
 each particular countenance, he blends, 
 with a strict regard to fashion, the com- 
 manding aspect of personal figure. 
 
 " When this Colossus of Hair-cutting 
 established his head-guarters in Long-lane, 
 like the mighty CiESAR, conscious of his 
 conquering powers, he exclaimed " Veni 
 ViDi, Vici, " and he soon illustrated 
 the memorable expression, and such is 
 his influence, that the Minor Stars, with 
 which his neighbourhood is infested, are 
 hiding their diminished heads. Like the 
 admirable Crighton, Gillingwater 
 stands pre-eminently great. The Cog- 
 noscenti who have examined the prin- 
 ciples upon which the Perruques are fab- 
 ricated, pronounce them a Chef D' 
 (EuvRE of workmanship — indeed, they 
 form Elegantia ista ; and the liberal 
 method he pursues is so different from 
 what is practised by petty shopkeepers, 
 that it must necessarily distinguish him. 
 
 " Although his assortment is extensive, 
 consisting of all the shades of nature, he 
 offers the only safe mode — that of 
 measuring the head. Upon this principle 
 the result is certain, and free of that 
 mixture of color which i^ found in per- 
 - ruques kept in shops where a large stock 
 is boasted of. — His Chevaliers are 
 artists of high distinction, and exhibit 
 that polite attention, inseparable from a 
 professional intercourse with polished 
 society, and form a Galaxy of com- 
 manding talent. 
 
 " Charge for cutting only sixpence." 
 
 N. B. For the information of those of 
 your readers who are not yet initi- 
 ated into the exquisite language of this 
 "inimitable hair cutter," by his che- 
 valiers," those "artists of such high dis- 
 tinction," I believe he means his, his, his, 
 — Assistants — Apprentice being now 
 nearly obsolete. 
 
 Edwin J. 
 
 Memoranda. 
 
 An indiscreet good action is little better 
 than a discreet mischief. — Bp. Hall. 
 
 I had rather confess my ignorance than 
 falsely profess knowledge. — It is no shame 
 not to know all things, but it is a just 
 shame to over-reach in any thing. — Bp. 
 Hall, 
 
 Christmas Wolves. 
 Olaus Magnus, who was of pre-emi- 
 nence, termed " the Goth," and was 
 archbishop of Upsal, and metropolitan of 
 Sweden, relates in his History, that, at 
 the festival of Christmas, in the cold 
 northern parts, there is a strange mutation 
 of men into animals. He says that, at a 
 certain place previously resolved upon 
 amongst themselves, there is a gathering 
 of a huge multitude of wolves that are 
 changed from men, who, during that 
 night, rage with such fierceness against 
 mankind, and other creatures not fierce 
 by nature, that the inhabitants of that 
 country suffer more hurt from them than 
 ever they do from true natural wolves, 
 for these human wolves attack houses, 
 labor to.break down the doors that they 
 may destroy the inmates, and descend 
 into the cellars, where they drink out 
 whole tuns of beer or mead, leaving the 
 empty barrels heaped one upon another. 
 And, if any man afterwards come to the 
 place where they have met, and his cart 
 overturn, or he fall down in the snow, it 
 is believed he will die that year. And 
 there is standing a wall of a certain 
 castle that was destroyed, which, at a set 
 time, these unnatural, wolves come to, 
 and exercise their agility in trying to leap 
 over ; and they that cannot leap over this 
 wall, as commonly the fat ones cannot, 
 are whipped by their captains : and, 
 moreover, it is believed that among them 
 are the great men and chief nobility of 
 the land. And one skilled in the manner 
 of this great change of a natural man 
 into a brute, says, that it is effected by a 
 man mumbling certain words, and drink- 
 ing a cup of ale to a man wolf, which, if 
 he accept the same, the man natural is 
 admitted as worthy of the society of these 
 men wolves, and may change himself into 
 the form of a wolf by going into a secret 
 cellar Or private wood ; and also he may put 
 off his wolf's form, and resume his own, 
 at his pleasure. 
 
 And, for example, it is fiirther related 
 by the archbishop Olaus, that a certain 
 nobleman, while on a journey through 
 the woods, was benighted and hungry j 
 and it so fell out that among his servants 
 were some who had this faculty of becom- 
 ing wolves; one of these proposed that 
 the rest should be quiet, while he with- 
 drew, and that they should not be sur^ 
 prised to tumult by any thing they saw 
 in his absence ; and, so saying, he went 
 into a thick wood, and theie privily lie 
 transformed himself, and came out as a 
 2 C 2 
 
1511 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER, 26. 
 
 lol2 
 
 wolf, and fell fietcely on a flock of sheep, 
 and caught one of them, and brobght it 
 to his companions, who, knowing the 
 bringer thereof for their comrade, received 
 it gratefully ; and he returned into the 
 wood, as a wolf would, and came back 
 again in his own shape as the nobleman's 
 servant; and so, of his skill, this lord 
 and the rest had a supper, for they roasted 
 the sheep. 
 
 Also, saith the archbishop, not many 
 years since, it fell out in Livonia jhat a 
 nobleman's wife disputed with one of 
 her servants, whether men could turn 
 themselves into wolves, and the lady said 
 they could not ; but the servant said, 
 with her permission, he would presently 
 show her an example of that business: 
 and forthwith he went alone into the 
 cellar, and presently after came forth in 
 the form of a wolf; and the dogs hunted 
 him through the fields into a wood, where 
 he defended himself stoutly, but they bit 
 out one of his eyes, and the next day he 
 came with only one eye to his lady. 
 
 Lastly, the archbishop saith, it is yet 
 fresh in memory how the duke of Prussia,' 
 giving little heed to such stories, yet re- 
 quired one who was reputed cunning in 
 this sorcery, to give proof of his art, and 
 the man changed himself into a wolf ac- 
 cordingly ; and the duke was then satis- 
 fied, and caused the man to be burnt for 
 his idolatry.* 
 
 The true black Hellebore Is called 
 Christ's Herb or Christmas Herb, " and 
 that," says Gerard, "because it bloweth 
 about the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 In "the Phenix; or a Revival of scarce 
 and valuable pieces, &c." 2 vols. 8vo., 
 1707, i. 14, there is^ curious dissertation 
 entitled, "Christ's Birth miss-tim'd, or a 
 Resolution of the Right Honorable Lord 
 Carew's Question touching the true time 
 of the Conception and Birth of John 
 Baptist, and also of our Saviour; proving 
 that Jesus Christ was not born in Decem- 
 ber." 
 
 hi m. 
 
 December 25. — Day breaks . 6 1 
 
 Sun rises ..87 
 
 — sets ... 3 53 
 
 Twilight ends . 5 59 
 
 • Olaus Magnus, Hist, of the Goths, b. 
 xviii. c.,^38. 
 
 Mtttmttv 26. 
 
 Sti Stephen's Day 
 
 The day after Christmas day is always 
 observed as " boxing day," in places 
 where still lingeis the decaying custom of 
 soliciting gifts under the denomination 
 
 Christmas Boxes. 
 Gladly, the boy, witt Christmas box in hand, 
 Throiighottt the town, his devious rout pur- 
 sues; 
 And of his master's customers implores 
 The yearly mite ; often his cash he shakes ; 
 The which, perchance, of coppers few con- 
 sists. 
 Whose dulcet jingle fills his little soul 
 With joy as boundless as the debtor feels. 
 When, from the bailiff's rude, tmcivil gripe 
 His friends redeem him, and with pity fraught 
 The claims of all his creditors discharge. 
 
 R. J. Thorn. 
 
 [For the Year Book.^ 
 
 In the hall of the Inner Temple, on St. 
 Stephen's day, after the first course was 
 served in, the constable marshal was wont 
 to enter the hall bravely arrayed with a 
 " fair, rich, compleat barneys, white, and 
 bright, and gilt, with a nest of fethers df 
 all colours upon his crest or helm, and a 
 gilt pole ax in his hand,"'accompanied by 
 the Lieutenant of the tower, " armed with 
 a fair white armour," wearing like fetheis 
 "with a like pole ax in his hand," and 
 with them sixteen trumpeters, four drums 
 and fifes going in rank before them, and 
 attended by four men in white " barneys" 
 from the middle upwards, and halberds iii 
 their hands, bearing on their shoulders a 
 model of the tower : which persons with 
 the drums and music went three times 
 round the fire. Then the constable marshal 
 knelt down before the lord chancellor, 
 and behind him the lieutenant, and in this 
 humble guise, the former personage edified 
 the revellers with an oration of a quarter 
 of an hour's length, declaring that the 
 purpose of his coining was to be admitted 
 into his lordship's service, to which the 
 chancellor answered that he would " take 
 farther advice thereini" 
 
 Then the constable marshal standing 
 up; in submissive manner, delivered his 
 Baked sword to the steward, who pre- 
 sented it to the chancellor, who thereupon 
 " willed'' the marshal to place the con- 
 stable marshal in his seat, ^f ith the lieu- 
 tenant also in his seat. During this 
 ceremony " the tower " was placed " be- 
 
1513 
 
 THE YEAU BOOK.— DECEMBER ZQ. 
 
 I.IU 
 
 neath the fire." Next entered the master 
 of the game apparelled in green velvet, 
 and the ranger of the forest in a green 
 suit of satlen, bearing in his hand a green 
 bow and " divers," arrows " with either of 
 them a hunting horn about their necks, 
 blowing together three blasts of Venery. " 
 These having strided round the fire thrice, 
 the master of the game having made three 
 " courtesies" knelt down before the lord 
 chancellor, and put up the same petition 
 as the constable marshal, the ranger of 
 the forest standing demurely behind him. 
 
 At the conclusion of this ceremony, a 
 hpntsman came into the hall bearing a fox, 
 a pursenet,* and a cat, both bound at the 
 end of a staff, attended by nine or ten 
 couples of hounds with the blowing of 
 hunting horns. Then were the fox and 
 cat set upon and killed by the dogs be- 
 neath the fire, to the no small pleasure of 
 the spectators." 
 
 What this " merry disport " signified 
 (if practised) before the reformation, I 
 know not. In " Ane compendious boke 
 of godly and spiritual songs, Edinburgh, 
 t621, printed from an old copy," are the 
 following lines, seemingly referring to 
 some such pageant : — 
 
 The hunter is Christ th^t hunts in hai^t 
 The hunds are Peter and Pawie, 
 The paip is the fox^ Rome is the Rox 
 That Tubbis us on t]ie gall. 
 
 Then proceeded the second course, 
 which done, and served out, the common 
 sergeant made a " plausible speech" to 
 the lord chancellor and his friends at the 
 highest table, showing forth the necessity 
 of havipg a marshal and master of the 
 game, "for the better reputation" of the 
 commonwealth, and wished them to be 
 received. This oration was seconded by 
 the kmg's sergeant at law, which heard, 
 — the " ancientest of the masters of the 
 revels" sang merrily with the assistance of 
 others there present. 
 
 Only fancy the " ancientest of the mas- 
 ters of the revels " chanting such stanzas 
 as the following, — 
 
 " Bring hither the howle 
 
 The brimming brown bowle. 
 
 And quaff the rich juice right merrilie ; 
 
 Let the wine cup go round 
 
 Till the solid ground 
 
 Shall quake at the noise of our revelrie. 
 
 * Pursenet, a De< of which the mouth is 
 drawn together bv a string. Jahnxm. 
 
 Let wassail and wine 
 
 Their pleasures combine, 
 
 AVhile we quaff the rich juice right merrilie J 
 
 Let us drink till we die. 
 
 When the saints we relie 
 
 Will mingle their songs with our revelrie." 
 
 After supper, which was served with 
 like solemnity as on Christmas day, the 
 constable marshal again presented himself 
 with drums before him, mounted on a 
 scaffold, borne by four men, and going 
 thrice round the hearth, he shouted " a 
 lord ! a lord !" then descending from his 
 elevation, and having danced awhile, he 
 called his court severally by name in 
 this manner ; — 
 
 " Sir Francis Flatterer, of Fowleshurst, 
 in the county of Buckingham." 
 
 " Sir Randk Puckabife, of Rascall 
 Hall, in the county of Rabchell." 
 
 "Sir Morgan Mumchance, of Much 
 Monkery, in the county of Mad Popery," 
 (and others.) This done, the lord of 
 misrule " addressed" himself to the ban- 
 iquet, which, when ended with some 
 " minstralsye, " mirth and dancing, every 
 man departed to rest. " At every mess, 
 a pot of wine allowed : every repast was 
 vid." 
 
 On St. John's day (upoix. the morrow) 
 the lord of misrule was abroad by 7 o' 
 clock in the morning, and repairing to 
 the chambers he compelled any of his of- 
 ficers who were missing to attend him to 
 breakfast with brawn, &c. ; " after break- 
 fast ended, his lordship's power was in 
 suspense, until his personal presence at 
 night, and then his power was most po- 
 tent." At dinner and supper was observed 
 the " diet and service " performed on St. 
 Stephens day : after the second course was 
 served, the king's sergeant "oratour like" 
 declared the disorder of the constable 
 marshal, and common sergeant ; the latter 
 of whom "defended" himself and his 
 companion " with words of great efln- 
 cacy." Hereto the king's servant replied, 
 they rejoined, and whoso was found faulty 
 was sent to the tower. On the Thursday 
 following, the chancellor and company 
 partook of dinner of roast beef and veni- 
 son pasties, and at supper of " mutton 
 and hens roasted," 
 
 J. F. R, 
 
 Walworth, Oct. 1831. 
 
 CONVIVIAL SAYINGS, 
 Hob, or Nob? 
 Grose mentions the question, " Will 
 you hob, or nob, with me ?" as signifying 
 
1515 
 
 THE YFAU BOOK.— DECEMBER 27. 
 
 1516 
 
 ' a request or challenge to drink a glass of 
 wine with the proposer f if the party chal- 
 lenged answered nob, they were to chuse 
 whether white or red." ' In Shakspeare's 
 Twelfth-Night, a character speaking of a 
 duellist says, " His incensement at this 
 moment is so implacable, that satisfaction 
 can be done but by pangs of death, and 
 sepulchre : hob, nob, is his word ; giv't or 
 tak't." Mr. Monck Mason, in a note on 
 this passage, asks, " Is not this the ori- 
 ginal of our hob-nob, or challenge to 
 drink a glass of wine at dinner ?" Mr. 
 Brand observes, "In Anglo-Saxon, hab- 
 ban is to have, and naebban to want. May 
 it not therefore be explained in tliis sense, 
 as signifying, ' Do you choose a glass of 
 wine, or would you rather let it alone ?'' 
 This appears to be the only reasonable 
 account of the origin of this term of re- 
 quest or challenge. 
 
 Buz. 
 
 This term signifies a cnallenge to a 
 person to pour out all the wine in the 
 Ijottle iirto his glass, the challenger un- 
 dertaking to drink it, should it prove more 
 than the glass would hold. It is also a 
 term commonly said to one who hesitates 
 to empty a bottle that is nearly outi We 
 are told of it as being a college expression ; 
 intimating a threat, ia the way of plea- 
 santry, to black the person's face witli a 
 burnt cork, should he flinch or fail to 
 empty the bottle. Possibly it may*have 
 been derived from the German " buzzen," 
 sordes avferre, q. d. " Off with the Lees 
 at bottom."* 
 
 
 
 h, m. 
 
 December 26.- 
 
 — Day breaks 
 
 , 6 
 
 
 Sun rises . . 
 
 8 7 
 
 
 — sets . . . 
 
 , 3 53 
 
 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 6 
 
 Mtttm'btv 27. 
 
 St. John. 
 
 There is sufficient respecting this fes- 
 tival in the Every-Duy Book. 
 
 If the reader have a dread of poisoning, 
 and faith in preservatives, the Evert/-Day 
 Book, on St. John's Day will supply a 
 recipe for marvellous wine-manchets. 
 
 * Brand. 
 
 Under the Rose. 
 
 This saying is stated to have taken its 
 rise from the ancient convivial entertain- 
 ments, where it was customary to wear 
 chaplets of roses about the head, on which 
 occasions, when persons desired to con- 
 fine their words to the company present, 
 that they " might go no farther," they 
 commonly said " they are spoken under 
 the Rose." Hence the Germans have a 
 custom of picturing a rose in the ceiling 
 over the table. In Lingua, a comedy 
 1657, Appetitua says : " Crown me no 
 crowns but Bacchus' crown of roses." 
 
 On this passage, in the first part of 
 Shakspeare's Henry VI. 
 
 From off this brier pluck a white rose with me, 
 
 Warburton says, " This is given as the ori- 
 ginal of the two badges of the house of York 
 and Lancaster, whether truly or not is no 
 great matter. But the proverbial expres- 
 sion of saying a thing under the Rose, I 
 am persuaded, came from thence. When 
 the nation had ranged itself into two 
 great factions, under the white and red 
 rose, and were perpetually plotting and 
 covlnter-plotting against one another, then 
 when a matter of faction was communi- 
 cated by either party to his friend in the 
 same quarrel, it was natural for him to 
 add, that he said it under the Rose ; 
 meaning that, as it cotvcerued the faction, 
 it was religiously to be kept secret." 
 Upon Warburton's supposition, Mr. Up- 
 ton, another of Shakspeare's commenta- 
 tors, says : " This is ingenious ! What 
 pity that it is not learned too 1 The rose 
 (as the fables say) was the symbol of 
 silence, and consecrated by Cupid to 
 Harpoorates, to conceal the lewd pranks 
 of his mother. So common a book 
 as Lloyd's Dictionary might have in- 
 structed Dr. Warburton in this ; ' Huic 
 Harpocrati Cupido Veneris filius parentis 
 sux rosam dedit in mvinus, ut scilicet si 
 quid licentius dictum, vel actum sit in 
 convivio, sciant tacenda esse omnia. 
 Atque idcirco veteres ad finem convivii 
 sub rosa, Anglicfe under the rose, transacta 
 esse omnia ante digressum contestabantur; 
 cujus formse vis eadem esset, atque ista 
 MiiTuinvAiiova avffnoTav. Probant banc 
 rem versus qui reperiuntur in marmore : 
 
 Est rosa flos Veneris, cujus quo furta laterent 
 Harpocrati matris dona dicavit amor. 
 
 lude Tosam mensis hospes suspendit amicis, 
 Convivae ut sub ea dicta tacenda sciat." 
 
 Newton, in his "Herball lo the Bible," 
 
1517 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27. 
 
 IfllS 
 
 1587, says : "I will heere adde a com- 
 mon countrey cuslome that is used to be 
 done with the Rose. When pleasaunt 
 and merry companions doe frieudty meete 
 together to make goode cheere, as soone 
 as their feast or banket is ended, they give 
 faithful! promise mutually one to another, 
 that whosoever hath been merrily spoken 
 by any in that assembly, should be 
 wrapped up in silence, and not to be car- 
 ried out of the doores. For the assur- 
 ance and performance whereof, the tearme 
 which they use, is, that all things there 
 saide must be taken as spoken under th^ 
 rose. Whereupon they use in their par- 
 lors and dining rooms to hang roses over 
 their tables, to put the companie in 
 memorie of secrecie, and not rashly or 
 indiscreetly to clatter and blab out 
 what they heare — protesting that all was 
 spoken under the Rose." Peacham in 
 " The Truth of ourTimes, 1638," mentions 
 this saying, and the convenient practice 
 "in many places, as well in England as 
 in the Low Countries," of painting a rose. 
 He deduces the origin of the saying from 
 the authority cited by Upton in his stric- 
 ture on WarburtoD. * 
 
 Divination 
 
 Divination is the obtaining of the 
 knowledge of something future, by spme 
 endeavour or means designedly made use 
 of for that end. 
 
 Gaule, in his Mag-aslro-mancer posed 
 and puzzel'd, p. 165, enumerates as fol- 
 lows the several species of divination : — 
 
 Stareomancy, or divining by the ele- 
 ments. 
 
 ieromaney, or divining by the air. 
 
 Pyromancy, by fire. 
 
 Hydromancy, by water. 
 
 Geomancy, by earth. 
 
 Thebmancy, pretending to divine by 
 the revelation of the Spirit, and by the 
 Scriptures, or Word of God. 
 
 Dsmonomancy, by the suggestions of 
 evil dremons, or devils. 
 
 Idolomancy, by idols, images, figures. 
 
 Psychomancy, by men's souls, affections, 
 viills, religious or moral dispositions. 
 
 Antinopomancy, by the entrails of men, 
 women, and children 
 
 Theriomaticy, by beasts. 
 
 Qmithomancy, by birds. 
 
 Ichthyomancy, by fishes ; 
 
 Botanomancy, by herbs. 
 
 * Brand. 
 
 Lithomancy, by stones. 
 Cleromancy, by lots. 
 Oniromancy, by dreams. 
 Onomatomancy, by names. 
 Arithmancy, by numbers. 
 Logarithmancy, by Logarithms. 
 Stemomancy, from the breast to the 
 belly. 
 
 Gastromancy, by the sound of, or sign* 
 upon the belly. 
 
 Omphelomancy, by the navel. 
 
 Chiromancy, by the hands. 
 
 Padomancy, by the feet. 
 
 Onychomancy, by the nayles. 
 
 Cephaleonommcy, by brayling of an 
 asses head. 
 
 Tuphramancy, by ashes. 
 
 Capnomancy, by smoak. 
 
 Lhanomancy, by burning of frankin 
 cence. 
 
 Carromancy, by melting of wax. 
 
 Lecammancy, by a basin of water. 
 
 Catoxfromancy, by looking glasses. 
 
 Charfomancy, by writing in papers ; as 
 in choosing valentines, &c. 
 
 Macharomancy, by knives or swords. 
 
 Chrystallomancy, by glasses. 
 
 Ddctyhmancy, by rings. 
 
 Coseinomancy, by sieves. 
 
 Axinomancy, by saws. 
 
 Cttttabomancy, by vessels of brass or 
 other metal, 
 
 Roadomancy, by stars. 
 
 Spatalamancy, by skins, bones, &c. 
 
 Sciomancy, by shadows. 
 
 Astragalomancy, by dice. 
 
 Oinomancy, by wine. 
 
 Sycomancy, by figs. 
 
 Typomancy, by the coagulation of 
 cheese. 
 
 Alphitomancy, by meal, flour, or bran. 
 
 Crithomancy, by grain or corn. 
 
 Alectromancy, by cocks and hens. 
 
 Gyromancy, by rounds oi: circles. 
 ' Lampadomancy, by candles and lamps. 
 
 Nagomancy, or Necromancy, by in- 
 specting, consulting, and divining by, 
 with, or from the dead. 
 
 In Holiday's " Marriage of the Arts" 
 is introduced a species of divination not 
 in the above ample list of them, intitled 
 Anthropomancie. 
 
 A writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, 
 for March, 1731, introduces " a person 
 surprising a lady and her company in 
 close cabal over their coffee; the rest 
 very intent upon one, who, by her dress 
 and intelligence, he guessed was a tire- 
 woman : to which she added the secret of 
 divining by coffee-grounds ; she was thea 
 
1519 
 
 THE YEAE BOuK— DECEMBEK 27, 
 
 1620 
 
 in full inspiration, and with much so- 
 lemnity observing the atoms round the 
 cup : on one hand sat a widow, on the 
 other a maiden lady, both attentive to the 
 predictions lo be given of their future 
 fate. The lady (his acquaintance)^ though 
 married, was no less earnest in contem- 
 plating her cup, than the other two. They 
 assured him that every cast of the cup is 
 a picture of all one's life to come; and 
 every transaction and circumstance is de- 
 lineated with the exactest certainty." 
 
 The same practice is noticed in the 
 Connoisseur, No. 56, where a girl is en- 
 gaged in divining of what rank her hus- 
 band shall be. She says, " I have seen 
 him several times in coffee-grounds, with 
 a sword by his side ; and he was once at 
 the bottom of a tea cup, in a coach and 
 six, with two footmen behind it." 
 
 In the life of Harvey, the famous con- 
 jurer of Dublin, 8vo, 1728, we read of 
 " Immersion of wooden bowls in water, 
 sinking incharmed and inchanted amulets 
 under water, or burying them under a 
 stone in a grave in a church-yard." 
 
 Among love divinations may be reck- 
 oned the dumb cake, so called because it 
 was to be made without speaking, and 
 afterwards the parties were to go back- 
 wards up the stairs to bed, and put the 
 cake under their pillows, when they were 
 to dream of their lovers. 
 
 There is a prodigious vari'.ty of these 
 divinations, alphabetically enumerated 
 and explained, in " Fd'oricii Bibliogra- 
 phia Antiquaria." .See also Potter's 
 Grecian Antiquities.. 
 
 John of Salisbury enumerates no fewer 
 than thirteen different kinds of diviners, 
 or fortune tellers, who (in his time) pre- 
 tended to foretel future events, some by . 
 one means, and sbme by another. 
 
 Chiromancy — Divination i#y Pai,- 
 
 MISTBY. 
 
 According to Indagine's " Book of 
 I'almestry and Physiognomy, translated 
 })y Fabian Withers," 8vo. 1656, the lines 
 u the palm of the hand are distinguished 
 by formal names, such as the table line, 
 pr line of fortune, the line of life or of 
 the heart, the middle natural line, the line 
 pf the liver or stomach, &c. &c. &c., the 
 
 triangle, the quaarangle. The thumb 
 too, and fingers, have their " hills " given 
 them, from the tops of which manual 
 diviners pretended they had a prospect 
 of futurity. The little finger they call 
 the ear finger, because it was commonly 
 used by our ancestors to make clean the 
 ears ; a practice which does no great 
 honor to their delicacy. 
 
 Gaule, in his "Mag- astro -mancer 
 posed and puzzled," tells us, tha the 
 lines spreading at the bottom joint of 
 the thumb signify contentions; the line 
 above the middle of the thumb, if it meet 
 round about, portends a hanging destiny; 
 many lines transverse upon the last joint 
 of the fore-finger denote riches by in- 
 heritance ; right lines there, a jovial na- 
 ture; lines in the points of the middle 
 finger (like a gridiron) a melancholy wit, 
 and unhappy; if the sign on the little 
 finger be conspicuous, they denote a good 
 wit and eloquent, but the contrary, if 
 obscure. Equal lines upon the first joint 
 of the ring-finger are made of a happy wit. 
 
 Cornelius Agrippa, in his Vanity of 
 Sciences, s!iys that chiromancy " fancies 
 seven mountains in the palm of a man's 
 hand, according to the number oJF the 
 seven planets ; and, by the lines which are 
 there, to be seen, judges of the com- 
 plexion, condition, and fortune of the 
 person; imagining the harmonious dis- 
 position of the lines to be, as it were, 
 certain celestial characters stampt upon 
 us by God and nature." Agrippa gives 
 a catalogue of great names of such authors 
 as have written on this science falsely sp 
 called, but observes that " none of them 
 have been able to make any further pro- 
 gress than conjecture, and observation of 
 experience. Now tliat there is no cer- 
 tainty in these conjectures an,d observa- 
 tions is manifest from thence, because 
 they are figments grounded upon the will ; 
 and about which the masters thereof of 
 equal learning and authority do very 
 niuch differ." 
 
 Dr. Ferrand, in his Love's Melancholy, 
 1640, tells us that "no man professeth 
 publickely this cheating art, but theeves, 
 rogues, and beggarly rascals ; which are 
 now every where knowne by the name of 
 Bohemians, Egyptians, and Caramaras." 
 It may be well to obsei;ve the date of 
 this reprobation of fortune-telling by the 
 hand.— We have still fortune-tellers of 
 this class. 
 
tm 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER sr. 
 
 152? 
 
 MINSTER CHURCH, ISLE OF THANET, KENT. 
 
 Minster, about two miles distant from 
 Ramsgate, derives imporiance from its 
 celebrated abbey for veiled virgins, found- 
 ed by Domneva queen of the Mercians 
 in 670. Remains of this edifice still 
 exist; and bear the name of Minster 
 court. This is the mansion-house of the 
 manor of Minster. The north front has 
 a fine Gothic doorway, with its arch and 
 ornaments entire. 
 
 The church is considered the most 
 ancient in Thanet. It is a very fine 
 structure : the chancel and transept are of 
 pure Gothic architecture; the nave is 
 Saxon. The chancel is lighted by several 
 lancet windows, and has eighteen colle- 
 giate s\aUs in good preservation. At the 
 west end is a handsome tower and leaded 
 steeple, with a clock and five bells. On 
 tlie top of the spire was formerly a giobe, 
 and upon that a wooden cross covered 
 with lead, over which was a vane, and 
 above that an iron cross ; until about 1647, 
 Richard Culmer, commonly called " Blue 
 
 Dick, fixed ladders, before day, by moon- 
 light, and hired two men of the parish to 
 go up and demolish the ball and crosses 
 as " monuments of idolatry." 
 
 Dr. Meric Casaubon became vicar of 
 this parish in 1634, and held the vicarage 
 until it was sequestered by the parliament 
 in 1644, when Richard Culmer was ap- 
 pointed in his stead. 
 
 Ebbs Fleet, in this parish, seems to have 
 been the usual landing-place from the 
 sea upon the isle of Thanet. At this 
 spot the two Saxon chiefs, Hengist and 
 Horsa, landed with their forces in 385, 
 when, according to Gildas " they first fixed 
 their terrible claws on the eastern part of 
 the isle of Great Britain, as if they were 
 about to fight for the country, but in 
 reality to lay siege to it and destroy it." 
 Here, in 596, Austin, called the apostle of 
 the English, landed. Here, likewise, 
 landed from France, St. Mildred the 
 second abbess of Minster. 
 
1523 IHE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27. 1524 
 
 Old War-sign. gers in different directions through the 
 
 Upon the authority of certain state- land, each bearing a bent bow, and that 
 
 ments in the " Cambrian Antiquities," peace was in a like manner announced by 
 
 it is supposed that war was anciently a bow unstrung, and therefore straight, 
 proclaimed in Britain by sending messen- 
 
 THE BENDED BOW. 
 
 * 
 
 There was heard the sound of a coming foe. 
 There was sent through Britain a bended bow. 
 And a voice was pour'd on the free winds far, 
 As the land rose up at the sign of war. 
 ' Heard ye not the battle horn ? 
 —Reaper ! leave thy golden corn ! 
 
 i-.eave it for the birds of Heaven, 
 
 Swords must flash, and shields be riven ! 
 
 Leave it for the winds to shed — 
 
 Arm ! ere Britain's, turf grow red ! " 
 And the reaper arra'd, like a freeman's son, 
 And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on. 
 
 " Hunter ! leave the mountain chase, 
 
 Take the falchion from its pl8[ce ! 
 
 Let the wolf go free to-day, 
 
 Leave him for a nobler prey ! 
 
 Let the deer ungall'd sweep by — 
 
 Arm thee I Britain's foes are nigh 1 " 
 And the hunter arm'd ere his chase was done, 
 And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on. 
 
 " Chieftain, quit the joyous feast ! 
 
 Stay not till the song has ceased. 
 
 Though the mead be foaming bright. 
 
 Though the fires give ruddy light, 
 
 Leave the hearth and leave the hall — 
 
 Arm thee ! Britain's foes must fall. " 
 And the chieftain arm'd, and the horn was blown. 
 And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on. 
 
 " Prince 1 thy father's deeds are told, 
 
 In the bower and in the hold ! 
 
 Where the goatherd's lay is sung, 
 
 Where the minstrel's harp is strung ! 
 
 — Foes are on thy native sea — 
 
 Give our bards a tale of thee ! " 
 And the prince came arm'd, like a leader's son. 
 And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on. 
 
 " Mother ! stay thou not thy boy ! 
 
 He must learn the battle's joy. 
 
 Sister ! bring the sword and spear, 
 
 Give thy brother words of cheer ! 
 
 Maiden ! bid thy lover part, 
 
 Britain calls the strong iu heart ! " 
 And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on. 
 And the bards made song for a battle won ! 
 
 Mrs. IIemans. 
 
1525 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27. 
 
 1526 
 
 Single-stick and Cudgels. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 I do not observe that you notice the 
 yearlyvillage sports of Single-stick playing 
 and Cudgelling, in your Year-Book. — 
 You may know, perhaps, that the in- 
 habitants of many of the villages in the wes- 
 tern counties, not having a fair or other 
 merry-making to collect a fun-seeking 
 money - spending crowd, and being 
 willing to nave one day of mirth in the 
 year, have some time in the summer 
 what are called fiants; when they are 
 generally visited by their friends, whom 
 ■hey treat with the old English fare of 
 beef and plumb pudding, followed by the 
 sports of single-stick playing, cudgelling, 
 or wrestling : and sometimes by those 
 delectable inventions of merry Comus, 
 and mirthful spectacles of the village 
 green, jumping in the sack, grinning 
 through the horse-collar, or the running 
 of blushing damsels for that indispensable 
 article of female dress — the plain English 
 name of which rhymes with a frock. 
 
 Single-stick playing is so called to dis- 
 tinguish it from cudgelling, in which two 
 sticks are used : the single-stick player 
 having the left hand tied down, and using 
 only one stick both to defend himself and 
 strike his antagonist. The object of each 
 gamester in this play, as in cudgelling, is 
 to guard himself, and to fetch blood 
 from the other's head ; whether by taking 
 a little skin from his pericranium, drawing 
 a stream from his nose, or knocking out 
 a few of those early inventions for 
 grinding — the teeth. 
 
 They are both sanguine in their hope 
 of victory, and, as many other ambitious 
 fighters have done, they both aim at the 
 crown. 
 
 In cudgelling, as the name implies, the 
 weapon is a stout cudgel ; and the playe' 
 defends himself with another having a 
 large hemisphere of wicker-work upon it. 
 This is calkd thepo*, either from its likeness 
 in shape to that kitchen article, or else in 
 commemoration of some ancient war- 
 fare, when the " rude forefathers of the 
 hamlet," being suddenly surrounded with 
 their foes, sallied forth against them, 
 armed with the pot and ladle. 
 
 Single-stick playing, and cudgelling, 
 would be more useful to a man as an art 
 of self-defence, if he were sure that his 
 enemy would always use the same mode 
 of fighting : but the worst of it is, if a 
 Somersetshire single-slick player quarrel 
 with a DevoLshire wrestler, the latter, not 
 
 thinking himself bound to crack the 
 stickler's head by the rules of the game, 
 will probably run in and throw him off 
 his legs, giving such a violent shock to 
 his system that the only use he will be 
 able to make of his stick will be that 
 of hobbling home with it. 
 
 W. Barnes. 
 
 Handsell — Horseshoes. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 At p. 954 occurs the word "Handsell." 
 The practise of nailing the horse shoes to 
 keep out the witches is generally the 
 same in all the counties I have been in ; 
 as also that of rubbing by some, and 
 spitting on by others, of the first money 
 taken for articles usually sold by petty 
 carriers — ^the good luck or bad of the sales 
 for the day, being usually laid to the charge 
 of the first purchaser. I have known 
 when they would not sell at all to some, 
 at the commencement a reduced price was 
 gladly taken from a person presumed to 
 be lucky as a purchaser. 
 
 Brand I find has much on spitting and 
 saliva ; but the word " Handsell," is in 
 my opinion a hand full of such articles as 
 could be so measured and valued by 
 such — Yet I find in Arnold's chronicle of 
 the customs of London, quarto, page 191, 
 the following curious item, which may 
 ave reference to the above custom : — 
 
 "Another Weight is called auncels shaft, 
 and this weight is forboden in England by 
 statute of parliament, and also Holy 
 church hath cursed in England all those 
 that bye and sell by that auncel weight, 
 for it is a disuseable weight if a man cast 
 him to deceive the people and for to be 
 false." 
 
 Handsell to me certainly appears to be 
 a corruption of Auncel, and the spitting 
 on the first conceived gobd money is to 
 keep away the bad which probably your 
 more learned correspondent may further 
 illustrate. 
 
 I remain. Dear sir. 
 
 Your most obedient servant, 
 
 J. F. Pb(esix. 
 
 6th August, 1831. 
 Liverpool. 
 
 Fairies. 
 
 There are some very pretty notions in 
 verse on the love of order and cleanliness 
 among the " Good People," of our old 
 
1527 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— DECEMBER 27. 
 
 152e 
 
 popular Mythology. They were famous 
 slut-piiichers; and celebrated, withal, for 
 dressiug themselves gallantly. 
 
 Mae, The Fairy Queens condescends to 
 her subjects in a ditty entitled with her 
 own name, wherein she says, 
 \Vlieu mortals are at rest 
 And snoring in their nest, 
 Unkeard, and unespie.d. 
 Through key-holes we do glide 
 Over tables, stools, and shelves. 
 We trip it with our fairy elves. 
 An^, if the house be foul 
 With platter, dish, or bowl. 
 Up stairs we nimbly creep, 
 And find the sluts asleep ; 
 There we pinch their arms and thighs ; 
 None escapes, and none espies. 
 So much for punishment of offences ; 
 next, as in moral justice, comes reward 
 for services : — 
 
 But if the house be swept. 
 And from uncleanness kept^ 
 We praise the household maid> 
 And duly she is paid : 
 For we use, before we go. 
 To drop a tester in her shoe. 
 Dr. Richard Corbet, Bishop of Nor- 
 wich, speaks of this practice in the outset 
 of " A proper New Ballad, entitled. The 
 Fairtes Farewell." 
 Farewell Rewards and Fairies ! 
 
 Good housewives now may say : 
 For now foul sluts in dairies 
 
 Do fare as well as they : 
 And though they sweep their hearths no less 
 
 Than maids were wont to do. 
 
 Yet who, of late, for cleanliness. 
 
 Finds sixpence in her shoe ? 
 
 The cheerful Prelate afterwards says, 
 in praise of the "> Goqd People>" 
 
 A telltale in their company 
 
 They never could endure ; 
 And whoso kept not secretly 
 
 Their mirth was punished sure ; 
 It was a just and Christian deed 
 To pinch such black and blue. 
 Q ! how the commonwealth doth need 
 
 Such justiees.as you ! 
 To the same effect, Herrick, who wrote 
 the glorious poem, " Corinna going a 
 Maying," gives goodly counsel and caution 
 to household maids, 
 
 If ye will with Mab find grace. 
 Set each platter in his place j 
 Rake the fire up, and get 
 
 Water in, ere sun be set. 
 Wash your pails, and cleanse your dairies. 
 
 Sluts are loathsome to the fairies : 
 Sweep your house : who doth not so, 
 Mab will pinch her by the toe. 
 
 The state dresses of their high and 
 mighty little Majesties are always de- 
 scribed as suitable to their quality. Two 
 pieces on this subject from The Rhapsody, 
 8vo. 1750, with some befitting alterations, 
 are at the reader's service. The first which 
 I find to have been abridged from Poole's 
 '< English Parnassus" is on 
 The Kinq. 
 Upon a time the Fairy elves. 
 Having newly dress'd themselves. 
 Thought it meet to clothe their kipg 
 In robes most fit for revelling, 
 They wrought a cobweb shirt mure thin 
 Than ever spiders since could spin ; 
 And bleach'd it in the whitest snow 
 When the northern winds do blow. 
 
 A rich waistcoat they did bring 
 Fo^mM of the trout fly's golden wing j 
 Dyed crimson in a maiden's blush. 
 And lined with humming bees' soft plueb. 
 
 His hosen and hia cassock were 
 Wove of the silken gossamer ; 
 And down the seams, with careful pace. 
 An unctuous snail drew curious lace. 
 
 His girdle was a wreath of pearls 
 
 Dropt from the eyes of silly girls, 
 
 Pinch'd because they had forgot 
 
 To sweep the hearth, and clean the pot, 
 
 His hat was all of ladies' love. 
 
 So passing light that it would move 
 
 If any gnat or tiny fly 
 
 But stirr'd the air in. passing by. 
 
 The next, in a different measure, closes 
 with a verse of agreeable sarcasm, and ends 
 the entertainment somewhat abruptly — 
 The Queen. 
 No sooner was their king attired 
 
 As prince had never been. 
 Than, as in duty was required. 
 
 They next array'd their queen. 
 With shining thread shot from the sui^ 
 
 And twisted iixto line. 
 They on the Wheel of Fortune spun 
 Her body-linen fine. 
 
 They made her gown of morning dawn 
 
 When Phcebus did but peep. 
 As by a poet's pencil drawn^ 
 
 In Chloris' lap asleep. 
 Its colour was all colours fair. 
 
 The rainbow gave the dip ; 
 Its perfume was the amber air 
 
 Drawn from a virgin's lip. 
 Her necklace was a subtile tye 
 
 Of glorious atom?, set 
 In the pure black of Beauty*s eye. 
 
 As they had been in jet. 
 Her shoes were lover's hopes abed. 
 
 So passing thin and light. 
 That all her care was how to tread ; 
 
 A thought would butst them quite. 
 
i29 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK..— DECEMBER 27. 
 
 1530 
 
 The revels ended, she put off ; 
 
 Because her grace was warm, 
 She fann'd her with a lady's scoff, 
 
 And so she took no harm. 
 
 Well Faibies 
 
 Hutchinson, in his History of Cumber- 
 land, spealcing of Eden-hall, says : " In 
 this house are some good old-fashioned 
 apartments. An old painted drinking 
 glass, called the ' Luck of Eden-hall,' is 
 preserved v?ith great care. In the garden, 
 ne»r to the house, is a well of excellent 
 spring -water, called St. Cuthbert's well 
 (the church is dedicated to that saint) ; 
 this glass is supposed to have been a 
 sacred chalice ; but the legendary tale is, 
 that the butler, going to draw water, sur- 
 prised a company of fairies who were 
 amusing themselves upon the green near 
 the well : he seized the glass which was 
 standing upon its margin ; they tried to 
 irecover it; but, after an ineffectual strug- 
 gle, flew awayj saying, 
 
 * If that glass either break or fall. 
 Farewell the luck of Eden-hall.' " 
 
 This cup is celebrated in the duke of 
 Wharton's ballad upon a remarkablfe 
 drinking match held at sir Christopher 
 Musgrave's. Another reading of the 
 lines said to have been left with it, is, 
 " Whene'er this cup shall break or fall. 
 Farewell the luck of Eden-hall." 
 
 Faikt Saddle. 
 
 Waldron, in his Description of the 
 Isle of Man, tells us that there is ih that 
 island, '• the fairies' saddle, a stone termed 
 so, as I suppose, from the similitude it 
 has of a saddle. - It seems to lie loose on 
 the edge of a small rock, and the wise 
 natives of Man tell you it is every iiight 
 made use of by the fairies, but what kind 
 of horses they are, on whose backs this is 
 put, I could never find any of them who 
 pretended to resolve me." The same 
 writer acquaints us that the Monks con- 
 fidently assert that the first inhabitants of 
 their island were fairies, and that these 
 little people have still their residence 
 among them. They call them the good 
 people, and say they live in wilds and 
 forests, and on mountains, and shun great 
 cities because of the wickedness acted 
 therein.* 
 
 • Brand. 
 
 Fairy Haunts, &c. 
 In a curious and rare book entitled 
 " Paradoxical Assertions, &o., by It. H." 
 1664j we read, that Englishmen " maintain 
 and defend the sacred hearth, as the sanc- 
 tuary and chief place of residence of the 
 tutelary lares and household gods, and 
 the only court where the lady Fairies con- 
 vene to dance and revel ?" 
 
 Aubrey, in his Miscellanies, says that> 
 " When Fairies remove from place to 
 place they are said to use the words 
 Horse and Hattock." 
 
 In Sir John Sinclair's Statistical 
 Account of Scotland, the intelligent 
 minister of the parishes of Strachur 
 and Stralachlan in Argyleshire, tells us, 
 that " About eight miles to the eastward 
 ofCailleach-vear, a small conical hill rises 
 considerably above the neighbouring hills. 
 It is seen from Inverary, and from many 
 parts at a great distance. It is called 
 Sien-Sluai, the fairy habitation of a mul- 
 titude. A belief in Fairies prevailed very 
 much in the Highlands of old j nor at 
 this day is it quite obliterated. A small 
 conical hill, called Sien, was assigned 
 them for a dwelling, from which melodi- 
 ous music was frequently heard, and 
 gleams of light seen in dark nights." 
 
 The account of Kirkmichael says, 
 " Not more firmly established in this 
 country is the belief in ghosts than that 
 in fairies. The legendary records of 
 fancy, transmitted from age to age, have 
 assigned their mansions to that class of 
 Genii, in detached hillocks covered with 
 verdure, situated on the banks of purling 
 brooks, or surrounded by thickets of wood. 
 These hillocks are called sioth-dhunan, 
 abbreviated sioth-anan, from sioth, peace, 
 and dun, a mound. They derive this 
 name from the practice of the druids, who 
 were wont occasionally to retire to green 
 eminences to administer justice, establish 
 peace, and compose differences between 
 contending parties. Their followers, when 
 they were no more, fondly imagined, that 
 seats where they exercised a Virtue so 
 beneficial to mankind, were still inhabited 
 by them in their disembodied state. In 
 the autumnal season, when the moon 
 shines from a serene sky, often is the way- 
 faring traveller arrested by the music of 
 the hills, more melodious than the strains 
 of Orpheus. Often, struck with a more 
 solemn scene, he beholds the visionary 
 hunters engaged in the chace, and pursu- 
 ing the deer of the clouds, while the hol- 
 low rocks, in long-sounding echoes, rever- 
 
1531 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27. 
 
 issa 
 
 berate their cries. About fifty years ago, 
 a clergyman in the neifhbourhood, whose 
 faith was more regulated by the scepti- 
 cism of Philosophy than the credulity of 
 Superstition, could not be prevailed upon 
 to yield his assent to the opin'O" of *e 
 times. At length, however, he felt from 
 experience, that he doubte'i what he 
 ought to have believed. One n'ght as he 
 was returning home, at a late hour, from 
 a presbytery, he was seized by the fairies, 
 and carried aloft into the air. Through 
 fields of aether and fleecy-douds he 
 journeyed many a mile, descrying, like 
 Sancho Panza on his Clavileno, the earth 
 far distant below him, and no bigger than 
 a nut-shell. Being thus sufficiently con- 
 vinced of the reality of their existence, 
 they let him down at the door of his own 
 house, where he afterward often recited to 
 the wondering circle the marvellous tale 
 of his adventure. These genii are still 
 supposed by many of the people lo exist 
 in the woods and sequestered valleys of 
 the mountains, where they frequently 
 appear to the lonely traveller, clothed in 
 green, with dishevelled hair floating over 
 their shoulders, and with faces more 
 blooming than the vermil blush of a sum- 
 mer morning. At night, in particular, 
 when fancy assimilates to its own pre- 
 conceived ideas every appearance and 
 every sound, the wandering enthusiast is 
 ^frequently entertained by their music, 
 more melodioils than he ever before heard. 
 
 Fairy Treasure. 
 
 In the Leverian museum were " Orbi- 
 cular sparry bodies,, commonly called 
 fairies' money, from the banks of the 
 Tyne, Northumberland." Ramon, a 
 character in the play of the Fatal Dowry,' 
 1632, says. 
 
 But not a word of it, 'tis fairies treasure ; 
 Which but reveal'd, brings on the blabber's 
 ruine. 
 
 Various works contain allusions to this 
 well-known trait of fairy mythology.* 
 
 Brownies. 
 
 Brownies, according to fairy legends, 
 were a sort of domestic fairies, extremely 
 useful, and performers of ail sorts of do- 
 mestic drudgery. 
 
 Milton describes the fairy character 
 answering to the Browny, who seems here 
 to be the same with Robin Goodfellow : 
 
 * Brand. 
 
 Tells how the drudging goblin swet. 
 To earn his cream-bowl duly set. 
 When in one night, ere glimpse of morn. 
 His shadowy flale hath thresh'd the corn 
 That ten day-lab'rers could not end ; 
 Then lays him down the lubbar-fiend. 
 And stvetch'd out all the chimney's length. 
 Basks at the fire his hairy strength. 
 And, crop-full, out of doors he flings. 
 Ere the first cock his matin rings* 
 
 Martin, in his descrip^on of the Shet- 
 land Isles, says : " It is not long since 
 every family of any considerable substance 
 in those islands was haunted by a spirit 
 they called Browny, which did several 
 sorts of work : and this was the reason 
 why they gave him offerings of the vari- 
 ous products of the place. Thus some, 
 when they charmed their milk, or brewed, 
 poured some milk and wort through the 
 hole of a stone called Browny's stone. — ■' 
 Browny was frequently seen in all the 
 most considerable families in these isles, 
 and north of Scotland, in the shape of a 
 tall man : but, within these twenty or 
 thirty years past, he is seen but rarely. — 
 There were spirits, also, that appeared in 
 the shape of women, horses, swine, cats, 
 and some like fiery balls, which would 
 follow men in the fields : but there have 
 been but few instances of these for forty 
 years past. — ^These spirits used to form 
 sounds in the air, resembling those of a 
 harp, pipe, crowing of a cock, and of the 
 grinding of querns ; and sometime they 
 thrice heard voices in the air by night, 
 singing Irish songs : the words of which 
 songs some of my acquaintance still 
 retain. One of them resembled ths voice 
 of a woman who had died some time 
 before, and the song related to her state 
 in the other world. — Below the chappels 
 (three chapels in the island of Valay) 
 there is a flat thin stone, called Brownie's 
 stone, upon which the ancient inhabitants 
 offered a cow's milk every Sunday : but 
 this custom is now quite abolished." 
 
 King James I., in his DaEmouology,says: 
 " Brownie appeared like a rough man, 
 and haunted divers houses without doing 
 any evill, but doing, as it were, necessarie 
 turnes up and downe the house; yet 
 some were so blinded as to beleeve that 
 their house was all the sonsier, as they 
 called it, that such spirits resorted there." 
 Dr. Johnson in his Journey to the 
 Western Islands, observes, " Browny was 
 a sturdy fairy, who, if he was fed, and 
 kindly treated, would, as they say, do a 
 great deal of wr'k. They now pay, him 
 
1533 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27. 
 
 153 
 
 no wages, and are content to labor for 
 themselves." 
 
 Robert Heron says, "The Brownie 
 was a very obliging spirit, who used to 
 come into houses by night, and, for a dish 
 of cream, to perform lustily any piece of 
 work that might remain to be done : 
 sometimes he would work, and sometimes 
 eat till he bursted : if old clothes were 
 laid out for him, he took them in great 
 distress,' and never more returned." 
 
 Knockers. 
 
 says, ' I call thee P. from the east, west, 
 south, and north, from the groves, woodS) 
 rivers, marshes, fairies white, red, black,' 
 &c. ; and, after uttering certain short 
 prayers, she returns home to the sick 
 person, to see whether it be the distemper 
 they call esane, which they suppose in* 
 flicted by the fairies, and, whispering in 
 his ear another short prayer, with the 
 pater-noster, puts some burning coals into 
 a cup of clear water, and forms a better 
 judgment of the disorder than most phy- 
 sicians." 
 
 Besides the common class of imaginary 
 beings called fairies, with whose qualities 
 we are familiar, through the story-books 
 of childhood ; we have accounts, on like 
 good authority, of another speciesj who 
 dwelt in the mines, where, it is said, they 
 were often heard to imitate the actions of 
 the workmen, whom they were thought 
 to be inclined to assist, and never, unless 
 provoked by insult, to injure. In Wales 
 they were called knockers, and were said 
 to point out the rich veins of silver and 
 lead. Some fairies are also said to have 
 resided in wells. 
 
 ■ Respecting " knockers," the Scottish 
 Encyclopedia says : " The belief of fairies 
 still subsists in many parts of our own 
 country. The * swart fairy of the mine' 
 (of German extraction) has scarce yet 
 quitted our subterraneous works. — The 
 Germans believed in two species of fairies 
 of the mines, one fierce and malevolent, 
 the other a gentle race, appearing like 
 little old men dressed like miners, and 
 not much above two feet high." Our 
 " knockers" are described by Mr. John 
 Lewis, in bis correspondence with Mr. 
 Baxter, as little statured, and about half 
 rd long : he adds, " at this very in- 
 * ^^ there are miners on a discovery of 
 slant n of metal, and two of them are 
 a vei to make oath they have heard these 
 ready ers in the day-timei" 
 
 knock •■ — 
 
 Fairy Sickness., 
 
 Camden, in his "Ancient and Modern 
 Manners of the^ Irish," says, " When 
 any one happens to fall, he springs up 
 again, and, turning round three times to 
 the right, digs the earth with a sword or 
 knife, and takes up a turf, because, they 
 say, the earth reflects his shadow to him 
 (or they imagine there is a spirit iii the 
 earth) : and, if he falls sick within two or 
 three days after, a woman skilled in thpse 
 matters is sent to the spot, and there 
 
 Elf Shots. 
 
 Fairies were thought to shoot cattle with 
 arrows headed with flint-stohes, which 
 were often found and called elf-shots. 
 
 (fcUins, in the Ode on the Popular 
 Superstitions of the Highlands, says ; 
 There, ev'ry herd by sad experience knows 
 
 How, win'g'd with fate, their elf-shot arrows 
 
 fly. 
 
 When the sict ewe her summer-food foregoes. 
 
 Or stretch'd on earth the heart-smit heifers 
 lie. 
 
 In the " Survey of the South of Ire- 
 land," there is this passage, — " I have 
 seen one of those elf-stones like a thin 
 triangular flint, not half an inch in dia- 
 meter, with which they suppose the fairies 
 destroy their cows. And when these 
 animals are seized with a certain disorder, 
 to which they are very incident, they say 
 they are elf-ihot." 
 
 A cow, or other animal, supposed to 
 have been injured by these missiles, was 
 to be touched with one of them, or to 
 be made to drink of the water in which 
 one of them had been dipped. 
 
 The origin of these fairy weapons is of 
 high antiquity; they were either flint 
 arrow-heads used by our ancestors, in 
 battle or chase, or tools of ordinary ser^ 
 vice in a barbarous state of society, befor? 
 iron was known.* 
 
 Fairy Rings. 
 
 Fairies were thought to have their 
 haunts in groves or on mountains,the south- 
 ern side of hills, and in verdant meadows^ 
 where their diversion was dancing hand 
 in hand in a circle. The traces of their 
 tiny feet are supposed to remain visible 
 on the grass a long time afterwards, and 
 are called " Fairy Rings," or circles. 
 
 Moses Pitt, in a scarce tract, relates 
 
 * Brand, 
 
lS35 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 2f. 
 
 r536 
 
 that his female Servant, " Anne jefferies 
 (for that was her maiden natne) was botn 
 in the parish of St. Teath, in the county 
 of Cornwall, in December, 1626, and is 
 still living, 1696, aged 70. She is mar- 
 ried to one William Warren, formerly 
 hind to the late eminent physician, Dr. 
 Richard Lower, deceased, and now to 
 Sir Andrew Slanning of Devon, Bart. 
 A. D. 1645 ; as she was one day sitting 
 knitting in an arbour in the garden, there 
 came over the hedge, of a sudden, six 
 persons of a small stature, all clothied in 
 green, which frightened her so much as 
 to throw her into a great sickness. They 
 continued their apppearance to her, never 
 less than two at a time nor ever more 
 than eight, always in even numbers, two, 
 four, six, eight. She forsook eating our 
 victuals, and was fed by these fairies 
 from the harvest time to the next Christ- 
 mas; upon which day she came to our 
 table and said, because it was that day 
 she would eat some roast beef with us, 
 which she did, I myself being then at 
 table. One day she gave me a piece of 
 her (fairy) bread, whichi I did eat, and 
 think it was the most delicious bread 
 that ever I did eatj either before or since.'' 
 Moses Pitt again says " On another day 
 these fairies gave my sister Mary a silver 
 cup, which held about a quart, bidding 
 her give it my mother, but my mother 
 would not accept it. I presume this was 
 the time my sister owns she saw the 
 fairies. I confess to your Lordship I 
 never did see them. I have seen Anne 
 in the orchard dancing among the trees, 
 and she told me she was then dancing 
 with the fairies." It appears that Anne 
 was afterwards thrown into jail as an im- 
 postor; but the friendly narrator of her 
 singular story, Moses Pitt, does not give 
 any plausible account why the fairies, like 
 false earthly friends, forsook her in the 
 time of her distress, 
 
 To dance on ringlets to the whistling wind. 
 Mids> N, Dream. Act. ii. sec. 2. 
 
 Dr. Grey observes, in his notes on 
 Shakspeare,' that " ringlets of grass are 
 very common in meadows, which are 
 higher, sowrer, and of a deeper green 
 than the grass that grows round them: 
 and by the common people are usually 
 called fairy circles." We have in Shak- 
 speare's Tempest, act v. sc. 1. 
 
 " Ye elves you demy puppets that 
 
 By moon-shine do the green-SOur ringlets make 
 Whereof the ewe not bites." 
 
 Draylon, speaking of the fairies, says; 
 They in their couTses make that round 
 In meadows and in marches found 
 Of them so called the fairy ground, 
 According to Olaus Magnus, this cause 
 of the circles in the grass called fairy 
 rings was a general belief with ' the 
 northen nations : many of our own poets 
 allude to these fairjf rihgS, and adbpt the 
 prevailing persuasion. 
 
 Browlie, in his Britannia's Pastorals, 
 describes 
 
 a pleasant mead. 
 Where fairies often did their measures tread. 
 Which in the meadows made such circles green 
 A.i if with garlands it had crowned been. 
 Within one of these rounds was to be seen 
 A hillock rise, where oft the fairy-queen 
 At twilight sat. 
 
 The author of "Round about oiit 
 Coal Fire," treating of fairies, says, ''they 
 had fine music always among themselves, 
 and dahced in a raobn-shiny night, arouiid 
 or in a ring, as one may see at this' day 
 upon every common in England , where 
 mushroomes grow." , . . 
 
 One of the "Six Pastorals" by George 
 Smith, the painter of ChicSSter, refers to 
 the popular belief. , 
 
 Some sa^ the schreech-o^, at each midiught 
 hour. 
 
 Awakes the fairies in yon antient tow'r. 
 
 Their nightly-dancing ring I always dread, 
 
 Nor let my sheep within that circle tread ; 
 
 Where round and round all night, in moon- 
 light fair. 
 
 They dance to some stra,nge musick in the air- 
 It is still a vulgar notion that if a house 
 
 be built upon the ground where the fairy 
 
 rings are, whoever becomes the inhabitant 
 
 will wonderfully prosper. 
 
 The most clear and satisfactory re- 
 marks on the origin of fairy rings are 
 probably those of Dr. WoUaston, Sec. 
 R. S. printed in the second part of the 
 Philosophical Transactions for 1807; made 
 during a few years residence in the 
 country. The cause of these appearances 
 he ascribes to the growth of a certain 
 species of Agaric, which so entirely ab- 
 sorbs all nutriment from the soil beneath 
 that the herbage is for a while destroyed.* 
 
 h. m. 
 December 27.-^Day breaks . 6 
 
 Sun rises ..87 
 — sets . . 3 53 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 
 
 * Brand. 
 
153T 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— DECEMBER 27. 
 
 1538 
 
 STOURBRIDGE-FAIR BOOTH. 
 
 The preceding engraving is a sectional 
 view of the usual interior of the booths 
 occupied by dealers attending Stourbridge 
 feir. The j^oni of the booth is under the 
 colonnade, which, here, is represented at 
 the side, for the purpose of showing the 
 arrangement wilhin-side. Passengers 
 walked under this colonnade and entered 
 the booth by the front door, between the 
 windows, wliere they found a shop about 
 thirty feet by eighteen, with well stored 
 shelves, and counters for serving the cus- 
 tomers. A door in this shop, opposite to 
 the entrance door from the colonnade, 
 communicated with an apartment, serving 
 as a living-room and bed-room for the 
 occupants of.the booth. The lesser booth, 
 or sleeping room, and the larger booth, or 
 shop, were' roofed with plank, and over 
 that roofing was a stout tarpaulin, or hair- 
 cloth. The colonnade was merely co- 
 vered in with hair-cloth to screen passen- 
 gers from sunshine and rain. > 
 No. 49. 
 
 During the equinoxial gales, about 
 fifty-five years ago, a sudden storm at 
 Stourbridge-fair unroofed most of the 
 booths in Ironmongers, Shoemakers, and 
 Garlick-row, and blew boards and goods 
 across several fields. 
 
 There is a brief account of Stourbridge 
 fair, but very descriptive of its ancient 
 consequence, in the Every- Day Book, 
 i. 1300—1305. An officer of the fair, 
 called the " Lord of the Tap," is men- 
 tioned in the same -volume, 1487. The 
 interesting letter on the next page com- 
 pletes that account. It was sent by the 
 venerable contributor too late for isser 
 tion in the Eiien/-Dm/ Book. 
 
 3 D 
 
1539 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK —DECEMBER 27. 
 
 1540 
 
 STOURBRIDGE FAIR. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 I am a septuagenarian, and the following 
 are my personal recollections of more 
 than sixty years ago, concerning the once 
 vast fair at Stourbridge, or Stirbitch, 
 about two miles from Cambridge, from 
 the 16th September until old Michaelmas 
 day. It was held in an open field, bor- 
 dering on the high road from Cambridge 
 to Newmarket, through which is a cart 
 road leading to Chesterton, a pretty rural 
 village, with a good church and a hand- 
 some spire, on the north bank of the river 
 Cam, over which is a ferry. 
 
 Like all other fairs, your ears inform 
 you before your eyes, that you are on 
 the way to it. After passing Barnwell, 
 the numerous booths and long ranges of 
 standings burst on the sight, and the 
 clamor of trumpets, deep sounding drums, 
 screaming of toy-trumpets, and din of a 
 thousand discordant voices assailed the 
 ear and -confused the thoughts. The first 
 booths (C in the plan) on the north side 
 of the road, were occupied by the cus- 
 tomary shows of wild beasts and wild 
 men, conjurors, tumblers, and rope- 
 dancers. Mrs. Baker's company of 
 " comedians " was respectable; and 
 Lewy Owen, the clown, a young man of 
 good family, who had abandoned himself 
 to this way of life, full of eccentric wit 
 and grimace, continually excited broad 
 grins. The late Mrs. Inchbald was a 
 performer at this fair. There was a large 
 theatrical booth, occupied by a respect- 
 able company of comedians from Norwich, 
 rinder the management of Mr. Bailey, 
 forrnerly a merchant of London. He was 
 a portly good looking man, of gentlemanly 
 manners and address, the compiler of 
 the Directory bearing his name, a work 
 of much merit, containing, besides the 
 names of residents in the several towns, 
 concise yet correct topographical descrip- 
 tion of the places : the book is now be- 
 come very scarce. Other show booths, 
 occupied by giants and dwarfs, savage 
 beasts, and other savages, extended with 
 stunning din along this noisy line. In 
 front of these were the fruit and ginger- 
 bread stalls; and, walnuts being in full 
 perfection, the venders continually strolled 
 np and down the fair, bawling every 
 moment in your ear — " Twenty a penny 
 walnuts I Walnuts, twenty a penny ! 
 Crack 'um awoy — crack 'um awoy here !" 
 
 On the south side of the road opposite to 
 these booths was the cheese fair (E). 
 Dealers from various parts took their 
 stands there, and many tons weight were 
 disposed of; such as were fit for the 
 London market were bought by the fac- 
 tors from thence, and cheese fromCheshire, 
 Wilts, and Gloster, by the gentry, the 
 farmers, and dealers from Suffolk, Nor- 
 folk, and adjoining counties : large quan- 
 tities of Cottenham and cream cheeses, 
 being brought by farmers from those 
 counties for sale. Opposite to the east 
 end of the cheese fair, on the north side of 
 the road, stands a small ancient chapel, 
 or oratory (A), no doubt erected for the 
 devout dealers and others resorting to the 
 fair, and for such pious travellers as 
 passed or repassed the ferry to Chesterton. 
 At and nigh to this spot were the wool 
 fair (F), and the hop-fair (G). Large 
 stores of stack-cloths, waggon-lilts, and 
 such like were near the skm leather 
 sellers' and glover's row (N), where the 
 finer articles of leather and leather gloves 
 were sold. Little edifices of general 
 convenience (L) were numerous. At the 
 end of the show-booths, snd facing this 
 row, began the principal range of booths, 
 called Garlick-row (M, M), extending 
 quite down to the little inn (B), where a 
 Pied-poudre court was held during the fair. 
 This range of shops was well constructed. 
 Each booth consisted of two rooms, the 
 back room, separated from the shop by 
 a boarded partition, served for a bed- 
 chamber and other domestic purposes, 
 from which a back door opened to the 
 field. The range of booths No. 1 was 
 generally appropriated to furniture-sellers, 
 ironmongers, silversmiths, jewellers, ja- 
 paners, and fine cutlery dealers : the 
 range No. 2 to silk mercers, dealers in 
 muslin, toys, and millinery. No. 3, to 
 dealers in Norwich and Yorkshire manu- 
 factures, mercery, lace, hose, fine made 
 shoes, boots, clogs, and pattens. — No. 4, 
 to furs, fans, toys, and to dealers in the 
 various articles of fashionable wares from 
 London. — No. 5 was occupied by oil- 
 men and dealers in paints, pickles, and 
 Preserves, one of whom, Mr. Green from 
 limehouse, kept a most important store 
 here : his returns were from £1500 to 
 £2000 during the fair ; and my father, who 
 kept the fair forty years and upwards, 
 usually brought home £1000, or more for 
 goods sold and paid for, besides selling 
 to half that amount on credit to reputable 
 dealers and farmers. At the end of the 
 
lS41 
 
 TtfE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27 
 
 1542 
 
 i\r 
 
 Gai^to JStfry 
 
 ^— f 
 
 li ■ 
 
 :b 
 
 S 
 
 Wagyon ClolA 
 ana Saa/iif^ 
 
 .[], 
 
 3^ ■ ^r" IT 
 
 .b m t 
 
 33 I: d fli 
 
 [I 
 
 ^ 
 &. 
 
 ^ 
 © 
 
 !» 
 
 
 c c C C f l I 
 
 
 I ; I I 1 I I 1 I n t M l I 1 1 11 I I 
 
 ■w 
 
 X 
 
 liH 
 
 Lb 
 
 | iiiii i U K 
 2!>Se Jews Harp 
 
 nBed^dlruf: 
 Fmnitun 
 
 L 
 
 ■ •TTK- 7 
 
 "_ 1 1 111 ijl 1 1 "^ ,■ is / 
 
 ae^® IP.X.SMI CAMISRHBGE T9 jvBwmA^iKm'p. 
 
 I I t M I I 1 I ' ' ■ I 1 I 
 
 IK i I ^^^ 
 
 12 
 
 PLAN OF STOUKBRIDGE FAIR. 
 
1543 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— DECEMBER 27. 
 
 1J44 
 
 row, close to the little inn (B), stood tlie 
 dealers in glass-ware, looking-glasses, and 
 small articles of mahogany furniture. 
 Then the inn itself, the sign of which was, . 
 I believe, the King's Arms, was the com- 
 mon resort of the horse dealers. In this 
 house sat the Pied-poudre court, with 
 power to arbitrate disputes in dealing, 
 quell riots, fine and otherwise punish 
 su mmarily, persons guilty of petty ofTences, 
 having a pair of stocks and a whipping 
 post in front, and a strong room under- 
 neath. Close adjoining northward was 
 the oyster fair. The oysters brought from 
 Lynn were very large, about the size of a 
 horse's hoof, and were opened with pin- 
 cers ; the more delicate, from Colchester 
 and Whitstable, were very small. In the 
 . meadow adjoining were the coal fair, 
 pottery fair, and Staffordshire ware dealers 
 (W, W, W). The greater part of these 
 articles were delivered from on board ves- 
 sels, which drew up close to the bank of 
 the river. Returning and opposite to the 
 oyster fair was a close, where the horse 
 fair was kept (T). The show of beautiful 
 animals in that place was perhaps unri- 
 valled, unless in Yorkshire. The finest 
 racers and hunters from Yorkshire, the 
 most bony and muscular draught horses 
 from Suffolk, and from every other coun- 
 try famous for breeding horses, animated 
 this scene. This horse fair drew together 
 a great concourse of gentry, farmers, and 
 dealers from all parts of the neighbouring 
 counties, and scores of valuable animals 
 changed masters in the short space of a 
 few hours. The horse fair was held on 
 the first Friday after Stirbitch fair was 
 proclaimed. Higher up and about fifty 
 yards from the road was Ironmonger's- row 
 (P), with booths occupied by manufac- 
 turers from Sheffield, Birmingham, Wol- 
 verhampton, and other parts ; and dealers 
 in agricultural tools, nails, hatchets, saws, 
 and such like implements. About twenty 
 yards nearer the road were woollen dra- 
 pers ; and further on, and opposite to 
 Garlick-row westward, were booths (X) 
 for slop-sellers, and dealers in haubergs 
 or waggoners-frocks, jackets, half-boots, 
 and such like habiliments for robust 
 ploughmen and farm laborers. Then fol- 
 lowed the Hatter's-row (Y), close to which 
 was a very respectable coffee-house and 
 tavern (Q), fitted up with neat tables 
 covered with green baize, having glazed 
 sash windows and a boarded floor ; kept 
 by the proprietor of Dockrell's coffee- 
 house, in Cambridge, famed for excellent 
 
 milk punch. There were likewise a num- 
 ber of suttling booths (I, K), where plain 
 and substantial dinners were served up in 
 a neat comfortable style, well cooked, and 
 moderately charged, except on the horse 
 fair and Michaelmas days, when an extra 
 sixpence generally was tackt to the tail of 
 the goose. 
 
 The Robin Hood (H), at the back of 
 Garlick-row, near the basket fair, stood 
 pre-eminent. There, after the business 
 of the day was over, and most commonly 
 on the evening of the horse fair day, 
 novices, who had come to keep the fair, 
 were initiated, or " christened." The for- 
 mula is as follows : — The fresh man was 
 introduced to the elder members in the 
 " parlor" of the Robin-hood, and two 
 sponsors having been previously chosen 
 for him, he was placed in an armed-chair, 
 his head uncovered, and his shoes off. 
 Two vergers, holding staves and lighted 
 candles, assisted the officiator, who was 
 vested in a Cantab's gown and cap, with a 
 bell in one hand and a book in the other. 
 He commenced the ceremony by asking, 
 " Is this an Infidel ?" R. " Yes." Q. 
 " What does he require ?" R. " Instruc- 
 tion (or to be instructed)." Q. " Where 
 are the sponsors? — let them stand for- 
 ward 1" A bowl of punch, or a bottle of 
 wine, was placed on the table handy for 
 the officiator, who then chaunted the fol- 
 lowing doggrel : — 
 
 1. 
 Over thy head I ring this bell. 
 Because thou art an infidel. 
 And I know thee by thy smell. — 
 Chorus — With a hoccius proxius mandamus. 
 Let nu vengeance light on him. 
 And so call upon him. 
 2. 
 ^"his child was bom in the merry month of 
 May, 
 Clap a pound of butter to his cheehf and it 
 
 will soon melt away. 
 And if he longs for a sop, let him have it I 
 
 pray— 
 Chorus — From his hoccius, &c. 
 
 3. 
 This child's shoes are made of running leather. 
 He'll run from father and mother the deuce 
 
 knows whither. 
 And here he may run the length of his tether— 
 Ohonu — ^To a hoccius, &c. 
 
 4. 
 This child now to Stirbitch fair is come. 
 He may wish to kiss a pretty wench ere he 
 
 returns home. 
 But let bim be advis'd and not to Barnwell 
 
 roam-^ 
 C/iorua — For a hoccius, &c. 
 
1545 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27. 
 
 1546 
 
 At this part the ofBciator, with all due 
 gravity, turned round, and inquired. — 
 Q. "Who names this child?" R. 
 " We do." The sponsors then called 
 him " Nimble heels,"— " Stupid Slephen," 
 — " Tommy Simper," or other ludicrous 
 nick-names. The ofiiciator then drank, 
 and gave the novice a full bumper. 
 
 5. 
 
 " Nimble-heeU" henceforward shall be his 
 
 name. 
 Which to confess let him not feel shame. 
 Whether *fore master, miss, or dame — 
 Chorus — With a hoccius, &c. 
 
 This child first having paid his dues. 
 
 Is welcome then to put on his shoes. 
 
 And sing a song, or tell a merry tale, as he 
 
 may choose — 
 Chorus — About a hoccius, &c. 
 
 A verse, which memory can aflFord to 
 forget, intervenes before the next. 
 
 8. 
 Then hand the can unto our jolly friar. 
 And laugh and sing as we sit round the lire. 
 And when our wine is out let all to bed 
 
 retire — 
 Chorus — With a hoccius proxius mandamus. 
 Let no vengeance light on him. 
 And so call upon him. 
 
 ^ 
 
 =6= 
 
 P^-P- 
 
 H > ^ y ^ 
 
 Over thy liead I ring this bell Audi know thee 
 Because thou art an infidel, &c. 
 
 by thy smell 
 
 i 
 
 ^g^ 
 
 With a hoc 
 
 cius prox 
 
 man da 
 
 I 
 
 «-L 
 
 t ^' r c, ;. t H P ^' ^ 
 
 I 
 
 Let no vengeance light on him And so call 
 
 up 
 
 him 
 
 If more than one novice offered to the 
 ceremony, they vfere initiated together, 
 and the words which required it were 
 changed from singular to plural. Supper 
 was then brought in and placed on a long 
 table, formed of rough deal boards, co- 
 vered with green baize. The provisions 
 consisted generally of good substantia] fair- 
 keeping fare ; such as roast goose, fowls, 
 pork, vegetables, fruit pies, and bread, 
 which altogether were charged at the 
 moderate price of one shilling a head. 
 Malt liquor, punch, and wine, might be 
 had ad libitum. Smokers ranged them- 
 selves round the fire, and the night closed 
 like other convivial assemblies, but always 
 in good humor, and without dispute- 
 Good stout watchmen went their 
 rounds about the fair every half-hour, 
 giving notice of their approach by bawl- 
 
 ing out lustily — " Look aboat you there !" 
 but they seldotn detected, or disturbed, 
 any nefarious operations. 
 
 I will take up little more room than to 
 observe, that the proclamation of the fair 
 was conducted in a splendid style, and 
 with becoming dignity, by the mayor of 
 Cambridge, habited in a scarlet robe, at- 
 tended by his mace-bearers, aldermen, 
 and othei^members of the corporation, all 
 habited according to their degrees, with a 
 few members of the church. The caval- 
 cade having arrived at the top of Garlick- 
 row, near the old chapel, the recorder 
 there read the proclamation. They then 
 proceeded to the court-house, or little inn 
 (B)J* where it was again read; and then 
 the mayor alighted with his principal of- 
 ficers, and entered the iim,where he opened 
 the court of pied-poudre. Afterwards re- 
 
1547 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 144& 
 
 turning to the centre of the fair, near the 
 coffee-house (Q), proclamation was then 
 made, and sometimes the mayor alighted 
 and took refreshment. More usually the 
 civic party returned to Cambridge, where 
 a good corporation-dinner closed the cor- 
 porate labors of the day. 
 
 'Fhe principal London dealers, who at- 
 tended the fair, at the time I refer to, 
 which is more tlian sixty years ago, were 
 as follows : — 
 
 Mr. Roake, ironmonger, from Wood 
 Street. 
 
 Mr. Smith, silversmith, from Cornhill, 
 
 Messrs. Cox and Heme, silk mercers, 
 from Holborn. Mr. Cox was also proprietor 
 of the glass-house, at the iron-foundry. — 
 Their stock of silks at the fair was never 
 less than £2000. 
 
 Mr. Smith, silk-mercer, from Fleet 
 Street. 
 
 AJr. Hewitt, toyman, from Smithfleld. 
 
 Mr. Hdynes, Norwich warehouse, from 
 Holborn : his stock very large ; he has 
 sold on the first day of the fair 100 pieces 
 of Hessens before breakfast. 
 
 Mr. Lacy, hosier, from Clements' Inn 
 passage, with a stock of £1500. 
 ■ Mr. Timewell, milliner, from Tavistock 
 Street. 
 
 Mr. Lany, laceman, from the same 
 place. 
 
 Mr. Bolt, lacemaii, from Sidney's 
 Alley. The stock of goods of these two 
 were of the richest kinds, as well as in- 
 ferior. 
 
 Mr. Murray, shoe-maker, from Bi- 
 shopsgate. 
 
 Mr. Adams, clog and patten-maker, 
 from Shoreditch, 
 
 Mr. Wilson, iine toys, from Charing 
 Cross. 
 
 Mr, Green, oils and pickles, from 
 Limehouse. His store was wonderful 
 for such a place. 
 
 All the above dealers were in Garlick 
 Row, and few of them took less money 
 during the fair than from £1000 to 
 £1500, some of them more. 
 
 Mr. Monnery, leather sfller and 
 glover, from high Street, Southwark, had 
 a large trade in gloves and leather, and 
 Was a man highly respected. 
 
 Mr. Ward, whip-maker, from the 
 Borough, had a very considerable stock. 
 The handsome widow of Mr. Reddish, 
 the player of Drury-lane theatre, Was 
 under his protection : the writer was 
 under the tuition of Mr. R.'s father, who 
 kept a school atWandSworth. 
 
 Many other traders of great respect- 
 ability kept this fair, especially dealers in 
 iron, wool, slops, cheese, and pottery. 
 
 I omitted to notice that the Shoemaker- 
 row was at the end of Garlick-row, and 
 consisted of about ten or twelve booths ; 
 — that the basket fair, Tunbridge-ware 
 fair, and broom fair, were behind Garlick- 
 row, near the top : the openings denoted 
 in the plan were for convenience of going 
 to them. In the basket fair were to 
 be had all kinds of hampers, baskets, 
 and basket- work ; hay-racks, scythe-hafts, 
 pitch-fork, and spade-handles ; and other 
 implements of husbandry, waggon loads 
 of which were piled up : a Mr. Fowler, 
 of Sheffield, in Bedfordshire, bought a 
 considerable stock of such materials. At 
 the Tunbridge-ware fair, were corn and 
 malt shovels, churns, cheese presses, and 
 a variety of snch goods. 
 
 If any materials, or goods, were not 
 taken ayiray within forty-eight hours after 
 the fair had ended, the farmer of the fair- 
 field had a lien on them, and a sharp look 
 out was usually kept for such waifs and 
 strays by his men. 
 
 The importance of Stirbitch fair may 
 be estimated by the great extent of 
 ground it occupied. The circuit of the 
 fair, beginning at the first show booth 
 round by the cheese fair, the wool fair, 
 and hop fair ; then onwards to Iron- 
 monger's-row, to the horse fair; north- 
 ward on to the pottery fair, along the 
 margin of the Cam, by the coal fair; 
 then southward to the outside of the Inn, 
 and proceeding in a direct line by the 
 basket fair to the point whence you started > 
 made full three miles. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 SHNYA. ■ 
 Alias, Nimble Heels, 
 The name given me at Stour- 
 bridge fair sixty-five years ago. 
 
 Somers Town, 
 13th Sept. 1827. 
 
 Mtctxnttv 28. 
 
 This was the death day of Logan, the 
 poet, who disappointed of the profes- 
 sorship of History in the University of 
 Edinburgh wrote the tragedy of Run- 
 nomede which was interdicted for pa- 
 triotism by the lord chamberlain, and 
 subjected him to the persecution by the 
 presbytery of the church of Scotland. 
 He withdrew upon a small annuity to 
 
1549 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 1;5S0 
 
 London, where he rerie^ed, wrote serr 
 mons and lectures on Roman history, and 
 minor poems, and perished not of penury 
 but of a broken heart.* 
 
 <ffljarm0. 
 
 Rural Charms. 
 
 Sir Thomas Brown, in his " Quincunx 
 artificially considered," mentions a rural 
 charm against dodder, tetter, and strang- 
 ling weeds, by placing " a chalked tile at 
 the four corners, and one in the imiddle 
 of the field, which, though ridiculous in 
 the intention, was rational in the con- 
 trivance, and a good way to diffuse the 
 magic through all parts of the area." 
 
 The three following rural charms occur 
 in Herrick's Hesperides, 
 
 1 
 
 This I'lo tell ye by the way. 
 Maidens when ye leavens lay. 
 Cross your dow And your dispatch 
 Will be better for your batch. 
 
 In the morning when ye rise. 
 
 Wash your hands and cleanse your eyes, 
 
 Next be sure ye have a care 
 
 To disperse the water farre 
 
 For as farre as that doth light, 
 
 So farre keeps the evil spright. 
 
 3 
 
 If ye fear to be afinghted. 
 
 When ye are (by chance) benighted : 
 
 In your pocket for a trust 
 
 Cany nothing but a crust : 
 
 For that holie piece of bread 
 
 Charmes the danger and the dread. 
 
 There is mention of older charms in 
 Bale's interlude concerning the laws of 
 Nature, Moses, and Christ, 4to. 1552. 
 Idolatry says : 
 
 With blessynges of Saynt Germayne 
 
 I will me so determyne 
 
 That neyther fox nor vennyne 
 Shall do my,chyckens harine. 
 
 For your gese seke saynt Legearde, 
 
 And for your duckes saynt Leonardo, 
 There is no better charme. 
 
 Take me a napkin folte 
 With the byas of a bolte. 
 For the healing of a colte 
 
 Ko better thynge can be : 
 For lampes and for bottes 
 Take me saynt Wilfrid's knottes, 
 And holy saynt Thomas Lottes, 
 
 On my life I warrande ye. 
 
 * Calamities of Authors, 1. 210. 
 
 And good saynt Francis Gyrdle, 
 With the hamlet of a hyrdle. 
 
 Are wholsome for the pyppe : 
 Besydcs these charmes afore 
 I have feates many more 
 Thut kepe still in store. 
 
 Whom now I over hyppe. 
 
 Ady, by his " Candle in the Dark, 
 1655," helps us to another charm. He 
 says, an old woman in Essex came 
 into a house at a time when as the 
 maid was churning of butter, and having 
 labored long and could not make her 
 butter come, the old woman told the maid 
 what was wont to be done when she was 
 a maid, and also in her mother's young 
 time, that if it happened their butter 
 would not come readily, they used a 
 charm to be said over it, whilst yet it 
 was in beating, and it would come 
 straightways, and that was this ; 
 
 Come butter, come, 
 Come butter, come, 
 Peter stands at the gate. 
 Waiting for a butter'd cake. 
 Come butter, come. 
 
 This, said the old woman, being said 
 three times, will make your butter come, 
 for it was taught my mother by a learned 
 chureh-man in queen Mary's days, when 
 as church-men had more cunning, and 
 could teach people many a trick, that 
 our ministers now a days know not. 
 
 In " Whimzies : oi^ a new Cast of 
 Characters,'.' 12mo. 1631, the author, in 
 his description of a ballad-monger, says 
 " His ballads, cashiered the city, must 
 now ride poast for the country : where 
 they are no lesse admired tljan a gyant 
 in a pageant : till at last they grow so 
 common there too, as every poor milk- 
 maid can chant and chirp it under her 
 cow, which she useth as an harmelesse 
 charme to make her let down her milk." 
 
 Grose tells us as a superstition, that 
 " a slunk or abortive calf, buried in the 
 highway over which cattle frequently 
 pass, will greatly prevent that misfortune 
 happening to cows. This is commonly 
 practised in Suffolk." 
 
 Lupton, in his third Book of Notable 
 Things, 1660, says : Mousear, any man- 
 ner of way administered to horses, brings 
 this help unto them, that they cannot be 
 hurt, whiles the smith is shooing of them, 
 therefore It is called of many, herba 
 clavorum, the herb of nails." 
 
 Coles, in his Art of Simpling, says ; 
 " If a footman take mugwort and put into 
 his shoes in the morning, he may goe 
 
155i 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 1552 
 
 forty miles before noon, and not be 
 weary." He further instatices the potency 
 of many herbs as charms. 
 
 The same author, in his Adam in Eden, 
 tells us: " It is said, yea, and believed 
 by many, that moonwort will open the 
 locks wherewith dwelling-houses are made 
 fast, if it be put into the key-hole; as 
 also that it will loosen the locks, fetters, 
 and shoes from those horses' feet that goe 
 on the places where it groweth ; and of 
 this opinion was Master Culpepper, who, 
 though he railed against superstition in 
 others, yet had enough of it hiraselfe, as 
 may appear by his story of the earle of 
 Essex his horses, which, being drawn up 
 in a body, many of them lost their shoos 
 upon White Downe, in Devonshire, neer 
 Tiverton, because moonwort grows upon 
 heaths." 
 
 Rue was hung about the neck, as an 
 amulet against witchcraft, in Aristotle's 
 time. Shakspeare, in Hamlet, has this 
 passage : " There's rue for you, and 
 here's some for me. We may call it 
 herb of grace on Sundays." Rue was 
 called herb of grace by the country peo- 
 ple ; probably for the reason assigned by 
 Warburton, that it was used on Sundays 
 by the Romanists in their exorcisms. 
 
 Charms, and superstitious preservatives 
 against thunder, are frequently mentioned 
 by old authors. In Greene's Penelope's 
 Web, &c., 4to., 1601, we read; "He 
 which weareth the bay-leaf is privileged 
 from the prejudice of thunder." And, in 
 the old play of « The White Devil," 
 Cornelia says : 
 
 ' — Keach the bays : 
 I'll tie a garland here about his head^ 
 'Twili keep my boy from lightning. 
 
 Also in " A strange Metamorphosis of 
 Man, transformed into a Wildernesse, 
 deciphered in Characters," 12mo. 1634; 
 under the bay tree, it is observed, that it 
 is " so privileged by nature, that even 
 thunder and lightning are here even taxed 
 of partiality, and will not touch him for 
 respect's sake, as a sacred thing." Again, 
 cited fronfi some old English poet, in 
 Bodenham's " Belvedere, or the Garden 
 of the Muses," 8vo. 1600, we read : 
 
 As thunder nor fierce lightning harmes the 
 
 bay, 
 So no extremitie hath power on fame. 
 
 In " Jonsonus Virbius," Verses upon 
 Ben Jonson, by Henry King, bishop of 
 Chichester, is an elegant compliment to 
 the memory of that poet, in allusion to 
 
 the superstitious idea of laurel being a 
 defensative against thunder : 
 
 I see that wreath/ which doth the wearer 
 
 arme 
 'Gainst the quick stroaKes of thunder, is no 
 
 charme 
 To keepe off death's pale dart : for (Jonson) 
 
 then. 
 Thou hadst been numbered still with living 
 
 men : 
 Time's sythe had fear'd thy laurel to invade. 
 Nor thee this subject of our sorrow made. 
 
 So, also, Leigh, in his observations on 
 the first twelve Caesars, Svo. 1647, speak- 
 ing of Tiberius Caesar, says ; " He feared 
 thunder exceedingly, and when the aire 
 or weather was any thing troubled, he 
 ever carried a chaplet or wreath of lawrell 
 about his neck, because that (as Pliny 
 reporteth) is never blasted witji lightning." 
 The same author, in his Life of Augustus, 
 mentions a similar charm. " He was so 
 much afraid of thunder and lightning, 
 that he ever carried about with him, for 
 a preservative remedy, u scale's skinne." 
 Here a note adds, " or of a sea-calfe, 
 which, as Plinie writeth, checketh all 
 lightnings.'' 
 
 In Hill's " Natural and Artificial Con- 
 clusions," 8vo, 1670, is " A natural 
 meanes to preserve your house in safety 
 from thunder and lightning. An ancient 
 author recited (among divers other expe- 
 riments of nature which he had found 
 out) that if the herb housleek, or syngreen, 
 do grow on the housetop, the same house 
 is never stricken with lightning or thun- 
 der." It is still common, in many parts 
 of England, to plant the herb house-leek 
 upon the tops of cottage houses. 
 
 Andrews, in his continuation of Dr. 
 Henry's History of England, tells us, 
 from Arnot's Edinburgh, that "in 1594 
 the elders of the Scottish church exerted 
 their utmost influence to abolish an irra- 
 tional cnstom among the husbandmen, 
 which, with some reason, gave great 
 offence. The farmers were apt to leave 
 a portion of their land untilled and un- 
 cropt year after year. This spot was 
 supposed to be dedicated to Satan, and 
 was styled ' the good man's croft,' viz. 
 the landlord's acre. It seems probable 
 that some pagan ceremony had given rise 
 to so strange a superstition :" no doubt 
 as a charm or peace-offering, that the rest 
 might be fertile. Professor Playfair, in a 
 letter to Mr. Brand, dated St. Andrew's, 
 Jan. 26, 1804, mentioning the supersti- 
 tions of his neighbourhood, says : " In 
 
)A33 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 ISoi 
 
 private breweries, to prevent tht interfe- 
 rence of the iairies, a live coal is thrown 
 into the vat. A cow's milk no fa ry can 
 take away, if a burning coal is con iucted 
 across her back and under her bel'y im- 
 mediately after she has calved. The same 
 mischievous elves cannot enter into a 
 house at night, if, before bed-time, the 
 lower end of the crook, or iron chain, by 
 which a vessel is suspended over the fire, 
 be raised vp a few links." 
 
 Martin, in his Description of the 
 Western Islands, says : " It is a received 
 opinion in these islands, as well as in the 
 neighbouring part of the main land, that 
 women, by a charm, or some other secret 
 way, are able to convey the increase of 
 their neighbour's cow's milk to their own 
 use ; and that the milk so charmed doth 
 not produc» the ordinary quantity of 
 butter ; and the curds made of that milk 
 are so tough that it cannot be made so 
 firm as the other cheese, and also is much 
 lighter in weight. The butter so taken 
 away, and joined to the charmer's batter, 
 is evidently discernible by a mark of se- 
 paration; viz. the diversity of colors: that 
 which is charmed being paler than the 
 other. If butter having these marks be 
 found on a suspected woman, she is pre- 
 sently said to be guilty. To recover this 
 loss they take a little of the rennet from 
 all the suspected persons, and put it into 
 an egg-shell full of milk : and when that 
 from the charmer is mingled with it, it 
 presently curdles, and not before. — Some 
 women make use of the root of groundsel 
 as an amulet against . such charms, by 
 putting it among the cream." 
 
 Speaking of Fladda Chuan, Martin 
 says : " there is a chapel in the isle, de- 
 dicated to St. Columbus. It has an altar 
 in the east end, and, therein, a blue stone 
 of a round form on it, which is always 
 moist. It is an ordinary custom, when 
 any of the fishern.en are detained in this 
 isle by contrary winds, to wash the blue 
 stone with water, all round, expecting 
 thereby to procure a favorable wind. 
 And so great is the regard they have for 
 this stone, that they swear decisive oaths 
 upon it." 
 
 Martin says it was an ancient custom 
 among the islanders to hang a he-goat to 
 the boat's mast, hoping thereby to procure 
 a favorable wind. 
 
 In speaking of lona, Martin says, 
 " There is a stone erected here, concerning 
 which the credulous natives say, that who- 
 iver reaches out his arm along the stonp 
 
 three times in the name of the Father, 
 Son, and Holy Ghost, shall never err in 
 steering the helm of a vessel." 
 
 Mentioning the island Borera, Martin 
 says ; " There is a stone in form of a cross, 
 in the row, opposite to St. Mary's church, 
 about five foot high: the natives call it 
 the water-cross, for the ancient inhabitants 
 had a custom of erecting this sort of cross 
 to procure rain, and when they had got 
 enough they laid it flat on the ground ; 
 but this custom is now disused." 
 
 Martin, speaking of the island of 
 Arran, mentions a green stone, much like 
 a globe in figure, about the bigness of a 
 goose-egg, which, for its intrinsic value, 
 has been carefully transmitted to posterity 
 for several ages. " The virtue of it is to 
 remove stitches in the side, by laying it 
 close to the place affected. "They say if 
 the patient does not outlive the distemper, 
 the stone removes out of the bed of its 
 own accord, and i contra. The natives 
 use this stone for swearing decisive oaths 
 upon it. The credulous vulgar believe 
 that if this stone is cast among the front 
 of an enemy, .they will all run away. The 
 custody of it is the jpeculiar privilege of 
 a family called Clan-Chattons, alias 
 Mack-Intosh." 
 
 Burlesque Verses for Music. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 The following little poem is by Joshua 
 Weston, Esq., who was for many years 
 organist of Solihull, near Birmingham, 
 and died in 1806. He was an eccentric 
 character, but of high lit.erary, as well as 
 musical ability. I believe the poem has 
 never been published. 
 
 Trehta 
 Nottingham, April 1831. 
 
 THE CROW. 
 
 A Mock Cantata. 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 Mourn, mourn ye muses in the doleful'st 
 
 strains, 
 And with your tears spoil all the roads — and 
 soak the neighb'ring plains ' 
 
 Let piercing cries 
 
 Ascend the skies ! 
 
 Or, if this monstrous height 
 
 You deem too high a flight. 
 
 For human noise 
 
 To rise. 
 
 In strains a little lower. 
 
 Your lamentations pour 1 
 
1555 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 1556 
 
 Let them, at least, extend 
 To Knowle, or Orton end 
 Or i£ you think it meet, 
 
 To Shirley -street ; 
 Howe'er might I advise. 
 Tune all your throats 
 
 To lottder notes ; 
 
 Bach Toaiing voice 
 
 The other stun — 
 Louder ! louder ! louder ! 
 
 Just like the noise 
 
 Of a great gun. 
 When charg'd with shot and powder* 
 
 Air, 
 
 I shall esteem you 
 Wretched trumpery 
 And surely deem you 
 A paltry company 
 Of poor faint-hearted toads. 
 And that your grief you sham ^ 
 Unless you retch 
 To the full stretch. 
 Till every sound 
 Floats in the air 
 Both far and near. 
 Around, 
 Or, through the roads 
 Flies swift to Coleshill, or to Birmmgnam. 
 
 Recitative* 
 
 Your tears you will not grutch, 
 Nor think your trouble much. 
 Soon as you know 
 TTis for a Crow 
 That all this fuss is to be made ; 
 Alas we might as well be dumb. 
 For ah ! 'tis plain. 
 As a cow's thumb. 
 That all our grief 
 Will be in vain ! 
 No time can bring relief — 
 For oh ! 
 My poor dear Crow 
 Is dead for ever — ever — ever dead ! 
 What — dead for ever ? 
 Oh yes for ever ! 
 Will he no more return ? 
 Oh never — never ! 
 Perhaps he may 
 Oh no — no — no ! 
 O fatal blow 
 That snatch'd my Crow 
 Away ! 
 Ah me ! that 1 should live to see this day I 
 Mourn all ye crows — ye rooks, ye ravens 
 
 mourn ! 
 For, ah, he's gone — and never will return ! 
 
 ilir. 
 
 His wondrous worth no tongue can tell — 
 No words his beauty can express — 
 He looked so grave and walk'd so well, 
 Cloth *d in his sable satin dress. 
 
 Proudly along the streets he stalk'd. 
 Yet viewM he not the poor with scorn ; 
 But with familiar sweetness talkM, 
 Though they were not like him high-born.* 
 Fatal intemperance never stainM 
 His bosom, nor destroyed his health ; 
 Wretched ambition he disdain'd ; 
 Sweet innocence his only wealth. 
 On equal wing he, tow'ring, soarM 
 Above the glories of a crown ; * 
 Upon the miser's sordid hoard 
 He look'd with indignation down. 
 
 R&ciiative. 
 His mind took no unworthy bent. 
 No grovelling thoughts his birth disgrac*d ; 
 For all his friends, with one consent. 
 Pronounced the crow a crow of taste. 
 
 To Malvern oft he took his flight. 
 At once to charm his eye and ear ; 
 And oft, with manifest delight, 
 Stood fix'd in admiration there. 
 
 Once in his road he deign'd to call 
 At Weston's room, though short his stay. 
 The moment he began to bawl. 
 Surprised and shock'd, he flew away. 
 Yet never did my Crow neglect. 
 In virtues quarrel to engage : 
 Strong was his passion to correct 
 The manners of the rising age. 
 The dogs, the pigs, the ducks, the geese. 
 Paid due obedience to his laws : 
 For these, and many more than these. 
 Have felt and fear'd his beak and claws. 
 In their demeanour if he spied 
 Ought that his judgment disapprov'd. 
 He straight his utmost efforts tried. 
 Nor stop'd till he the fault removed. 
 Too much of goodness did he show. 
 Too much concern for others feel ; 
 Alas ! he fell — (unhappy Crow !) 
 A victim to his noble zeal ! 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 A pretty duckling once he chanc'd to meet. 
 Waddling most horridly along the stieet. 
 The hobbling pace disturbed his gen'rous 
 
 breast — 
 (With sorroTf, and with shame, I tell the rest) 
 His efforts to reform the duckling's gait, — 
 To make him turn his toes out, and walk 
 
 straight 
 (Too rashly zealous in the fatal strife) 
 Deprived the wretched creature of its Life. 
 For this the poor dear Crow was doomed to 
 
 death. 
 A wicked gun bereav'd him of his breath ; 
 My stomach rises at the fact — 'ad rot him ! 
 I wish the gun was in his guts that shot him ! 
 
 * The sign of the Crown. 
 
1557 
 
 TilE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 1558 
 
 Air, 
 
 Gen'rous creature, thou'rt at rest. 
 
 Free from sorrow — free from pain ! 
 Wretched I, Jiill sore distrest. 
 
 Ne'er shall see thy like again ! 
 Noble fellow, fare thee well ! 
 
 Fare thee well, my much lov'd Crow ! 
 Late posterity shall tell 
 
 All thi/ worth — and praise my woe ! 
 
 Magicians. — Wise Men, &c. 
 
 According to Minsheii the difference 
 between a conjurer, a witch, and an en- 
 chanter is as follows: "The conjurer 
 seemeth by piaiers and invocations of 
 God's powerful names, to compel the 
 divell to say or doe what he commandeth 
 him. The witch dealeth rather by a 
 friendly and voluntarie conference or 
 agreement between him and her and the 
 divell or familiar, to have his or her turn 
 served, in lieu or stead of blood or other 
 gift offered unto him, especially of his or 
 her soule. And both these differ from en- 
 chanters or sorcerers, because the former 
 two have personal conference with the 
 divell, and the other meddles but with 
 medicines and ceremonial formes of words 
 called charmes, without apparition." 
 
 "A sorcerer magician," says Grose, 
 "differs from a witch in this: a witch 
 derives all hei power from a compact 
 with the devil: a sorcerer commands him, 
 and the infernal spirits, by his skill in 
 powerful charms and .invocations : and 
 also soothes and entices them by fumi- 
 gations. For the devils are observed to 
 have delicate nostrils, abominating and 
 flying some kinds of stinks : witness the 
 flight of the evil spirit into the remote 
 parts of Egypt, driven by the smell of a 
 fish's liver burned by Tobit. They are 
 also found to be peculiarly fond of certain 
 perfumes : insomuch that Lilly informs 
 rs that one Evans, having raised a spirit 
 at the request of lord Bothwell and sir 
 Eenelm fiigby, and forgotten a suffu- 
 roigation, the spirit, vexed at the disap.. 
 pointment, snatched him out from his 
 circle and carried him from his house in the 
 Minories into a field near Battersea cause- 
 way. — King James in his Daemonologia, 
 says, the 'Art of soreei-y consists in di- 
 verse forms of circles and conjurations 
 rightly joined together, few or more in 
 number according to the number of 
 persons conjurers, (always passing the 
 
 singular number) according to the qualitie 
 of (he circle, and form of the apparition." 
 
 Reginald Scot tells us that, with re- 
 gard to conjurers, " The circles by which 
 they defend themselves are commonly nine 
 foot in breadth, but the eastern magicians 
 must give seven." 
 
 Melton, in his Astrologaster, speaking 
 of conjurers, says, "They always observe 
 the time of the moone, before they set 
 their figure, and when they have set their 
 figure and spread their circle, first exor- 
 cise the wine and water, which they 
 sprinkle on their circle, then mumble in 
 an unknown language. Doe they not 
 crosse and exercise their surplice, their 
 silver wand, gowne, cap and every in- 
 strument they use about their black and 
 damnable art? Nay they crosse the place 
 whereon they stand, because they thinke 
 the devill hath no power to come to it, 
 when they have blest it." 
 
 Osbourne, in his Advice to his Son, 8vo. 
 speaking of the soldiery, says, "They 
 like the spirit of conjurers, do oftentimes 
 teare their masters and raisers in pieces, 
 for want of other employment." 
 
 The old vulgar ceremonies used in 
 raising the devil, such as making a circle 
 with chalk, setting an old hat in the 
 centre of it repeating the lord's prayer 
 backward, &e., &c., are now altogether 
 obsolete, and seem to be forgotten even 
 amongst our boys. 
 
 Mason in his " Anatomic of Sorcerie," 
 4to. 1612, ridicules " Inchanters and 
 charmers — they, which byusingofcertaine 
 conceited words, characters, circles, amu- 
 lets, and such like vain and wicked trum- 
 pery (by God's permission) doe worke 
 great marvailles: as namely, in causing 
 of sicknesse, and also in curing diseases 
 in men's bodies. And likewise binding 
 some, that they cannot use their naturall 
 powers and faculties; as we see in night- 
 spells. Insomuch as some of them doe 
 take in hand to bind the divell himselfe 
 by their inchantments." 
 
 In Herrick's Hesperides, is the fol- 
 lowing spell. 
 
 Holy water come and bring;-. 
 Cast in salt for seasoning ; 
 Set the brush for sprinkling. 
 
 Sacred spittle bring ye hither ; 
 Meale and it now mix together ; 
 And a little oyle to either : 
 
 Give the tapers here their light. 
 Ring the saints-bells to affright 
 Far from hence the evil sprite. 
 
1559 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 1560 
 
 There is a pleasant comment on the 
 popular creed concerning spirits and 
 haunted houses in a scene of the Drummer, 
 or the Haunted House, a comedy by 
 Addison : the Gardener, Butler, and 
 Coachman of the family are the dramatis 
 personsc. 
 
 Gardn. Prithee, John, what sort of a 
 creature is a conjurer ? 
 
 Buth Why he's made much as other men 
 are, if it was not for his long grey beard. — His 
 beard is at least half a yard long : he's dressed 
 in a strange dark cloke, as black as a cole. 
 He has a long white wand in his hand. 
 
 Coachm. I fancy 'tis made out of witch 
 elm. 
 
 Gardn. I warrant you if the ghost appears, 
 he'll whisk ye that wand before his eyes, 
 and strike you the drum-stick out of his hand. 
 
 Butl, No ; the wand, look ye, is to make 
 a circle ; and, if he once gets the ghost in a 
 circle, then he has him. A circle, you must 
 know, is a conjuror's trap. 
 
 Coachm. But what will he do with him 
 when he has him there ? 
 
 Butl. Why then he'll overpower him with 
 his learning. 
 
 Gard. If he can once compass him, and get 
 him in Lob's pound, he'll make nothing of 
 him, but speak a few hard words to him, and 
 perhaps bind him over to his good behaviour 
 for a thousand years. 
 
 Coachm. Ay, ay, he'll send him packing 
 to his grave again with a flea in his ear, 1 
 warrant, 
 
 Butl. But if them conjurers be but well paid 
 they'll take pains upon the ghost and lay him, 
 look ye, in the Red Sea — and then he's laid 
 for ever. 
 
 Gardn, Why, John, there must be a power 
 of spirits in that same Red Sea. I warrant 
 ye they are as plenty as fish. I wish the 
 spirit may not carry off a comer of the house 
 with him. 
 
 Butl, As for that, Peter, you may be sure 
 that the Steward has made his bargain with 
 the cunning man before-hand, that he shall 
 stand to all costs and damages, 
 
 Grose says, " Another mode of con- 
 sulting spirits was by the berryl, by 
 means of a speculator or seer, who, to 
 have a complete sight, ought to be a pure 
 virgin, a youth who had not known a 
 woman, or at least a person of irre- 
 proachable life, and purity of manners. 
 The method of such consultation is this : 
 the conjurer, having repealed the neces- 
 sary charms and adjurations, with the litany 
 or invocation peculiarto the spirits or angels 
 he wishes to call, (for every one has his 
 particular form,) the seer looks into a 
 chrystal or berryl, wherein he will see tlie 
 
 answer, represented either by types oi 
 figures : and sometimes, though very 
 rarely, will hear the angels or spirits speak 
 articulately. Their pronunciation is, as 
 Lilly says, like the Irish, much in the 
 throat. 
 
 Vallency, says, " In the highlands of 
 Scotland a large chrystal, of a figure 
 somewhat oval, was kept by the priests to 
 work charms by ; water poured upon it 
 at \his day, is given to cattle against dis- 
 eases : these stones are now preserved by 
 the oldest and most superstitious in the 
 country (Shawe). They were once com- 
 mon in Ireland. I am informed the earl 
 of Tyrone is in possession of a very fine 
 one." 
 
 Lilly describes a conjuring beryl or 
 chrystal. It was, he says, as large as an 
 orange, set in silver, with a cross at the 
 top, and round about engraved the names 
 of the angels, Raphael, Gabriel, and 
 Uriel. A delineation of another is en- 
 graved in the frontispiece to Aubrey's 
 Miscellanies. This mode of enquiry is 
 imputed to Dr. Dee, the celebrated ma- 
 thematician. His speculator was named 
 Kelly. The stone they used came into 
 possession of Horace Walpole and is 
 now perhaps in the Strawberry-hill col- 
 lection. It appears to have been a 
 polished piece of canal coal. To this 
 Butler refers when he writes — 
 
 Kelly did all his feasts upon 
 The devil's looking-glass, a stone. 
 
 " These sorcerers, or magicians," says 
 Grose, do not always imploy their art to 
 do mischief ; but,, on the contrary, fre- 
 quently exert it to cure diseases inflicted 
 by witches, to discover thieves, recover 
 stolen goods, to foretel future events and 
 the state of absent friends. On this 
 account they are frequently called white 
 witches. 
 
 Butler, in his Hudibras, pleasantly de- 
 scribes the supposed power of a cunning 
 man or fortune-teller. 
 
 Not far from hence doth dwell 
 A cunning man hight Sidrophel, 
 That deals in destiny's dark counsels. 
 And sage opinion of the moon sells ; 
 To whom all people, far and near. 
 On deep importances repair ■, 
 When brass and pewter hap to stray, 
 And linen slinks out of the way . 
 When geese and pullen are seduced. 
 And sows of sucking pigs are chows'd ; 
 When cattle feel indisposition. 
 And need th' opinion of phisician ; 
 When Murrain reigns in hogs or shccp^ 
 
1561 
 
 TtiE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 2B. 
 
 1562 
 
 And chickens languish of the pip ; 
 When yeast and outward means do fail. 
 And have no power to work on ale j 
 When butter does refuse to come. 
 And love proves cross and humoursome ; 
 To him with questions and with urine 
 , They for discovery flock, or curing. 
 
 Allusions to this character are not un- 
 common in our old plays. In Albumazor, 
 a comedy, we have one, who 
 — tels of lost plate, horses and strayed catell 
 Directly, as he had stolne them all himselfe. 
 Again in Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks, 
 4to. 1636, there is a 
 
 • Fortune teller a petty rogue 
 
 That never saw Ave shillings in a heape. 
 Will take upon him to divine men's fate. 
 Yet never knows himselfe shall dy a beggar. 
 Or be hanged up for pilfering cloaths — 
 hanged out to dry on hedges. 
 
 In " The Character of a Quack Astro- 
 loger," 4to. 1673, a wise man, " a gipsey 
 of the upper form," is said to "begin with 
 thjft ; and, to help people to what they 
 have lost, picks their pocket afresh ; not 
 a ring or spoon is nim'd away, but payes 
 him twelve-pence toll, and the ale-draper's 
 often-straying Tankard yields him a con- 
 stant revenue : for that purpose he main- 
 tains as strict a correspondence with gilts 
 and lifters, as a mountebank with ap- 
 plauding midwives and recommending 
 nurses : and if, at any time, to keep up 
 his credit with the rabble, he discovers 
 any thing, 'tis done by the same occult 
 hermetic learning, heretofore profest by 
 the renowned mall-cut-purse. Mr, Brand 
 says, these are still called " wise men" 
 in the villages of Durham and Nor- 
 thumberland. Vallency tell? us that in 
 Ireland they are called Tamans. "1 
 know," says he, " a farmer's wife in the 
 county of Waterford, that lost a parcel of 
 linen. She travelled three days journey to 
 a taman, in the county of Tipperary : he 
 consulted his black book, and assured her 
 she would recover the goods. The rob- 
 bery was proclaimed at the chapel, off- 
 ering a reward, and the linen was re- 
 covered. It was not the money but the 
 taman that recovered it. 
 
 Respecting these characters the pre- 
 ceding particulars, with more to the same 
 purpose, may be found in Brand's Po- 
 pular Antiquities. 
 
 SoBCEEY — Witchcraft. 
 " he end and effect of witchcraft seems 
 to be sometimes good and sometimes 
 evil. In the first case the sick are healed, 
 
 thieves are bewrayed, and true men come 
 to their goods. In the second, men, 
 women, children, or animals, as also 
 grass, trees, corn, and other articles are 
 injured. 
 
 In the curious tract entitled " Round 
 about our Coal-fire" is the following 
 passage : — A witch, according to my 
 nurse's account, must be a bagged old 
 woman, living in a little rotten cottage 
 under a hill, by a wood side, and must be 
 frequently spinning at the door : she must 
 have a. black cat, two or three broom- 
 sticks, an imp or two, and two or three 
 diabolical teats to suckle her imps. She 
 must be of so dry a nature, that if you 
 fling her into a river she will not sink : so 
 hard then is her fate, that, if she is to 
 undergo the trial, if she does not drown, 
 she must be burnt, as many have been 
 within the memory of man." 
 
 Cotgrave cites the subsequent lines 
 from one of our English poets. 
 Thus witches 
 
 Pcssess'd, ev'n in their death deluded, say 
 They have been wolves and dogs, and eail'd 
 
 in egge-shels 
 Over the sea, and rid on fiery dragons, 
 Pass'd in the air more than a thousand miles 
 All in a night. 
 
 The Connoisseur, No. 109, says, it is a 
 common notion that a witch can make a 
 voyage to the East Indies in an egg-shell, 
 or take a journey of 200 or 300 miles 
 across the country on a broomstick. 
 
 According to Grose^ witches are made 
 in this manner. A man in black tetnpts 
 a superannuated old woman to sign a 
 contract to become his, both soul and 
 body. On the conclusion of the agree- 
 ment, he gives her a piece of money, and 
 causes her to write her name and make 
 her mark on a slip of parchment with her 
 own blood. Sometimes also on this oc- 
 casion the -witch uses the ceremony of 
 putting one hand to the sole of her foot, 
 and the other to the crown of her head. 
 On departing, he delivers to her an imp, 
 or familiar. The familiar, in the shape of 
 a cat or kitten, a mole, miller-fly, or some 
 other insect or animal, which at stated 
 times of the day sucks her blood, through 
 teats on different parts of her body. In 
 making these bargains, there is said to be 
 sometimes a great deal of haggling. The 
 sum given to bind the bargain is some- 
 times a groat, at other times half a crown. 
 In the relation of the Swedish witches, at 
 the end of Glanvil's " Sadducismus Tri- 
 umphatus," we are told that the devil gives 
 
1563 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 1564 
 
 ^hera a beast about the bigness and shape 
 of a young cat, which they call a carrier. 
 What this carrier brings they must re- 
 ceive for the devil. These carriei's fill 
 themselves so full sometimes, that they are 
 forced to disgorge by the way, and these 
 leavings are sometimes found in gardens 
 where coleworts grow, and not far from 
 the houses of the witches. It is of a 
 yellow color like gold, and is called 
 "butter of witches." Mr Brand says 
 that, probably, this is the same substance 
 which is called in Northumberland " fairy 
 butter." In a manuscript " Discourse of 
 Witchcraft," written by Mr. John Bell, 
 miiiister of the gospel at Gladsmuir, on 
 the subject of witches' marks, he says; 
 — " This mark is sometimes like a little 
 teate; sometimes like a blewish spot,' 
 and I myself have seen it in the body oJ 
 a confessing witch like a little powder 
 mark of a blea color, somewhat hard, and 
 withal insensible, so as it did not bleed 
 when I pricked it." From " News from 
 Scotland," &c, 1591, it appears that 
 having tortured in vain a suspected witch 
 with " the pilliwinckles upon her fingers, 
 which is a grievous torture, and binding 
 or wrenching her head with a cord or 
 rope, which is a most cruel torture also, 
 they, upon search, found the enemy's 
 mark to be in her forecrag, or forepart of 
 her throat." 
 
 The " Witches' Sabbath " is a meeting 
 to which the sisterhood, after having been 
 anointed with certain magical ointments 
 provided by their infernal leader, are 
 supposed to be carried through the 
 air on brooms, staves, spits, &c,, to the 
 place of assembly, where they have 
 feastings, music, and dancing, the devil 
 himself condescending to play at them on 
 the pipes or cittern. It was at ameeting 
 pf this sort that Tam o' Shanter saw 
 
 things horrible and awfu', 
 
 "Which e'en to name would be unlawfu'. 
 When Burns wrote thus he evidently had 
 in view the diabolical proceedings ascribed 
 to these supposed meetings ; where, it was 
 said, the devil sometimes preached to them 
 a mock sermon ; that they afterwards 
 opened graves for the purpose of taking 
 out joints of the fingers and toes of dead 
 bodies, with some of the winding sheet, in 
 order to prepare a powder for their 
 magical purposes ; that the devil distri- 
 buted apples, dishes, spoons, or other 
 trifles, to those witches who desire to tor- 
 ment particular persons to whom they 
 gave them ; and that he baptized waxen 
 
 images of such persons for the purpose of 
 occasioning ailments in them, or death. 
 
 Butler, in his Hudibras, has the fol- 
 lowing on the airy riding. 
 
 Or trip it o'er the water quicker 
 
 Than -witches when their staves they liquor. 
 
 As some report. 
 
 Reginald Scot says that according to 
 the vulgar opinion of witches flying, 
 "The devil teaches them to make oint- 
 ment of the bowels and members of 
 children, whereby they ride in the air and 
 accomplish all their desires. After burial 
 they steal them out of their graves and 
 seeth them in a cauldron, till the flesh be 
 made potable, of which they make an 
 ointment, by which they ride in the air." 
 Wierus exposes the folly of this opinion 
 proving it to be an illusion, acted only in 
 a dream. It is so deemed by Oldham. 
 As men in sleep, though motionless they lie, 
 Fledg'd by a dream, believe they mount and 
 
 flye: 
 So witches some inchanted wand bestride 
 And think they through the airy regions ride. 
 
 There are other authorities upon this 
 point in the notes upon Hudibras, and in 
 Grey's notes on Shakspeare. 
 
 Lord Verulam tells us that " the oint- 
 ment that witches use is reported to be 
 made of the fat of children digged out of 
 their graves ; of the juices of smallage, 
 wolf-bane, and cinque-foil, mingled with 
 the meal of fine wheat : but I suppose the 
 soporiferous medicines are likeliest to do 
 it, which are henbane, hemlock, mandrake, 
 moonshade, or rather nightshade, tobacco, 
 opium, saff'ron, poplar-leaves, &c." There 
 had been about the time of lord Verulans 
 no small stir -concerning witchcraft. Ben 
 Jonson, says Dr. Percy, has left us a 
 witch song, which contains an extract 
 from the various incantations of classic 
 antiquity. Some learned wise-acres had 
 just before busied themselves on this sub- 
 ject, with our British Solomon, James I., 
 at their head; and these had so ransacked 
 all writers ancient and modern, and so 
 blended and kneaded togetljer the several 
 superstitions of different times and na- 
 tions, that those of genuine English 
 growth could no longer be traced out and' 
 distinguished. The witch song in Mac- 
 beth is superior to this of Ben Jonson. 
 The metrical incantations in Middleton's 
 " Witch " are also very curious. This is 
 a specimen : — 
 
 I Witch. Here's the blood of a bat. 
 Hec, Put in that, oh put in that. 
 
:5ti5 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER, 28> 
 
 15d0 
 
 2 W. Here's libbard's bane. 
 JJec. Put in agaijQe. 
 
 1 ]V. Tbe jaice of toa<^e, the oile of adder. 
 
 2 W, Those will make the yonker madder. 
 Mec. Put in : there's all, and rid the stench. 
 Firestone. Nay here's three ounces of the red- 
 
 hair'd wench. 
 Allt Round, around, around, &c. 
 
 The sabbath of the witches is supposed 
 to be held on a Saturday : when the 
 devi! is by some said to appear in the 
 shape of a' goat, about whom several 
 (lances and ma^ic ceremonies are per- 
 formed, and befoie the assembly breaks 
 up the witches are all said to have the 
 honor of saluting Satan in a particular 
 manner. King James's remarks on this 
 subject in his " Daemonology " are very 
 curious. Satan is reported to have been 
 so much out of humor at some of these 
 meetings, that, for his diversion, he beat 
 the witches black and blue with the spits 
 and brooms, the vehicles of their trans- 
 portation, and played them divers other 
 unlucky tricks. 
 
 King James, in his Dsemonology, tells 
 
 us, that " the devil teacheth how to make 
 
 pictures of wax or clay, that, by roasting 
 
 thereof, the persons that they bear the 
 
 name of may be continually melted, or 
 
 dried away by continual sickness." In 
 
 Grafton's Chronicle, we find it laid to 
 
 the charge (among others) of Roger 
 
 BoUnbrook, a cunning necromancer, and 
 
 Margery Jordane, the cunning witch of 
 
 Eye, that they at the request of Eleanor, 
 
 Duchess of Gloucester, had devised an 
 
 image of wax representing the King, 
 
 (Henry VI.) which by their sorcery a 
 
 fittle and little consumed : intending 
 
 thereby in conclusion to waste and 
 
 destroy the king's person. According to 
 
 Strype, Bishop Jewel, preaching before 
 
 tbe Queen, in 1558, said : " It may please 
 
 your grace to understand that witches 
 
 and sorcerers within these few last years 
 
 are marvelously increased within your 
 
 grace's realm. Your grace's subjects pine 
 
 away, even unto the death, their colour; 
 
 fedeth, their flesh rotteth, their speech is 
 
 benumbed, their senses are bereft. I 
 
 pray God they nertr practice /«r?Aer than 
 
 vpoii the iubject." " This," says Strype, 
 
 " I make no doubt was the occasion of 
 
 bringing in a bill, the next parliament, 
 
 for making enchantments and witchcraft 
 
 felony." One of the bishop's strong 
 
 ejtpressions is, " These eyes have seen 
 
 most evident and manifest marks of their 
 
 wickedness." There is a statement by 
 
 Strype, in 1581, that "one Mrs. Dier had 
 practised conjuration against the Queen, 
 (Elizabeth) to work some mischief to her 
 majesty : for which she was brought into 
 question : and accordingly her words and 
 doings were sent to Popham, the Queen's 
 attorney, and Egerton, her solicitor, by 
 Walsi ngham the secretary, and Sir Thomas 
 Heneage her vice chamberlain, for their 
 judgment, wliose opinion was that Mrs. 
 Dier was not within the compass of the 
 statute touching witchcraft, for that she 
 did no act, and spake certain lewd speeches 
 tending to that purpose, but neither set 
 figure nor made pictures." Strype says, 
 in 1578; "Whether it were the effect o| 
 magic, or proceeded from some natural 
 cause, but the queen was in some part of 
 this year under excessive anguish by 
 pains of her teeth : insomuch that she 
 too^ no rest for divers nights, and endured 
 very great torment night and day." An- 
 drews, in his continuation of Henry's 
 history of Great Britain, speaking: 
 of Ferdinand, Earl of Derby, who, in the 
 reign of Queen Elizabeth, died by poison, 
 tells us, " the credulity of the age attributed 
 his death to witchcraift. The disease was 
 odd, and operated as a perpetual emetic, 
 and a waxen image, with hair like that of 
 the unfortunate earl, found in his cham- 
 ber, reduced every suspicion to certainty." 
 This superstition may be illustrated by 
 an anecdote in Seward, from French his- 
 tory. "The wife of Marshal D'Ancre 
 was apprehended, imprisoned, and be- 
 headed for a witch, upon a surmise that 
 she had enchanted the queen to doat 
 upon her husband : and they say, the 
 young king's picture was found in her 
 closet, in virgin wax, with one leg melted 
 away. When asked by her judges what 
 spells she had made use of to gain so 
 powerfiil an ascendancy over the queen, 
 she replied, ' that ascendancy only which 
 strong minds ever gain oyer weak ones'." 
 Old Blagrave, in his Astrological Practice 
 of Physick, observes, " the way "which the 
 witche.s usually take to a£9ict man or 
 beast in this kind, is, as I conceive, done' 
 by image or model, made in the likeness • 
 Of. that man or beast they intend to work 
 mischief upon, and, by the subtlety of 
 the devil, made at such hours and times ' 
 when it shall work most powerfully upon 
 them, by thorn, pin, or needle, pricked ' 
 into that limb or member of the body 
 afllicted. This practice is referred to by 
 poets, Daniel says, in one of his sonnets ; 
 
1567 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 1568 
 
 The sUe inchanter, when to work his will 
 And secret wrong on some forspoken wight 
 Frames waxe, in forme to represent aright 
 The poor unwitting wretch he meanes to kill. 
 And prickes the image, fram'd by magick'sskill. 
 Whereby to vex the partie day and night. 
 Cole, in his Art of Simpling, says that 
 witches " take likewise the roots of raan- 
 irake, according to some, or, as I rather 
 suppose, the roots of briony, which simple 
 folke take for the true mandrake, and 
 make thereof an ugly image, by which 
 they represent the person on whom they 
 intend to exercise their wilchcraft." 
 
 Witches are said to sometimes content 
 themselves with a reveiige less than mortal, 
 causing the objects of their hatred to 
 swallow pins, crooked nails, dirt, cinders, 
 and differetit trash ; or by drying up 
 their cows, and killing their oxen; or by 
 ■preventing butter from coming in the 
 churn ; or beer from working. 
 
 Sometimes, to vex squires, justices* 
 and country-parsons, fond of hunting, 
 witches are presiimed to have changed 
 themselves into hares, and elude the 
 speed of the fleetest dogs. Hence, in 
 Scot's Discovery, he says of these country 
 gentry, " that never hunters nor their dogs 
 may be bewitched, they cleave an oaken 
 branch, and both they and their dogs 
 pass over it." Warner, in his Topogra- 
 phical Remarks relating to the South- 
 western parts of Hampshire, 8vo., 1793, 
 mentioning Mary Dore, the "parochial 
 witch of Beaulieu," who died about half 
 a century since, says, "her spells were 
 chiefly used for purposes of self-extrica- 
 tion in situations of danger ; and I have 
 conversed with a rustic whose father had 
 seen the old lady convert herself more 
 than once into the form of a hare, or cat, 
 when likely to be apprehended in wood- 
 stealing, to which she was somewhat ad- 
 dicted. 
 
 said to him in private, " My friend, you 
 must tell me sincerely whether you have 
 made a compact with the Devil or not : 
 if you confess it, I will give you your 
 liberty immediately ; but if you refuse to 
 tell me, I will give you directly into the 
 hands of the magistrate/' The man 
 answered, " Sir, I will own to you that I 
 go to a meeting of wizards every day. 
 One of my friends has given me a drug 
 which I take to effect this, and I have 
 been received as a sorcerer these three 
 years." He then described the proceed- 
 ings at these meetings, and spoke of the 
 different devils as if he had been all his 
 life acquainted with them." Show me," 
 said Gassendi, "the drug that you take to 
 enable you to attend this infernal assembly, 
 for I intend to go there with you to- 
 night." The man replied, "As you 
 please, sir ; I will take you at midnight 
 as soon as the clock strikes twelve." 
 Accordingly he met Gassendi at the ap- 
 pointed hour, and showing him two 
 bolusses, each of them the. size of a walnut, 
 he desired him to swallow one, as soon as 
 he had seen him swallow the other. The 
 man swallowed one, and Gassendi pre- 
 tended as if he had swallowed the othery 
 and then they laid down together upon a 
 goat-skin. The man soon fell asleep, but 
 Gassendi remained awake and watched 
 him, and perceived that he was greatly 
 disturbed in his slumbers, and writhed' 
 an(^ twisted his body about, as if he had 
 been troubled by bad dreams. At the 
 expiration of five or six hours he awoke, 
 and said to Gassendi, I am sure, sir, you 
 ought to be satisfied with the manner in 
 which the Great Goat received you ; he 
 conferred upon you a high honor when 
 he permitted you to kiss his tail the first 
 time he ever saw you." The deleterious 
 opiate had operated upon his imagination. 
 He was one in whom, while waking. 
 
 Disenchantment op a Sorceker. 
 
 As Gassendi was one day -taking a 
 morning's walk near Digne, in Provence, 
 his ears were assailed by repeated excla- 
 mations of " A sorcerer, a sorcerer !" 
 On looking behind him he beheld a mean 
 and simple-looking man, with his hands 
 tied, whom a mob of the country people 
 were hurrying to prison. Gassendi's vir- 
 tues and learning had given him great 
 authority with them, and he desired to be 
 left alone with the man. They imme- 
 diately surrendered him, and Gassendi, 
 
 - the eye works 
 
 Unto the timid thought, and the thought 
 
 paints 
 Forms from the mire of Conscience, will 
 
 o'wisps 
 To dazzle sober reason. 
 
 Gassendi, compassionating his weakness 
 and credulity, took pains to convince him 
 of his self-delusion ; and, showing him 
 the bolus, he gave it to a dog, who soon 
 fell asleep and suffered great convulsions. 
 The poor fellow was set at liberty to un- 
 deceive his brethren, who had, like him, 
 been lulled by the noxious bolus into 
 imagining themselves sorcerers. 
 
i5e9 
 
 THE VEAIl BOOK.— DECEMBER 3B. 
 
 1370 
 
 A PAIllSa TOBACCO-BOX. 
 
 *' nistory is philosophy teaching by ex- 
 ample. " — Mr. Churchwarden, and Mr. 
 Overseer, Gen tlemen, Pasl Churchward- 
 ens, and Past Overseers' of the joint 
 parishes of St. Mai^ret and St. Jolin the 
 Evangelist, Westminster, thanks to you" 
 for the " History" of your Parish Tobacco- 
 Box. 
 
 About a hundred-and-twenty years ago, 
 little more or less, Mr. Henry Monck, one 
 of the parishioners of one of the above- 
 mentioned parishes, bought a common 
 horn Tobaeco-Box, of an oval shape^ and 
 ])crtable size for the pocket; according to 
 tradition, be gave four-pence for it at 
 Horn Fair. lie carried it with hira to 
 his parish club — to the tavern where the 
 
 No. 50. 
 
 " gentlemen of the parish,'' who, like him- 
 self, had served the office cf overseer, 
 met to talk over and confer upon pa- 
 rochial matters, and smoke their pipes in 
 friendly intercourse. They associated 
 under the denomination of the " Past 
 Overseers' Society," and Mr. Monck pre- 
 sented his fourpenny Horn Fair Tobacco- 
 Box to the society, for the general use of 
 the members. 
 
 It is importaht to the history of this 
 Tobacco-Box, now about to be publicly 
 disclosed, that the world should know the 
 constitution of the Past Overseers' So- 
 ciety. It consists of parishioners of S.:. 
 Margaret and St. John's parishes, who^ 
 as before intimated^ have either been 
 3 fi 
 
1571 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 1572 
 
 overseers of ihe poor in the joint parishes 
 abovementioned, or who have paid the 
 fine to be excused from serving the ofiSce, 
 and also of the overseers for the time 
 being. The average number of members 
 is now about forty. On the evening of 
 the second Thursday in every month the 
 society meet at the Swan tavern, Bridge- 
 street, Westminster, where the Lord 
 Mayor of London aunually holds a court 
 of conservancy, with good cheer, and wine 
 and wassail, and where also the past over- 
 seers' society annually dine together upon 
 the day of appointment of new overseers. 
 The general expenses of the society are de- 
 frayed by annual subscriptions, a certain 
 portion of which fund is applied towards 
 discharging the reckoning of each meet- 
 ing, and the deficiency is made up by the 
 attending members. There are instances 
 of honorary members having been ad- 
 mitted for services done to the society, 
 but such occurrences are very rare. The 
 clerk to the governors of the poor, on ac- 
 count of his intimacy with parish affairs, 
 is an official member of the society, and 
 acts as its secretary. 
 
 In 1720 the society of past overseers, 
 out of respect to the donor of the Tobacco- 
 Box, ornamented the lid with a «ilver rim, 
 bearing the following inscription : — 
 "Given by Henry Monck, one of the 
 overseers of St. Margaret's, Westminster, 
 1713." They then committed it to the 
 custody of the senior overseer for the time 
 being, through each of which annual offi- 
 cers it has descended to the present day, 
 and from most of them it has received 
 successive silver ornaments and additions, 
 each of which bears the names of the 
 contributors to the importance and value 
 of the box. 
 
 In 1824 the society published, by sub- 
 scription, a volume in quarto, with the 
 following title : — 
 
 " Repkesentations of the embossed, 
 chased, and engraved Subjects and In- 
 scriptions which decorate the Tobacco- 
 Box and Cases belonging to the Past 
 Overseers' Society of the Parishes 
 of St. Margaret and St. John the Evan- 
 gelist, in the city of Westminster." 
 The work thus entitled consists of three 
 leaves of letter-press " Introduction ;" 
 three other leaves of " Explanatory Re- 
 ferences to the Plates and Subjects;" 
 thirty-four full sized copper-plate en- 
 gravings ; two descriptive vignettes ; and 
 an engraved title-page, bearing a vignette 
 of the successive forms and sizes of the 
 
 Tobacco-Box and its cases, from which 
 the engraving at the beginning of this ar- 
 ticle is taken. A letter-press leaf at the 
 end, contains a " List • of the Sub- 
 scribers" to the work; among whom are 
 the Rev. Jon. Tyers Barrett, D.D., the 
 Rev. Charles Fynes Clinton, D.D , the 
 Rev. Wm. Winfield Dakins, D.D., the 
 Rev Hen. Chute, the Rev. Darcy Hag- 
 gitt, the Rev. W. Rodber, the Rev. R. S. B. 
 Sandilands, the very Rev. D. D. Stevens, 
 Dean of Rochester, John Abington, Esq., 
 Dean's Yard, John Elliot, Esq., Pimlico, 
 Samuel Hanbury, Esq., King-street, 
 Thos. Maude, Esq., Great George-street, 
 Simon Stephenson, Esq., Great George- 
 street, Alex. Richard Sutherland, M.D., 
 and one-hundred-and-twenty other re- 
 spectable names. 
 
 After the silver rim bestowed by the 
 society upon the lid of the Tobacco-Box 
 in 1720, the next addition to it was a 
 silver side-casing and bottom, in 1726. 
 In 1740, a broad handsome embossed 
 border of ornaments was placed upon the 
 lid, within the before-mentioned rim; and 
 subsequently, the bottom was covered 
 with an " ornamented emblem of Charity," 
 engraved very much in the style of Ho- 
 garth, and probably by that artist's own 
 hand; for, in 1746, Hogarth, who was 
 then in the zenith of his reputation, de- 
 signed and executed, on the inside of the 
 lid, a portrait of the Duke of Cumber- 
 land, in manner of a bust, with allego- 
 rical figures at the sides of the pedestal, 
 and an inscription commemorative of the 
 victory of CuUoden. The last addition 
 to the lid was an interwoven scroll, dated 
 1765 ; the scroll encloses a plate in the 
 centre, bearing the arms of the city of 
 Westminster, and inscribed, " This Box to 
 be delivered to every succeeding Sett of 
 Overseers, on penalty of Five Guineas." 
 
 The Horn Fair "TobaccoriBox having 
 thus |been ornamented within and with- 
 out to repletion, there was no room for 
 further additions ; but as each senior 
 ■ overseer, with few exceptionSj followed 
 the example of his predecessors, a new 
 outer case was always prepared for it, 
 v/hen further space was required^ far or- 
 nament, and the original fourpenny To- 
 bacco-Box is now kept in a series of four 
 embellished cases, case within case, until 
 the whole has become of greater bulk and 
 worth than any tobacco-box in the kingdom. 
 
 The engraving submitted to the inspec- 
 tion of the reader represent? Monck's 
 box, and its four enriched cases, grouped 
 
K^73 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 1574 
 
 with decanters, goblets, wine-glasses, le- 
 mons, and tobacco-pipes. The old box 
 is filled with tobacco ; its lid, engraved 
 wilhinside by Hegarth, reclines against 
 the second case ; and across the box is a 
 mother-of-pearl tobacco-stopper, present- 
 ed to the society by Mr. John Ansell. 
 The proportionate size of the cases de- 
 notes the order of their accession to the 
 box. 
 
 The cases of this Tobacco-Box are over- 
 laid with various plates of silver, pre- 
 sented, according to the society's rules, 
 by successive overseers. These plates are 
 embossed or engraved with different em- 
 blematical devices and representations, 
 chiefly of memorable historical occur- 
 rences, and with portraits of several 
 eminent persons; and each plate has a 
 suitable inscription. Among these me- 
 morials are : — a view of the fireworks in 
 St.- James Park, in celebration of the 
 peace of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1749 ; a por- 
 trait of the well -remembered John Wilkes, 
 who was churchwarden of St. Margaret's 
 parish in 1759; a representation of Ad- 
 miral Keppel's engagement off Ushant, 
 and another of his acquittal after trial by 
 a court-martial ; inscriptions relating to 
 the taking of St. Eustatia by Rodney; 
 the restoration of the health of George 
 III. in 1789, and the general illumination 
 upon that event ; a view of the Battle of 
 the Nile; records of the union with Ire- 
 land, and the peace of 1802; a represen- 
 tation of the repulse of the French China 
 fleet, under Admiral Linois, 1804; 
 another of the Battle of Trafalgar, and 
 death of Nelson, 1803 ; portraits of Nel- 
 son, Duncan, Howe, and Vincent; por- 
 traits of 'Pitt and Fox, upon their death 
 in 1806 ; a view of the engagement be- 
 tween the St. Fiorenzo and La Piedmon- 
 taise. 1808; a record of the jubilee in 
 1809 ; portrait of George IV., as Prince 
 Regent, 1811: emblems of the general 
 peace, 1814, and notices of the visit df 
 the {'Foreign Sovereigns; views of the 
 Battle of Waterloo, 1815, and the bom- 
 bardment of Algiers, 1816; portraits of 
 the Princess Charlotte, upon her death, 
 1317, and of Queen Charlotte, upon her 
 death, 1818; an interior view of the 
 House of Lords, upon the trial of Queen 
 Caroline, 1821; a representation of the 
 coronation of George IV., and another 
 commemorative of his visit to Scot- 
 land, 1822, &c. 
 
 There are several plates in cominemo- 
 ration of local circumstances, relating to 
 
 the past overseers' society's parishes. 
 One of them is a monumental design, 
 with military trophies, inscribed, " To 
 the memory of John Lee, a much re- 
 spected member of this society, who died 
 at Leeds, in Yorkshire, in the execution 
 of his office as overseer of the poor of the 
 parish of St. Margaret, 17 May, 1796, 
 aged 33 years : humane, diligent, and just 
 as an overseer; strictly attentive to his 
 duty as a light-horse volunteer ; a sincere 
 friend, a cheerful companion, and an ho- 
 nest man." Another plate represents a 
 very curious view of the interior of West- 
 minster-Hall, with the St. Margaret's and 
 St. John's corps of volunteers, assembled 
 there on the Fast-day, 1803, hearing Di- 
 vine service performed at the drum-head 
 by the Rev. Dr. W. W. Dakins. There 
 is a plate of the sessions-house, when the 
 portico fronted St. Margaret's church- 
 yard. There is likewise a plate repre- 
 senting St. John the Evangelist at Fatmos, 
 with a view, below, of the tower and 
 western entrance of the eharch of St. 
 Margaret. Another plate contains an en- 
 graving of the carved altar-piece of that 
 church, from Titian's painting of the 
 supper at Emmaus. 
 
 An oval plate, on the outside of the 
 first case, contains a very spirited little 
 engraving, in the style of Callot, of a 
 cripple ; and another plate represents the 
 patroness of the parish, St. Margaret, 
 triumphing over the dragon. This latter 
 legend is likewise engraved upon an ele- 
 gant silver gilt cup, which, with its cover 
 and stand, weighing together 93 oz. 15 
 dwts. was given, in 1763, by Samuel Pier- 
 son, Esq., to the overseers of the parish of 
 St. Margaret, and their successors for ever, 
 in trust, for the use of the vestry at their 
 entertainments. Mr. Pierson was elected 
 churchwarden for seven successive years, 
 pending a memorable suit in the eccle- 
 siastical court against the parish, for set- 
 ting up in the church the celebrated 
 painted glass-window of the crucifixion, 
 with certain figures, which were ima- 
 gined to be improper subjects for exhibi- 
 tion in a church. The court decided in 
 favour of the parish, and the painted 
 yfindow remains in its original state. 
 
 In 1713, when Mr. Monck presented 
 his fourpenny Tobacco-Box to his club, 
 he little imagined the honours that would 
 be paid to it, and the consequence it 
 would assume. In 1813, the body of the 
 outer case received a large silver plate, 
 inscribed, " A tribute of gratitude for the 
 3 E 2 
 
ISfS 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 1476 
 
 florious services rendered his country by 
 'ield-Marslial Marquis Wellington,'* with 
 an embossed portrait of the marquis, sur- 
 rounded by genii and military trophies, 
 and bearing the following inscription : — 
 " 1813. This Plate is given to celebrate 
 the duration of this Box for One Hundred 
 Years, by Elisha Gard, Thomas Gullan, 
 and George Henry Malme, overseers." 
 Almost every overseer appears to have 
 vied in securing posthumous fame by a 
 presentation of a silver ornament ; and 
 hence the cases are crowded with the 
 names of official donors. The top of the 
 second case of the box is engraved to re- 
 present the governors and directors of the 
 poor, assembled in their board-room, ad- 
 ministering relief, with this inscription : 
 " I'his plate, and the new case to contain 
 the original box and case, were given by 
 Thomas Bray, and Thomas Kitchen, 
 churchwardens of St. Margaret's ; Joseph 
 Smith, Daniel Gwynne, and John Gaunt, 
 overseers of St. Margaret and of St. John 
 the Evangelist, Westminster; who also 
 repaired the box and the case. The ori- 
 ginal box and cases to be delivered to every 
 succeeding set of overseers, on penalty of 
 fifty guineas. l'783." 
 
 From the manner in which the Society's 
 TobaccO-Box and its cases have been an- 
 nually entrusted to different overseers, 
 without control as to the kind of orna- 
 ments required to be added, or the effi- 
 ciency of the artists employed to execute 
 them, the embellishments are of varied 
 design and executiouj and not of equal 
 merit. The gem of the collection is un- 
 doubtedly the engraving of the old Duke 
 of Cumberland, by Hogarth, upon a 
 plate, within the lid of the original horn- 
 box. 
 
 Notwithstanding the precautions adopt' 
 ed by the past overseers' society, for the 
 preservation of their Tobacco-Box and its 
 adjuncts, its safety was endangered while 
 it was in the custody of Mr. William 
 Gilbert, the senior overseer, 1785. Hav- 
 ing a party of friends to dine with him, 
 he produced the box for their inspection, 
 and after their departure in the evening 
 the dining-room was entered by thieves, 
 who carried off every article of plate 
 which had been used. Very fortunately 
 Mr. Gilbert, under a due sense of the 
 trust reposed in him, had previously re- 
 moved the society's Tobacco-Box. 
 
 Nine years afterwards, the Tobacco- 
 Box was still more jeopardized by the 
 conduct of another keeper. In 1 793, Mr, 
 
 James Read, the overseer on whom its 
 -custody had devolved, refused to attend 
 the annual nleeting of the past overseers' 
 society in the spring of that year, when, 
 according to customary usage^ it became 
 his duty to surrender hjs deposit, for the 
 purpose of its being transferred to his 
 successor in office. Mr. Read alleged, 
 as a reason for his non-attendance, that 
 the vestry had refused to pass bis accounts, 
 and he menaced the society with the de- 
 struction of their Tobacco-Box; Per- 
 sisting in his contumacy, and repeating 
 his threat, the society, in the name of its 
 members, brought an action against him 
 for the recovery of their Tobacco-Box, 
 and a verdict in their favor was reckoned 
 upon as certain; but two recreant mem- 
 bers of the society, Mr. Simeon Handley 
 and Mr. George Byfield, unexpectedly 
 gave Mr. Read a release, which, as they 
 were plaintiffs, he successfully pleaded in 
 bar to the action. Foiled by this unpx- 
 pectedturn of the law, the society resolved 
 upon an appeal toequity. They acco'ding- 
 ly filed a bill inChancery against M r. Read, 
 in which they included Mri Handley and 
 Mr. Byfield, as defendants ; and fearing, 
 that pending the proceedings, Mr. Read 
 would destroy the box, as he had threat- 
 ened, they plied to the court to compel 
 Mr. Read to deliver it to a master in 
 dhancery for safe keeping; and the court, 
 in tender consideration of the premises, 
 ordered Mr. Read to deposit the Tobacco- 
 Box in the office of Master Leeds, there 
 to abide the event of the suit. It may be 
 reasonably considered, that during the 
 abseiice of their Tobacco-Box, the past 
 overseers' society held their usual monthly 
 and annual meetings with as little com- 
 fort and order as either house of parlia- 
 ment without the authoritative presence 
 of a mace. Three long years of litiga- 
 tion and disquietude the members endured, 
 until, upon the 5th of March, 1796, the 
 important cause, " The Past Overseers' 
 Society of the Joint parishes of St. Mar- 
 garet and St. John the 3Bangelist, against 
 Read, Handley, and Byfield," came on for 
 decision. Upon hearing the arguments of 
 counsel on both sides, Loughborough, 
 Lord Chancellor, decreed, " That the To- 
 bacco-Box and Cases should be restored 
 to^he plaintiffs,, that the defendants should 
 pay the costs of the suit in that court, and 
 that the defendant Read should pay the 
 plaintiffs their costs at law;" the total 
 amount of which was about £300. Under 
 this decree, the society recovered their 
 
1577 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 IS76 
 
 Tobacco-Box, with costs of suit ; but, by 
 tlie refractory and illegal proceedings of 
 Mr. Read, they had incurred extra costs, 
 vyhich amounted to £76 13s. lid. To 
 defray that sum, they commenced a sub- 
 scription among themselves, and so cheer- 
 fully did the members contribute, that they 
 raised £91 7s. Od., and with the surplus 
 repaired the Tobacco-Box, and added a 
 new octajjon case to it, forming the third. 
 To record the detention of the box, their 
 memorable struggle, and their signal vic- 
 tory, the top of the new case was honored 
 with a silver plate, upon which was en- 
 graved a figure of Justice trampling upon 
 a prostrate man, whose face, from which 
 a maslc drops upon a writhing serpent, is 
 evidently the portrait of their vanquished 
 antagonist; the inscription upon this re- 
 presentation is, " Justice triumphant! 
 Fraud defeated ! The Box restored ', " 
 A second plate on the outside of the fly- 
 lid, in the top of the new case, bears an 
 engraving of the Court of Chancery, with 
 counsel pleading before the Chncellor, 
 inscribed in capital letters, " The Lotto 
 Chancellou's Decree, restore the 
 BOX to the PAST OVERSEERS' SO- 
 CIETY." On a third plate, withinside 
 the fly-lid, is inscribed, " This Plate and 
 the Case were added by the Society," and 
 the inscription records the circumstances 
 relating to their suit in Chancery, and its 
 successful termination. 
 
 To these particulars concerning the 
 original Tobacco- Box, it is proper to add, 
 that at the bottom of the fourth case, 
 which is the outer one, there is a large 
 circular view of the members of the so- 
 ciety at a table, taking wine, and attend- 
 ing to the proceedings of their chairn^an. 
 The scene may be imagined from the in- 
 scription upon the plate, which runs thus, 
 " The Anniversary Meeting of the Past 
 Overseers' Society, with theCburchwarden 
 giving the Charge, previous to delivering 
 the Box to the succeeding Overseer." The 
 cuter case, inclosing the box, y^ith its 
 other cases, is represented at the head of 
 the table before the churchwarden, who, 
 with his right hand on the case, is in the 
 attitude of giving the " charge" to the 
 " succeeding overseer." 
 
 The ceremonies attending this annual 
 transmission of the Tobacco-Box fmm 
 one overseer to another, testify, in the 
 ^troiigest manner, the solicitude of the 
 society for its preservation. The transfer 
 taltes place after dinner, at the general 
 meeting lield by the society, upon the ap- 
 
 pointment of the new overseers, when, as 
 at all other meetings of tlie society, the 
 senior churchwarden of St. Margaret's 
 presides. After having proposed some 
 of the usual toasts, he demands the re- 
 storation of the society's Tobacco- Box, 
 with its appurtenances, from the senior 
 overseer superseded that day. Upqn 
 compliance with this demand, the secre- 
 tary proceeds to examine and report whe- 
 ther they are in as good state and condi- 
 tion as when they were delivered; .whe- 
 ther any and what ornament had been 
 added; and whether the original box con- 
 tains the proper quantity of tobacco. If 
 the report be satisfactory, the box is placed 
 before the chairman, and he proposes for 
 a toast, "The late overseers of the poor 
 with thaulcs lo them for their care of the 
 box, and the additional ornaments." Hs 
 then enquires of the new senior overseer, 
 whether he is willing to accept the To- 
 bacco-Box and cases upon the usual con- 
 ditions ; upon whose assent, they are de- 
 livered to him by the cliairman, with the 
 foUowmg Charge: — "This Box, and ths 
 several Cases, are the property of the 
 Past Overseers' Society, and delivered 
 into your custody and care, upon condition 
 that they are produced at all parochial 
 entertainments which you shall be invited 
 to, or have a right to attend, and shall 
 contain three pipes of tobacco at the 
 least, under the penalty of six bottles of 
 claret. And, also, upon condition that you 
 shall restore the Box, with the several 
 cases belonging to it, to the Society, in as 
 good a state as the same now are, with 
 some additional ornament, at the next 
 meeting thereof, aiter you shall go out of 
 oflBce, or sooner, if demanded, under the 
 penalty of two hundred guineas." Im- 
 mediately after the delivery of the charge 
 with the box, the chairman proposes as a 
 toast, " The new Overseers, wishing them 
 heatlh to go through their oflBce." This 
 toast concludes the ceremony. 
 
 Owing to the continued inciease in 
 weight and bulk, from successive addi- 
 tions of cases and ornamental plates to 
 the box, it has become -nconvenient for 
 the overseer entrusted with its possession 
 lo produce the whole on every occasion, 
 according to the original regulations; he 
 is, therefore, now required to produce at 
 the evening meetings the original box, 
 with only one case ; but it must be pro- 
 duced with all its cases at the annual 
 dinner, or when the overseers are invited 
 to dine with the churchwardens. Th? 
 
1579 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 29. 
 
 1*80 
 
 high estimation in which it is held by the 
 members, is derived from its being the 
 most valuable and authentic monument of 
 the society from its first institution, and 
 from bringing to recollection many ac- 
 quaintances now no more, who once be- 
 longed to the festive circle, and enlivened 
 it with their wit and humor. Above 
 all, it reminds the society of the unanimity 
 and social feeliug which have hitherto dis- 
 tinguished the chief agents in the admi- 
 nistration of the parochial concerns, and 
 which, in the language of the society's 
 historiographer, " all are bound to perpe- 
 tuate, who enroll themselves under the 
 standard of the Tobacco-Box." 
 
 December 38. — Day breaks 
 
 Snn rises . . 
 — sets . . 
 Twilight ends . 
 
 h. m. 
 6 
 8 6 
 3 34 
 6 
 
 JBtttrnttv 29. 
 
 The Presepio. 
 
 After Christmas day, during the re- 
 mainder of December, there is a Pre- 
 sepio, or representation of the manger in 
 which our Saviour was laid, to be seen in 
 many of the churches at Rome. That of the 
 Ara Coeli is best worth seeing; which 
 church occupies the site of the temple of 
 Jupiter, and is adorned with some of 
 its beautiful pillars. 
 
 On entering, we found daylight 
 completely excluded from the church; 
 and, until we advanced, we did not per- 
 ceive the artificial light, which was so 
 managed as to stream in fluctuating 
 rays, from intervening silveijr clouds, and 
 shed a radiance over the lovely /abe and 
 bending mother, who, in the most grace- 
 ful attitude, lightly holds up the drapery 
 which half conceals her sleeping infant 
 from the bystanders. He lies in richly 
 embroidered swaddling clothes, and nis 
 person, as well as that of his virgin 
 mother, is ornamented with diamonds 
 and other precious stones ; for which 
 purpose, we are informed, the princesses 
 and ladies of high rank lend their jewels. 
 Groups of cattle grazing, peasantry en- 
 gaged in different occupations, and other 
 objects, enliven the picturesque scenery ; 
 every living creature in the group, with 
 eyes directed towards the Presepio, falls 
 prsstrate in adoration. In the front of 
 
 this theatrical representation a little girl, 
 about six or eight years old, stood on a 
 bench, preaching extempore, as it ap- 
 peared, to the persons who filled the 
 church, with all the gesti.iulation of a 
 little actress, probably in commemora- 
 tion of those words of the psalmist, 
 quoted by our blessed Lord — " Out of 
 the mouths of babes and sucklings thou 
 hast perfected praise." In this maimer 
 the Scriptures are acted; not "read, 
 marked, and inwardly digested." The 
 whole scene had, however, a striking ef- 
 fect, well calculated to work upon the 
 minds of a people whose religion con- 
 sists so largely in outward show.* 
 
 Cornish Midsummer Fires. 
 
 An immemorial and peculiar custom 
 prevails on the sea-coast of the westei:n 
 extremity of Cornwall, of kindling large 
 bonfires on the evening of June 24 ; and 
 on the next day the country people, as- 
 sembling in great crowds, amuse theiia- 
 selves with excursions en the water. I 
 cannot help thinking it the remains of an 
 ancient Druidical festival, celebrated on 
 midsummer-day, to implore the friendly 
 influence of heaven on their fields, coir 
 pounded with that of the first of May, wheli 
 the Druids kindled large fires on all their 
 sacred places, and on the tops of all their 
 cairns, in honor of Bel, or Belinus, the 
 name by which they distinguished the 
 sun, whose revolving course had again 
 clothed the earth with beauty, and diffus- 
 ed joy and gladness through the creation. 
 Their water parties on the 24th prove 
 that they consider the summer season as 
 now so fully established, that they are not 
 afraid to commit themselves to the mercy 
 of the waves. If we reflect on the rooted 
 animosity which subsisted between the 
 Romans and Druids, and that the latter, 
 on being expelled from their former resi- 
 dences, found, together with the miserable 
 remnants of the Britons, an asylum in 
 the naturally fortified parts of the island, 
 we shall not be surprised at their customs 
 having been faintly handed down through 
 such a long succession of ages. That 
 Cornwall was one of their retreats is 
 sufficiently proved by the numerous re- 
 mains of their circular temples, cromlechs, 
 cairns, &c. Even in the eleventh century, 
 whenChristianity was become the national 
 religion, the people were so attached to 
 
 * A narrative of three years in Italy. 
 
1581 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 29. 
 
 1582 
 
 their apcient superstitions, that we tind a 
 law of Canute the great strictly prohibit- 
 ing all his subjects from paying adoration 
 to the sun, moon, sacred groves and 
 woods, hallowed hills and fountains. If, 
 then, this propensity to idolatry cauld 
 not be rooted out of those parts of the 
 kingdom exposed to the continual influx 
 of foreigners, and the horrors of frequent 
 war, how much more must it have flour- 
 ished in Cornwall, and those parts where 
 the Druids long preserved their authority 
 and influence. It may, therefore, be fairly 
 inferred that, from their remote situation, 
 and comparative insignificancy with the 
 rest of England, they preserved those 
 religious solemnities unmolested; and, 
 corrupted as they must naturally be by 
 long usage and tradition, yet are handed 
 down to us to this day with evident marks 
 of a Druidical origin.* 
 
 IIe.\rne, the Aktiquaey. 
 
 The rev. Mark Noble, in a note upon 
 Hearne, says, — " Mr. Granger notices a 
 ridiculous print of him, which was en- 
 graved at Oxford, and only six, it is said, 
 were worked off. He is represented 
 between two printers, at a public-house, 
 where the floor is paved with sheep's 
 bones, mistaken by him for a Roman pave- 
 ment. He adds, also, ' the circumstance 
 is noticed in the Oxford Sausage,' but I 
 do not observe it in that collection." It 
 is not there; but it is in "A Com- 
 panion to the Guide, and a Guide to the 
 Companion," a witty Oxferd tract by Dr. 
 T. V/arton, and this is the doctor's ludi- 
 crous account : — 
 
 " in this quarter of the town the curi- 
 ous are likewise invited to visit an antique 
 pot-house, known by the historical sign of 
 Whittington and his Cat.f Here that 
 laborious Antiquarian Mr. Thomas Hearne 
 one evening suffered himself to be over- 
 taken in liquor. But it should be re- 
 membered that this accident was more 
 owing to his love of antiquity than of ale. 
 It happened that the kitchen where he 
 and his companion were sitting was neatly 
 paved with slieep's trotters, disposed in 
 various compartments. After one pipe, 
 Mr. Hearne, consistently with his usual 
 gravity and sobriety, proposed to depart ; 
 but his friend, who was inclined to enjoy 
 more of his company, artfully observed 
 that the floor on which they were then 
 sitting was no less than au original tessel- 
 
 * Gents. Mag. April, 1795. 
 
 lated Roman pavement. Out of respect 
 to classic ground, and on recollection that 
 the Stunsfield Roman pavement, on which 
 he had just published a dissertation, was 
 dedicated to Bacchus, our antiquary cheer- 
 fully complied : an enthusiastic transport 
 seized his imagination ; he fell on his 
 knees and kissed the saered earth ; on 
 which, in a few hours and after a few 
 tankards, by a sort of sympathetic attrac- 
 tion, he was obliged to repose for some 
 part of the evening. His friend was pro- 
 bably in the same condition ; but two 
 printers accidentally coming in conducted 
 Mr. Hearne, betwixt them, to Edmund 
 Hall, with much state and solemnity." 
 
 Then follows a print of " this unusual 
 procession," which is aptly denominated 
 " a lively representation from an original 
 — kindly communicated by Mr. Dawiel 
 Prince," the Oxford bookseller, of wkom 
 there is a preceding notice. In the " Ox- 
 ford Sausage" there is merely the following 
 ical poem on Warton's prose satire : — 
 
 Epistle from Thomas Hearne, Anti- 
 quary, TO THE Author of the Com- 
 panion TO the Oxford Guide, &c. 
 
 Friend of the moss-grown spire and crumbliug 
 
 arch, 
 Whowoat'stateve to pace the long-lost bounds 
 Of lonesome Oaeney ! What malignant fiend 
 Thy cloyster-loving mind from ancient lore 
 Hath base seduc'd ! Urg'd thy apostate pen 
 To trench deep wounds on antiquaries sage^ 
 And drag the venerable fathers forth. 
 Victims to laughter ! Cruel as the mandate 
 Of mitred priests, who Baskett late enjoin'd 
 To t-brow aside the reverend letters blacky 
 And print Fast Prayers in modem typel At 
 
 this 
 Lelandf and Wiilis, Dugdale, Tanner j Wood, 
 Illustrious names ! with Camden, Aubrey, 
 
 Lloyd, 
 Scald their old cheeks with tears ! For once 
 
 they hop'd 
 To seal thee for their own, and fondly deem'd 
 The muses, at thy call, would crowding come 
 To deck antiquity with flow'rets gay. 
 
 But now may curses every search attend 
 That seems inviting ! may'st thou pore in vain 
 For dubious door-ways ! may revengeful motlis- 
 Thy ledgers eat ! may chronologic spouts 
 Retain no cypher legible ! may crypts 
 Lurk und'iscerned I nor may'st thou spell the 
 
 names 
 Of saints in storied windows ! nor the dates 
 Of bells discover ! nor the genuine site 
 Of abbots' pantries ! and may Godstowe veil. 
 Deep from thy eyes profane,: her Gothic 
 
 charms! '' 
 
1583 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— DECEMBER 89. 
 
 1584 
 
 Chong thie Loong kee. 
 Most humbly beg leave to acqu 
 : aint the Gentlemen trading to 
 this kort that the above mention 
 : ed chop has been long established 
 dnd is much esteemed for its Black 
 and young Hyson Tea but fearing 
 the foreigners might be cheated by tho 
 : se shumeless persons who forged this 
 chop he therefore take the liberty to 
 pallish these few lines for its 
 remark and trust. 
 
 A CHINESE TEA- 
 
 The preceding is a copy, letter for let- 
 ter, of an announcement by a Chinese 
 tea-man to English consumers. The ori- 
 ginal is from an engraving upon wooJ, 
 printed in black, on thin paper, colored 
 yellow, and slightly sprinkled with gold 
 leaf. There is a border to it an inch and 
 a quarter wide, representing a tendril, or 
 
 MAN'S SHOP-BILL 
 
 sprig of the tea-plant in outline, surround" 
 ing the entire bill. The bill and border are 
 of the above furm, and measure together 
 thirteen inches and a half, by eight and 
 three quarters. Mr. James Mitchell, of 
 Leicester, communicated the bill as a 
 specimen of Chirtese-English. 
 
1585 
 
 THE YEAH BOOK.— DECEMBER 29. 
 
 1586 
 
 Perpetual Motion. 
 Dr. Roberts, at Bridport, in the course of 
 a lecture on Magnetism, observed, that if 
 any substance could be discovered imper- 
 vious to its influence the perpetual motion 
 would no longer remain an unsolved pro- 
 blem ; and he referred to an article in 
 " Blackwood's Magazine" (1807) which 
 asserted that the perpetual motion had 
 been discovered and that the operative 
 power was magnetism. This "perpetual 
 motion" was effected by two horse-slioe 
 magnets nicely adjusted at a short distance 
 from each other, with a small bar of steel 
 accurately suspended between them ; the 
 magnetic fluid, circulating in a regular 
 stream from one magnet to the other, kept 
 \ the steel bar in constant and rapid motion. 
 • It was represented that this motion had 
 continued without intermission for several 
 Vears, that there did not appear any reason 
 TWy it should not continue for ever ; and 
 thy.t persons of eminent scientific attain- 
 meits certified that it was impossible 
 thei^ could beany deception. Dr. Roberts 
 said that this statement had incited him to 
 aim at constructing a similar apparatus, 
 but after much time and thought he aban- 
 doned it as impracticable. A long while 
 after the appearance of the article in 
 " Blackwood" a man called upon Dr. 
 Roberts with the identical contrivance 
 still in motion, and the man informed the 
 Doctor that it had so continued more than 
 six years. The Doctor approached it with 
 a powerful magnet; but it began to waver 
 and the doctor drew back from apprehen- 
 sion that he might stop it, and deprive its 
 owner of a guinea a day, which he obtain- 
 ed by showing it, and on which he subsist- 
 ed. The doctor would have purchased 
 the contrivance, but the man absolutely de- 
 clined to sell it, and continued his travels 
 with it to Plymouth. He returned from 
 thence to Bridport, was seized with a mor- 
 tal illness, and in his last moments ap- 
 peared disposed to reveal the secret to the 
 doctor, who, however, did not get to him 
 in time, and the man died. This inven- 
 tion he left to the doctor, into whose pos- 
 session the machine had scarcely passed 
 when it stopped. On a minute examina- 
 tion Dr. Roberts discovered the secret. 
 The apparatus was mounted on a piece 
 of solid mahogany, about half an inch 
 thick, with a piece of green baize in tlie 
 bottom ; on removing this baize the maho- 
 any was found to be hollowed, and a 
 piece of watch-work inserted which v/ould 
 maintain the motion for twelve hours. Tlie 
 man liat) successfully palmed this rnntriv- 
 
 ance as a perpetual motion upon 
 " Christopher North" and his scientific 
 correspondents ; and carried on the de- 
 ception from the north of the Tweed to 
 the chops of the channel withoutdetection.* 
 
 Cmaracts. 
 
 These seem to have been charms in the 
 form of inscriptions. ■ There is mention 
 of a proscription in Dugdale's Orig. 
 Jurid. « That he use ne hide, ne charme, 
 ne charecte." In Gower, de Confessione 
 Amantis, we read of one, who 
 " With his Carrecte would him enchaunt." 
 
 In the dialogue of Dives anci Pauper, 
 printed by R. Pynson, 1493, among 
 superstitious practices then in use, we 
 find the following censured : " Or use 
 any charmes in gadering of herb^, or 
 harigynge of scrowcs aboute man or^wo- 
 man or childe or beest -for wy seknesse, 
 with any Scripture or figures and Carectes, 
 but if it be pater noster, ave, or the crede, 
 or holy wordes of the gospel, or of lioly 
 wryt, for devocion nat for curiouslie, and 
 only with the tokene of the holy ciosse." 
 
 Lord Northampton, in his " Defensa- 
 tive against the poyson of supposed pro- 
 phecies," 4to. 1583, says, « One of the 
 Reysters which served under the Frenche 
 admirall, at the siege of Poicters, was 
 founde, after he was dead, to have about 
 his necke a purse of taffata, and within 
 the same a piece of parchment full of 
 c/iaraclfrs in Hebrew; beside many cy- 
 cles, semicircles, tryangles, &c., with 
 sundrie shorte cuttes and shreddings of 
 the psalmes. Deus misereatur nostri, 
 &c. Angelis suis mandavit de te, &c. 
 Super Aspidem et Basiliscum, &c., as 
 if the prophecies wliich properly belong 
 to Christe, might be wrested to the safe- 
 guard and defence of every private man." 
 
 • The following " Charm, or Protection,'" 
 was found in a linen purse, on the body 
 of one Jackson, a murderer and smuggler, 
 who died in Chichester gaol, Feb. 1749. 
 He was struck with such horror on being 
 measured for his irons, that he soon after 
 expired. 
 
 " Ye ihree lioly kings,- 
 " Gaspar, Mclchior, Ballhasar, 
 " Pray for us, now, and at the hour of deaths" 
 " These papers have touched the three 
 heads of the holy kings of Cologne. 
 Tliey are to preserve travellers from acci- 
 dents on the road, liead-achs, failing-sick- 
 ness, fevers, witchcraft, ail kinds of 
 mischief, and sudden dea tli."f 
 
 * Dorset County Chronicle, April 7th, 1831. 
 
 t Bran I. 
 
1'58? 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30. 
 
 io8sr 
 
 Old Laws. 
 
 Ale. — When a quarter of barley is sold 
 for two shillings, men fou. iquarts of ale 
 shall be sold for a penny ; and so, from 
 henceforth," the prices shall increase or 
 decrease. — (51 Btenry III., stat. 6). If 
 any ale-house keeper shall sell less than a 
 full quart of ale for a penny, or of the 
 small ale two quarts for a penny, he shall 
 forfeit for every such offence the sum of 
 twenty shillings. — (1 James I. cap. 9). 
 
 Drunkenness. — Every person convicted 
 of the ofFeBce of drunkenness, shall for- 
 feit five sliillings ; and every person that 
 shall again be convicted, shall be bound 
 in two sureties to be from thenceforth of 
 good behaviour. — (4 James I. cap. 5). 
 
 Fairs. — The king commandeth that 
 from henceforth neither fairs nor markets 
 be kept in church-yards, for the honor of 
 the church, — (1 3 Edward I. stat. 2, cap. 6). 
 
 Fortvne-Tellers. — It shall be felony to 
 declare anv false prophecy. — (23 Henry 
 VIII. cap.'l4). 
 
 h. m. 
 
 December 29. — Day breaks . 5 59 
 
 Sun rises ..86 
 
 — sets ... 3 54 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 1 
 
 ■Btcemfitv 30. 
 
 It is proposed, preparatory to con 
 eluding the year, and the present work, 
 "to-morrow, to devote to this day a se- 
 lection from several articles contributed 
 Sv the kindness of correspondents. 
 
 The DiviNiKG Rod. 
 
 Ezekiel mentions divination by the rod, 
 or wand. Hosea reproaches (he Jews as 
 being infected with the like superstition : 
 " My people ask counsel at their stocks, 
 and their staff declareth unto them," 
 chap. iv. 12. The Chaldeans, and almost 
 every nation -which practised divination, 
 used rods in their performances. In 
 Sheppard's Epigrams, 1651, we find: 
 
 Virgula Divinn. 
 Some sorcerers do boast they have a rod, 
 
 Gather'd with vowes and sacrifice, 
 And (^borne about,) will strangely nod 
 
 To hidden treasure where it lies : 
 Mankind is (sure) that rod divine. 
 For to the wealthiest (ever) they incline." 
 
 The notion still prevails in Eng- 
 land of the hazel's tendency to a vein of 
 lead ore, a seam or stratum of coal, water, 
 &c. In the "Living Library, or Hom- 
 licnll Meditations," 1621, we read that 
 
 " no man can tell wiiy forked sticks of 
 hazill (rather than sticks of other trees 
 g^-owing jipon the very same places) are 
 fit to shcfw the places where the veines of 
 gold and silver are. The sticke bending 
 ilselfe in the places, at the bottome, 
 where.' the same veines are." Lilly, in 
 the History of his Life and Times, men- 
 tions a curious experiment (which he 
 confesses, however, to have failed) to dis- 
 cover hidden treasure by the hazel rod. 
 
 Much ha? been written upon this sub- 
 ject of late, but the only notice that 
 aan be further taken of it is in the follow- 
 ing communication. 
 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 The Divihing Rod. 
 
 In answer to a request on the Wrapper 
 of the Year Book for information upon 
 this subject, the following letter lias been 
 received from the gentleman whose ini- 
 tials are attached to it : his name is pri- 
 vately communicated in verification of 
 the facts he states ; — 
 
 Sib,' 
 
 I perceive, in the last number of the 
 Year Book, that you invite authenticated 
 communications on the subject of the 
 Divining Rod; I am tempted therefore to 
 send you what little I know about it, and 
 I do this the more readily because I am 
 persuaded the subject requires, if it does 
 not deserve, investigation. Whatever may 
 be the merits of the Divining Rod in the 
 opinion of the educated and scientific, its 
 efficacy is, I believe, very generally cre- 
 dited in the coal and other mining districts, 
 and persoHS who have the reputatiomof 
 being skilled in its use are had recourse 
 to with as much faith as is the " wise 
 man," or " cunning woman," of the neigh- 
 bourhood, in affairs of another description. 
 It is therefore, in my view, of some im-' 
 portance to disabuse the credulous of 
 belief inan imposture, if it be suoh, since, 
 however innocent in itself, the habit of 
 taking tne marvellous upon trust, or of 
 relying upon the supernatural in the 
 common affairs of life, is very weakening 
 and injurious to the mind. 
 
 About five years ago, 1 was staying a 
 short time in the country, a few miles 
 hence; and one fine sultry day,- in July, I 
 Vf ent with a friend of mine, on an e.'(Cursion 
 to a place called Dundey,a village a short 
 distance from Bristol, situate on an emi- 
 nence which commands a very splendid 
 view, and remarkable for its lofty and 
 iiandsome tower. We were accompanied 
 by a farmer of the neighbourhood, who 
 
l£8d 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30. 
 
 1590 
 
 acted as our guide, and who proposed 
 taking us to a farm-house at Dundey, oc- 
 cupied by aa^apquaintance of his. In the 
 course of chat it came out that our in- 
 tended host was much noted in those 
 parts for his successful use of the Divin- 
 mg Rod, or, as our companion called it, 
 the "finding stick," and my curiosity was 
 mucli excited to witness an instance of its 
 appli(»tion. We found him to be a re- 
 spectable, good looking young man, of 
 the class of hard-working renting farmers, 
 tolerably " well to do'' in the world. 
 There was nothing of pretension in his 
 manner, and no symptoms of the mixed 
 impudence and cunning in his counte- 
 nance which commonly mark the physi- 
 ognomy of a professor of " arts occult." 
 In a word, I should any day have set 
 down such a man in my own mind as no 
 conjurer, take it which way you will, 
 After partaking of some hospitable fare, 
 I soon found meaus to introduce the sub- 
 ject, and he readily consented to give me 
 a specimen of his divination. I have said 
 that it was a fine sultry day : it had also 
 been extremely hot and dry for some 
 weeks, so much so that there was a great 
 want of water on high grounds. The de- 
 ficiency of the usual supply had been so 
 much felt at this farm, that it was found 
 necessary to sink a well bb the premises. 
 Now amongst the many virtues ascribed 
 to the "finding-stick " is that of detecting 
 the presence ef water-springs ; and ac- 
 cordingly we were assured that this well 
 had been sunk in accordance with the de- 
 cisions of the silent oracle. We were 
 also informed that a short time before the 
 farmer had discovered a well for a person 
 living some miles efi", by similar means. 
 
 I will now endeavour to describe the 
 rod, and the mode ef its being used. I 
 accompany this with a rough sketch for 
 the purpose of explanation. The rod is 
 a little, slight forked stick, of withy or 
 some other pliable wood, and cut for the 
 occasion from the nearest hedge or tree. 
 
 The operator takes one of the branches 
 of the fork B in each hand ; and, extend- 
 ing the shaft or stem A horizontally from 
 his body, moves slowly over and about 
 the spot which i»,|||pposed to conceal the 
 spring of water or the vein of coal. 
 
 I will complete the description by re- 
 lating what I myself witnessed, — premis- 
 ing that I watched the whole affair with 
 all the closeness and suspicion of incre- 
 dulity : — 
 
 Our friend the farmer, accompanied by 
 us, and holding the stick as above, tra- 
 versed the court-yard in which the well 
 had been dug, with much gravity. So 
 long as he kept aloof from the well, there 
 was no motion whatever in the stick ; as 
 we approached the water, I thought I 
 fancied a slight depression in the stem, 
 but, when held immediately over the 
 well, the stem obviously declined, and 
 bent down, till it pointed to the ground, 
 and the apparent attraction was so grea 
 that it quite turned round, and was nearly 
 broken from the fork. All this time, the 
 branches of the fork were firmly grasped, 
 and the hands did not move in the smallest 
 perceptible degree. Now let one take 
 hold of a stick, as I have described, and 
 he will find it impossible to move the 
 stem without also moving his hands. 
 Here then is a most singular mystery, 
 for I cannot account for it on any suppo- 
 sition of peculiar muscular power, or of 
 sleight of hand. 
 
 We afterwards got him to exhibit many 
 proofs of his art, one 'oi which I will 
 mention. We placed three hats on the 
 ground, and under one of them (not al- 
 lowing him of course to know which) wa 
 put a watoh. He held the stick as before 
 ever each of them, and when he came to 
 that which contained the watch, the sud- 
 den downward movement of the stem was 
 amusingly palpable : it looked like magic. 
 I must now state a circumstance that 
 tells against our faith in the Divining 
 Rod, it is that the stick was wholly inert 
 and passive when used by us, although 
 we rigidly followed the instructions of the 
 professor. 
 
 This objection was got rid of by the as- 
 sertion that there are few in whose hands 
 the stick has any power. But this savours 
 so much of quackery, that did not the 
 man's character forbid the supposition, 
 and had 1 not seen what I have detailed, 
 I should at once set him down as an im- 
 postor, or at least as the dupe of his own 
 craft. Other objections will of course 
 
<iJI 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK,— DECEMBER 30. 
 
 ISii 
 
 occur to jour ingenious reaaers. My 
 
 present business is with facts, and I 
 
 ■ sliould be glad to see from others a satis- 
 
 factory theory on the subject. 
 1 am, Sir, yours, &c., 
 
 Bdth. April 7. 1831. 
 
 W. M, 
 
 THE CHANGE. 
 
 [For the Year Book.J 
 Lonisa, serious grown, and mild, 
 I knew you or.ce a romping Child, 
 Obstreperous much, and very wild. 
 Then you would clamber up my knees, 
 And strive with every art to tease. 
 When every art of yours could please. 
 Those things would scarce be proper now. 
 But they, are gone — I know not how, — 
 And Woman 's written on your brow 
 Time draws his finger o'er the scene ; 
 But I cannot forget between 
 The Thing to me You once have been : 
 Each sportive sally — wild escape — 
 The scofF, the banter, and the jape — 
 And antics of my gamesome Ape 
 
 C, LAMB. 
 
 Memoranda. 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 
 Prize little things — nor think it ill— 
 That men small things preserve.- 
 
 Genti-e Reader, 
 
 Our worthy compiler, Mr. 
 Hone, having requested "genuine par- 
 ticulars of any local usages, or customs," 
 suited to the pages of the Year Book, (torn 
 all wlio have it in their power to furnish 
 such information, and his kind corre- 
 spondent " A. W. of Edinburgh " having 
 " followed on the same side,"* I am in- 
 duced to lay before you these loose 
 " memoranda " hastily thrown together, 
 as an " earnest of my willingness to con- 
 tribute my humble mite of information in 
 furtherance of his laudable endeavour to 
 ' complete a popular and full record of 
 the customs, the seasons, and the ancient 
 usages of our country.' " I therefore 
 crave your indulgence, and if approved — 
 hope to be able to glean something more 
 anon — or, to use the words of Shakspeare's 
 Sir Hugh Evans, '^ peradventure, shall 
 tell you another tale-s^if matters grow to 
 your liking."t 
 
 * Sec ante. col. 395. 
 
 t [Communications subsequently received 
 
 from this kind correspondent have been 
 
 Ircady inserted, 'J'lie present, in the order 
 
 of contribution, should have prcteded them. 
 
 — W. II.] 
 
 Shrove Tuesday. — At Baldock, in Hertr 
 fordshire. Shrove Tuesday is long counted' 
 of by the "juveniles," by whom it is 
 known as " Dough-nut Day," it being 
 usual for the " mothers " to make good 
 store of small cakes fried in hog's lard, 
 placed over the fire in a brass kettle or 
 skillet, called " dough-nuts," wherewith 
 the "younger fry" are plenteously re« 
 galed. Of their wholesomeness 1 cannot 
 aver, but ihey are allowed to take pre- 
 cedence of pancakes and fritters. The 
 custom is also general in other parts of 
 the country. 
 
 Saint David. — To the "wearing of the 
 leek," and other customs peculiar to the 
 first of March related at sufficient length 
 in the Every-Day Book, it may perhaps 
 
 be worthy of addition, that " taffies " 
 
 small figures of white " parlement," like 
 gingerbread, moulded into the semblance 
 of "a Welshman riding on a goat,'' 
 affixed to a skewer of wood, were wont 
 to be exhibited in the shop-windows of 
 the gingerbread bakers, small pastry- 
 cooks, and chandlers, \n the metropolis, 
 and large towns in the country. — The 
 skewer was inserted as hand-hold for the 
 young masters and misses, their pur- 
 chasers. These ancient "nic-njics,'' so 
 familiar to many in their "joyful school- 
 days " — as C. Lamb has it — have entirely 
 disappeared from their accustomed place 
 within these few years— to the no small 
 loss of every " little child that has well 
 behaved itself." 
 
1593 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK— DECEMBEU 30. 
 
 1594 
 
 Falm Sunday. — At Kempton, in Hert- 
 fordshire, five miles from St. Alban's, it 
 hath long been — and for aught the writer 
 knoweth still is — a custom for the in- 
 habitants, '^rich and poor, great and 
 small," to eat figs on the Sunday b^sfore. 
 Easter, there termed " Fig Sunday " — 
 when it is also usual for them to " keep 
 T/vassel,'' and make merry with their 
 friends. A dealer in " groceries," resident 
 at Kempton, affirmed to me from his own 
 lengthy observation, that more figs are 
 sold in the village the few days previous 
 than in all the year beside. I am not 
 aware that any similar usage is in exist- 
 «ice> neither can I form any probable 
 conjecture illustrative of its origin. 
 
 May Day. — At Baldock (before men- 
 tioned) formerly the peasantry were ac- 
 customed to make a "my lord and my 
 lady " in effigy on the first of May. 
 
 The corporal lineaments of these figures 
 were constructed a-la-Guy Fawkes, of 
 rags, pasteboard, old masks, old canvas, 
 straw, &c., and were " dressed up " in 
 tite holiday habiliments of their "fabri- 
 cators,"-^"my lady" in the " best gown'd," 
 apron, kerchief, and mob cap of " the 
 dame," and " my lord " in the " Sunday 
 gear " of her " master " — to wit, perhaps 
 a "nutmeg" coat, "posied" waistcoat, 
 leather breeches, speckled stockings, and 
 half-boots. Those wl;o wished to "get 
 up " a show of this kind, thinking of the 
 gain to be acquired thereby, would join 
 their stocks of wearables together, and 
 any lacking such " properties " as those 
 enumerated above, could easily obtain 
 them on loan from their neighbours "a 
 little better to do in the world." In ad- 
 dition to which a wig for " my lord " was 
 the only article -wanting to render the 
 costume of the "effigies" complete;— a 
 flaxen one discarded by its original owner, 
 purchased at second hand, was prized by 
 the " careful cronies " as a requisite in- 
 dispensable to the respectable appearance 
 of the " character." The tiring finished, 
 " the pair " — and sure such a pair were 
 never seen elsewhere — were seated on 
 chairs or joint-stools placed outside the 
 " cottage door," or in the porch or settle, 
 most lovingly side by side — their bosoms 
 ornamented with large bouquets or May 
 flowers and blossoms. These resem- 
 blances, or rather misresemblances of 
 greatness, were the " supporters " of a hat, 
 into which the contributions of the 
 lookers-on were put. Before them, on a 
 table, was arranged a mug of ale, a 
 
 drinking horn, a pipe, a pair of spectacles, 
 and mayhap that " folio of four pages '" 
 y'cleped a newspaper. 
 
 At the " backside," an irregular street 
 of cottages in the suburbs of the town, 
 chiefly tenanted by the poorer working 
 class, the greatest display of " lords and 
 ladies" was usually exhibited. On many 
 a May day morning within the recollec- 
 tion of the writer, there has been " on 
 view," at this spot, from five to ten 
 " couples " or " knots " of those pseudo- 
 mummings of " the nobles of the land." 
 These dumb shows, as may be expected, 
 attracted a crowd of gazers. They varied 
 according to the materials and skill of the 
 constructors. One old woman named 
 Betty Trom, long since deceased, is still 
 remembered as a capital hand at "making 
 up" a May day "my lord, and my lady,'' 
 of whose appearance the above is a 
 faithful description. The origin pf this 
 singular, not to say ludicrous, custom of 
 attiring inanimate figures in the humble 
 garb of cottagers, to counterfeit persons 
 of rank, or whether any particular indi- 
 viduals were intended to be. represented, 
 and how and when they first became con- 
 nected with the sports on May day, are to 
 me alike unknown. The subject is 
 worthy of elucidation.* 
 
 The observance of the usage just de- 
 tailed was exclusively confined to the 
 " good wives " of the laboring poor re- 
 sident in the town, who were amply com- 
 pensated for their pains-taking by the 
 " voluntary contributions," which ge- 
 nerally amounted to "something conei- 
 derable." But these were not the only 
 " solicitors " on May day. The " juve- 
 niles" of Baldock, also, had an admirable 
 scheme for obtaining a " passing notice," 
 and the " what you will " from the kindly 
 disposed. The modest curtsey of the 
 girls, with their " Please to look at the 
 garland. Sir or Ma'am," and their shouts 
 of thanks on receiving a gratuity, are now 
 before me. For, wishing to render these 
 brief descriptions correct, I would fain 
 invoke the aid of 
 
 — " Memory — celestial maid — 
 Who glean'st the fragments crop'd by time," — 
 to bring those moments to my mind when 
 life was new, and when I largely partici- 
 pated in those " homely joys " peculiar to 
 
 * [In the Kvery-Day Booi, &c., usages are 
 described whence may be gathered consider- 
 able illustrations of " my lord and my lady." 
 — W. H.] 
 
1595 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30. 
 
 1596 
 
 past times, with feeiings of pleasure and 
 delight. 
 
 Their garland was constructed of hoops 
 transversed, decorated with flowers, rib- 
 bons, &c., affixed .to tlie extremity of a 
 staff, by which it was borne, similar to 
 those at Northampton and Lynn, so fully 
 described in the Every-Hay Book, and 
 the Table Book. A " gay " siilk handker- 
 chief, tastefully ornamented with " bows" 
 of colored ribbon, pendant from an 
 "ashen" bough, formed a flag to be 
 carried by the smartest of the group 
 walking stately on before. The cleanly 
 healthy appearance of parties of these 
 laughter-loving children, awake and out 
 with the sun, exhibiting their garlands at 
 " each good neighbour's and pretty maid's 
 door" — with their heartfelt gratitude fov 
 the trifling meeds bestowed on their 
 well-merited endeavours, formed a 
 pleasing picture on which I cannot now 
 look back without regret. The money 
 osUected m the course of the day was 
 apportioned to various uses. In the 
 afterneoH the "elders" made "parties," 
 and solaced themselves with " a dish of 
 tea :" and, in re-telling tales of other times, 
 "told many a time and oft." The garland- 
 bearing over, the " smaller growth" 
 imused themselves at various games, and 
 were al«e refreshed. The revels invariably 
 ending with the well-known "Thread my 
 needle," er "Needle-tick," which was 
 played "up and down and all round" 
 the tewn, by the children in great num- 
 bers, the sports lasted until 
 
 " Night had her sable curtain spread." 
 
 Such was the manner in which the first 
 of May was "kept" at Baldock, at the 
 period ef my earliest recollections. I 
 have no means of correctly ascertaining 
 "how things are at present," but, to the 
 best of my belief, the customs mentioned 
 a^re now obsolete. 
 
 May 3rd, O. S. — It is a common saying 
 in many parts of Bedfordshire, when_^ifs 
 first begin to be troublesome on meat, 
 fish, &c., that "the flies have been to El- 
 stow fair to buy their bellows." The 
 time of their appearance is generally 
 coeval with the annual fair held at Elstow 
 on May 3rd, Old Style, now the 15th. 
 
 Harvest Proverb. — 
 " In July, some reap rye, 
 " In August, if one will not the other must." 
 
 This is a proverbial saying still repeated 
 by the peasantry in Hertfordshire and 
 
 Bedfordshire, about the time of year 
 named in it. 
 
 Wheat-sowing Cake.— At Blunham, a 
 small village near Tempsford, in Bed- 
 fordshire, it is customary after wheat- 
 sowing, for the farmers' wives to make 
 and send as presents to their relations, 
 friends, and acquaintance, cakes of dough, 
 sweetened, and very agreeably flavored 
 with carraways, &c., which they term 
 " Siblett Cakes." This usage, now per- 
 haps peculiar to Blunham, is of great 
 antiquity ; its origin is not correctly 
 known. A friend suggests that it may 
 probably be a relic of the times of the 
 ancients, with whom it was common to 
 make propitiatory offerings to the goddess 
 Ceres, after the sowing of corn. Twenty 
 years ago this "gift giving" was very 
 
 liberally kept up. Mrs. D , an old 
 
 resident at Blunham, known to the writer, 
 assured him that she has received at 
 least fifteen large cakes at one season, 
 each kindly presented to her from some 
 farm-house in the neighbourhood. While 
 .recording this interesting custom in the 
 Year Book, the writer sincerely laments 
 ^at the observance is now rapidly, disap- 
 pearing before " the march of intellect," 
 to the great grief of every lover of those 
 pastoral associations with which it was 
 once perhaps connected. 
 
 Gooding Day. — ^At Blunham, also, the 
 custom of poor widows " going, a-goodr 
 ing," on the festival of St.iFhomas, De- 
 cember, 21st, is still maintained, though 
 certainly with less spirit than of former 
 years within remembrance (O, tempera !). 
 The aged poor women annually receive a 
 certain number of loaves of bread each, 
 the benevolent contributions of the neigh- 
 bouring gentry, farmers, &c. 
 
 A Christmas Dish. — At Potton, and 
 the places adjacent, some " sixty years 
 since," when festival feastings were spir- 
 itedly maintained by the unchecked zeal 
 of our forefathers (worthy souls, peace to 
 their manes !), it was usual to place on 
 the table, at Christmas entertainments, 
 the "Apple Florentine," a palatable con- 
 fection, of which the whole of the guests, 
 invariably partook. 
 
 According to parental tradition, this 
 " Florentine" consisted of an immensely 
 large dish of pewter, or such like metal, 
 filled with " good baking apples," sugar, 
 and lemon, to the very brim ; with a roll 
 of rich pasts' as a covering — pie fashion. 
 When baket^, and before serving up, the 
 "upper crust" or "lid," was taken off by 
 
1597 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30. 
 
 1503 
 
 a " skilful hand," and divided into size- 
 able triangular portions or shares, to be 
 again returned into the dish, ranged in 
 formal " order round," by way of garnish ; 
 when, to complete the mess, a full quart 
 of well-spiced ale was poured in, " quite 
 hot, hissing hot: think of that Master 
 Brook" — admirable conjuction ! as many 
 of the "olde, olde, very olde," sojourners 
 at Potton can testify. The writer well 
 remembers, in his childhood, spent in an 
 adjacent village, an oval-shaped pewter 
 dish, standing on the upper shel-f of the 
 kitchen dresser " for ornament, not use," 
 then pointed at and highly valued as 
 having had the honor (1) of containing 
 "Apple Florentine"' at no fewer than 
 thirty festivals. At the period mentioned 
 in the commencement of this " brief no- 
 tice" of its merits, this ancient " dainty " 
 was in its pris.tine glory, but suoceeding 
 years saw its wonted place supplied by 
 something "more iashienable," and various 
 changes and alterations (not fer the better 
 but for the worse) have taken place since 
 it last 
 
 " smoaked on the Christmas board." 
 
 Its contemporary " Snap-dragen," if 1 
 mistake not, is stiH in vogue as a "merry 
 pastime," to " drive dull care away," on a 
 wiiit^r's evening. 
 
 Doggerell Inscription.-^At a little ale- 
 house, at the road side, between Sutton 
 and Eotton, in Bedfordshire, the fol- 
 lovdng curious lines appear wrhten over 
 the door : they are copied verbatim — 
 
 " Butt Beere, Solde Hear 
 by Timothy Dear 
 
 " Cum. tak. «. mugg, of mye. triaker. cita 
 
 ti'ink. 
 Thin, a ful. kart. of mye. ver-ry. stroa. dria^ 
 Harter. that. trye. a. ca:nn. of. mye. dt-tor- 
 
 cum- tatter. 
 And. windehup. wi-the. mye. Esvioity*ty-mes- 
 
 weaker- thin- waiter." 
 
 [We(e. — John of Gaunt^ by his will, gave 
 the manors of SuMon anfl Potton to the Bur- 
 goyne family. 
 
 *' I, Jcfh-n of Gaunt, do give and do grant 
 To t'hee and to thine^ Sif Roger Burgeyne, 
 Sutton and Potton, until all the world's rotten." 
 
 Curious Altar-piece. — Most readers are 
 aware tha-t the celebrated Dr. Young was 
 rector of Wellwyn in Hertfordshire, but 
 it is a circurastanoe less known that h>is 
 acoosaplished andexcelleBt lady designed, 
 and executed with her own hands, an 
 elegant piece ef needlework to adorn the 
 altar ef Wellwyn church. This interesting 
 specimen has been preserved in an ad- 
 mirable manner hsf a covering of gauze or 
 tiffany, and has suffered but little from 
 the iron hand ef time. The sacred de- 
 claration 
 
 I AM 
 
 THE BREAD 
 
 OF LIFE, 
 
 worked in varied colors, forms the 
 centre, and is very beautifiil. As a relic 
 of one whose name will " live to all time" 
 in the inimitable " Night Thoughts," it is 
 worthy of the aittention.^ ewry lover of 
 literature. 
 
 ®. m- ^' 
 
 SONNET. 
 [For Ae Year Book.] 
 On an Oak in the Parish op Cheshunt, said to havs been planted in 1066 
 BY Sir Theodore Godfrey, or Goffby, who came over with William t.«e 
 Conqoeror. 
 
 Gigantic time-worn Tree, what moons have fled 
 Since thou wert planted first by warlike hand ! 
 Nigh twi.ie four hundred years have swept the land ; 
 And yet, defying time, thou lift'st thy head 
 Still green, nor fear'st the storms that round have spread 
 Thy weak compeers. They scatter'd lie and rent ; 
 Ev'n as that chieflain old, whose monument 
 Thou art. In him pleas'd fancy fain would trace 
 
 A Knight of high emprize and good intent. 
 Within whose breast wrong'd orphans' woes found place, 
 
 Ever in rightful cause tlie Champion free. 
 Of his proud times the ornament and grace ; 
 
 A wight well worthy to recorded be 
 • In fairest archives of bright Chivalry.^^^^^^ ^^^^^^ 
 
1599 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER. 36. 
 
 1600 
 
 Old Travelling. 
 
 A describer of England, early in tlie 
 leign of William 111., speaks of it as 
 excelling all other nations in the conve- 
 nieiicy of coaches, but especially that of 
 stage coaclies, which he praises for their 
 commodiousness and ease, and particu- 
 larly for their expedition. He says: — 
 " Here one may be transported without 
 over-violent motion, and slieltered from 
 the injuries of the air, to tVie most noted 
 places in England, with so much speed, 
 that some of these coaches will reach 
 above fifty miles in a summer day.''* We 
 may now go in a stage nearly double that 
 distance before stopping to dine ; and on 
 a summer day, between sun-rise and sun- 
 set, a fast coach travels nearly three 
 times the distance. 
 
 Lent-Crockino. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 In some of the villages of Dorsetshire 
 andWiltshire, the boys, at Shrovetide, still 
 keep up a custom called Lent-Crocking, 
 which originated in the carnival of Roman 
 Catholic times, and consists in going , 
 round in the evening to pelt the doors of 
 the inhabitants with pieces of broken 
 crockery. 
 
 In Dorsetshire, the boys sometimes go 
 round in small . parties j and the leader 
 goes up and knocks at the door, leaving 
 his followers behind him, armed with a 
 good stock of potsherds — the collected 
 relics of the washing-pans, jugs, dishes, 
 and plates, that havj become the victims 
 of concussion in the unlucky hands of 
 careless housewives for the past year. 
 When the door is opened, the hero, who 
 is perhaps a farmer's boy, with a pair of 
 black eyes sparklidg under the tattered 
 brim of his brown milking-hat covered 
 with cow's hair and dirt like the inside of 
 a black-bird's nest, hangs down his head, 
 and, with one corner of his mouth turned 
 up into an irrepressible smile, pro- 
 nounces, in the dialect of his county, the 
 following lines : cemposed for the occasion, 
 perhaps, by some mendicant friar whose 
 name might have been suppressed with 
 the monasteries by Henry VIII. 
 
 '' I be ome a shrovin, 
 Vor a litilc panWiak, 
 
 * New State of Engliind, ISSI. 
 
 A bit 0* bread o' your biakin. 
 
 Or a little truckle cheese o' your ovn 
 
 miakin. 
 If youll gi' me a little, I'll ax no moore. 
 If you don't gi' me nolhin, I'll rottle your 
 
 door." 
 
 Sometimes he gets a piece of bread and 
 cheese : and at some houses he is told to be 
 gone, when he calls up his followers to 
 send their missiles in a rattling broadside 
 against the door. 
 
 In Wiltshire, the begging of pancake 
 and bread and cheese is omitted ; and the 
 Lent-crockers pelt the doors as a matter 
 of course. 
 
 The broken pots and dishes originally 
 signified that, as Lent was begun, those 
 cooking vessels were of no use, and were 
 supposed to he broken ; and the cessation 
 of flesh-eating is understood in the begging 
 for pancakes, and bread and cheese. 
 
 W. Barnes. 
 
 Finding and Losing. 
 Melton, in his Astrologaster, says ! 
 " That if a man, walking in the fields, 
 find any foure-leaved grasse, he shall in a 
 small while after find, some good thing." 
 The same writer tells us, " That it is 
 naught for a man or woman to lose their 
 hose-garter." As also, " That it is a sign 
 of ill lucke to finde money." This is 
 corroborated by Greene, in his Art of 
 Conny-catching : he tells us, " 'Tis ill 
 lucke to keepe found money." Therefore 
 it must be spent. 
 
 Homes, in his Dasmonologie, 1650, 
 exclaims : " How freqiient is it with 
 people, especially of the more ignorant 
 sort, which makes the things more sus- 
 pected, to think and say (as Master 
 Perkins relates,) if they find some pieces 
 of iron, it is a prediction of good luck 
 to the finders. If they find a piece 
 of silver, it is a foretoken of ill luck to 
 them." 
 
 The hon. Robert Boyle, in Reflections, 
 1665, says : " The common people of this 
 country have a tradition that 'tis a lucky 
 thing to find a horse-shoe." 
 Halves. 
 It U a popular custom to cry out 
 "halves!" on seeing a person pick up 
 any thing which he has found ; this ex- 
 clamation entitles the exclaimer to one 
 half of the value. The well-known trick 
 of ring-dropping is founded on this usage.** 
 
 * Brand. 
 
neot 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30. 
 
 1602 
 
 ANGLING-STREAM IN WINTER. 
 
 He holds a smooth blue sione. 
 
 On whose capacious surface is ouupiead 
 Large store of gleaming erimson-spottcd troute; 
 Ranged side by side, in regular ascent. 
 One after one, still lessening by degrees 
 Up to the dwarf that tops the pinnacle. 
 
 The silent creatures made 
 
 A splendid sight, together thus exposed ; 
 Dead— but not sullied or deformed by death. 
 Thai seemed to pity what he could not spare. 
 Wordiwort.h. 
 
 No. 51. 
 
 Dropping into « The Excursion I fell 
 upon the preceding lines, and recollected 
 a note or two relatiye to "Angling;' 
 remembering at the same time that, al- 
 though in December the angle gives 
 place to llie net, yet we may angle -in 
 books all the year round. 
 
 There exists a very rare and remarkable 
 work with the following title :— 
 3 F 
 
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30. 
 
 )603 
 
 " A. BooKE OF Angling or Fishing. 
 "Wherein is shewed, by conference with 
 " Scriptures, the agreement between the 
 " Fisherman, Fishes, Fishing of both 
 "natures, Temporall and Spirituall. By 
 " Samuel GARDiNiR,Z)octorq/'I)»i;inJiie. 
 "Mathew iv. 19. I will make you 
 "fishers of men- London : Printed 
 "for Thomas Purfoot, 1606, 18mo." 
 
 The next two pages after the title-leaf 
 consists of a dedication addressed " To sir 
 Henry Gaudie, sir Miles Corbet, sir 
 Hammond Le Strang, sir Henrie Spelman 
 Knights, my verie kinde friends." After 
 the leaf of dedication is a page " To the 
 Reader," and on a fourth page are " The 
 Contents ofthisBooke",\n twoLatin verses : 
 "which I deliver in English, thus: 
 
 " The Church I goueme as a ihippe. 
 Wee, seae with world compare, 
 
 The scritureB are the enclosing nettes. 
 And menthe jhhes are.*' 
 
 TJien follows the work itself in 162 
 pages divided into chapters, the titles of 
 which, because of the rarity of the book, 
 are here subjoined literally ; with the 
 number of pages occupied by each. 
 
 Chap. 1. Of the Fisherman's Ship or Boat ; 
 p. 1—12. 
 
 Chap. 2. Of the waters that are for this 
 fishing : p. 12—23. 
 
 Chap. 3. Of the nets and angle-rod that are 
 for this fishing : p. 23 — 44. 
 
 Chap. 4. Of the fishermen that principally 
 are appointed for this <^ce: p, 44 — 80. 
 
 Chap. 5. The espedall duties of the iipiritiiall 
 fisherman: ■p. 81 — 94. 
 
 Chap. 6. Of the Fisherman's bayles : p. 95 — 
 105 
 
 Chap. 7. Of the fishes that the spirituall 
 Angler or Fisherman onely fisJieth for ; p, 105 — ■ 
 118. 
 
 Chap. 8. 27*6 Sympathie of natures, of the 
 fishes of both natures: p. 119 — 146. 
 
 Chap. 9. Of the Aniipathie and differences 
 4)f fishes of both sortes, and of the anglmg of both 
 hindes : p. 147 — 162. Finis. 
 
 This book may be denominated " Fish- 
 ing Spjritualized," in proof of which, and 
 as specimens of its manner, are the sub- 
 joined extracts. 
 
 " The hooke of Paul'i angle-line strooke 
 Xlim, as thorowe the eies, and blinded 
 hiiji; with such a one did Feter take 
 Ananias and Saphira, and it cost them 
 their liues. Cain, when the hooke first 
 pricked him, by striuing with it like a 
 fishe that striueth with a hooke, more 
 wounded himselfe, till at last he yeelded, 
 leauing his wrangling, and trembled 
 
 1604 
 
 before God. So often as thou commest 
 vnto a sermon, consider how God by his 
 Preachers trowleth for thee. " p. 28. 
 
 " Peter hath left his boate, nets, and all 
 his fishing furniture for preachers to em- 
 ploy. I name them fishermen, because 
 of right that name is due vnto them, and 
 it hath beene giiien them of old. As 
 when Jeremy saith, Behold saith the Lord 
 I will send out many fishers, and they shall 
 fish them. As when Christ saith in the 
 persons of Peter and Andrew, James and 
 John, I will make you fishers of men — 
 The spirituall fishers for men, must bee 
 grounded in the knowledge of God, 
 mightie in the scriptures, of such wise- 
 dome as they may bee able to assoile any 
 intricate question, conuince all contradic- 
 tion, and to render a reason of whatsoever 
 assertion. The able fisherman indeed 
 hath a store house of implements, and 
 wanteth nothing that may serue his turne, 
 he hath two, new and old, and hath in a 
 readines to stead all his needs. If hookes, 
 lines, plummets, corkes, netts, baites, or 
 such like trinkets be not with them when 
 they are on the waters, men checke theih 
 by their trade and say vnto them, are you 
 anglers and fishermen, and have not these 
 thinges? The preacher's heart is the 
 store-house wherein he is to lay vp all the 
 furniture of his fishing occupation, which 
 is to be fraught with variety' of learning, 
 out of which, as out of a treasure (that 
 he may be the man he is taken to bee, 
 and Christ in the gospell would have it to 
 bee) he may bring thinges both new and old : 
 for otherwise, if hee be wanting to him- 
 selfe, he is subiect to the reproofe that 
 Christ gave Nicodemus. Art thou a mas- 
 ter in Israelfind knowest not these thinges." 
 p. 47. 
 
 " Every Fisher -man hath his proper 
 bay tes, "agreeable to the nature of those 
 fishes that hee trowleth or angleth for. 
 For at a bare hooke no Fish will bite. 
 The case-worme, the dewe-worme, the 
 gentile, the flye, the small Roache, and 
 suche-like, are for their turnes according 
 to the nature of the waters, and the times, 
 and the kindes of fishes. Whoso fisheth 
 not with a right bayte, shall neuer do 
 good. Wee that are spirituall fishermen, 
 haue our seuerall baites suitable to the 
 stomackes we angle for. If we obserue 
 not the natures of our auditors, and fit 
 ourselves to them, we shall not do wisely. 
 Let such as will not bee led by love bee 
 drawne by feare. But with some the 
 spirit of nieeknes will doe most, and 
 
1605 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30. 
 
 loue rather than a rodde doth more good 
 and we shall do indiscreetly, to deale 
 roughly with such. For as the water of 
 a spacious and deepe lake, being still and 
 quiet by nature, by ruffling windes is 
 moued and disquieted; so a people 
 tractable by nature, by the rough beha- 
 uiour of the Minister may be as much 
 turmoyled and altered from his nature." 
 p. 95, &c. 
 
 " The fisherman baiteth not his aooke 
 that the fish might only take it, but be 
 taken of it. The red-worme, the case- 
 worme, maggot-flies, small flie, small 
 loche, or such like, are glorious in out- 
 ward appearance to the fish. So the 
 riches, prioritie, authoritie, of the world, 
 are but pleasant bayts laid out for our 
 destruction. The fisherman's bayte is a 
 deadly deceite : so are all the pleasures 
 of the world. As all the waters of the 
 riuers runne into the salt sea, so all 
 worldly delights, in the saltish sea of sor- 
 rowes finish their course. Wherefore 
 mistrust worldly benefits as baites, and 
 . feed not upon them in hungry wise. 
 Their pleasings are leasings, and their 
 friendships fallacies. Have we lesse or 
 more, it is all one, we are never contented. 
 The smaller are a prey to the greater fish : 
 so is the poore to the Potentate ; the 
 meaner to the mightier. If there were 
 not lawes to cuibe our crooked and cruell 
 natures, each man's sword would be in 
 his fellow's bosome, and right should yeeld 
 to might ; and titles would bee tryed at 
 the pike's point: a malignant masterie 
 should manage matters among men, as it 
 duth among fishes in the element. It is 
 every way commodious to the life of the 
 fish to bee wholly in the water; but it is 
 euery way hurtful! to the soule of man to 
 be given vp -wholly to the world. The 
 water sufficeth the fishes in their appetites : 
 but when we haue whatsoeuer the world 
 can afibrd vs, wee are not contented. The 
 world rather feedeth than slacketh our 
 appetites, as oyle doth the fire. The 
 worldling riseth early, and goeth to bed 
 late, and eateth the bread of sorrowe, la- 
 bouring to labour, and caring to take care : 
 plowing vpon the rockes, and rowling the 
 stone of Sysiphus, and is never at rest. 
 Solomon gave a blowe to the worlde on 
 both cheeks, when he doubled the word 
 Vanitie upon it : and when hee it, hee 
 shewed that hee knew what hee spake : 
 and that hee would not repeale it. And 
 lonas doth not nickname them at all when 
 hee termeth all the delights of it Tysing 
 vanities. It is lehovah, onely which is 
 
 1606 
 
 his name for euer, that sufficeth vs for 
 euer. The Rabbins doe obserue that all 
 the letters in that his Name, are Litera 
 quiescentes: from whence, they expressed 
 this mysticall meaning, that all creatures 
 naue from God their rest. Hee is God 
 of all : not that those things are of that 
 nature as hee; but because of him, by 
 him, and in him, are all things. A stone 
 that is cast out of a sling, or bowe, neuer 
 restethvntillit commeth to his center; so 
 God, whose center is euery where, and 
 circumference no where, is our onely rest, 
 and without him onely infinite, Our desires 
 are neuer satisfied that are infinite. Fur 
 ther, if wee consider of men and fishes in 
 their naturall stoliditie, wee shall fiude 
 agreeable correspondencie betweene them. 
 Whereas other creatures, as well birds 
 in the ayre, as such as walke vpon the 
 ground, giue many outwarde shewes and 
 tokens of witte : onely the fish is a foolish 
 creature altogether indocible. So as by 
 the name of a fish, they vnderstood a 
 man of absolute foUie among the Egyp- 
 tians."—^. 128, &c. 
 
 This exceedingly curious volume is in 
 the possession of the Rev. Henry S. Cot- 
 ton, the local duties of whose awful office, 
 as ordinary of Newgate, restrain him from 
 a pastime in which he once delighted. 
 That gentleman's collection of " Angling 
 Books " affords me the opportunity of 
 extracting a stanza, suitable to the season, 
 from " The Tyne Fisher's Farewell to his 
 favourite stream on the approach of 
 Winter. — Newcastle: Printed for Emer- 
 son Charnley, 1824:" — 
 
 Mine own sweet stream ! thy rugged shores 
 
 Are stripped of all their vesture sheen. 
 And dark December's fury roars 
 
 Wh^re grace and loveliness have been f 
 Stream of my heart ! I cannot tread 
 
 Thy shores so bleak, so barren now ; 
 They seem as though thy joys were dead; 
 
 And cloud with care my anxious brow ! 
 
 In the same collection is a series of 
 eleven Newcastle tracts; called "The 
 Fisher's Garland," consisting of successive 
 poems, printed annually from 1821 to 
 1831, by Mr. Charnley: also, from the 
 same press, there is "The Angler's Pro- 
 gress, 1820," in six stanzas, the first of 
 which is the following :— 
 
 WTien I was a mere school-boy 
 
 (Ere yet I learned my book), 
 I felt an itch for angling 
 
 In every little brook ; 
 An osier rod, some thread for tine, 
 
 A crooked pin for hook. 
 
1607 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30. 
 
 1608 
 
 And thus equip'd'I angled 
 
 In every little brook ; 
 Where prickle-backs and minnows. 
 
 Each day I caught in store. 
 With stone-leeches and miller's thumbs — ■ 
 
 These brooks afford no more : 
 And then the little angler. 
 
 With crooked pin for hook, , 
 Would shun each noisy \rranglesr. 
 
 To fish the murm'ring brook, 
 
 A fine copy, perhaps the finest in ex- 
 istence, of the famed first edition of 
 " Walton,'" i? carefully preserved by Mr. 
 Cotton, in the original binding. 
 
 The Wren ! The Wren ! 
 
 [To Mr 
 
 . Hone,] 
 
 December 17, 1827. 
 
 ANGLING SONG. 
 
 [For the Year Book.] 
 I would seek a tlest retreat 
 
 To my mind : 
 Oh ! remove me from the great, 
 And a rural pleasant seat 
 
 Let me find. 
 In a vale pray let it be 
 
 That I love : 
 Where the blackbird ou the tree, 
 Piping forth its melody, 
 
 Fills the grove. 
 Let a limpid stream I pray 
 
 Murmur near, 
 That at eve sweet Echo may 
 Sound of village bells convey 
 
 To mine ear. 
 There I'd watch the speckled trout, 
 
 Ever shy, 
 In the water play about. 
 Or perhaps leap fairly out 
 
 At a fly. 
 Let a steeple stand in view, 
 
 Tliat should be : 
 And the poor man's cottage too, 
 'Twiil remind me what to do 
 In charity. 
 As my poultry, let the poor, 
 
 Without dread. 
 From the village cot or moor, 
 Crowd around my wicker door, 
 
 To be fed. 
 Thus my time I'd pass away 
 
 With delight; 
 Blithe as lambkins at their play, 
 Social, innocent, and gay, 
 
 Morn and night. 
 Think not this a fancied view — 
 
 You'll be wrong : 
 From a well-known spot I drew, 
 And of me you've nothing new, 
 But a song. 
 
 Sir, — ^An aged, respectable, atid du- 
 teously respected native of Middleton, in 
 Cork, has often amused and delighted me 
 with the " legendary lore" of that part 
 of Ireland. I have often heard her re- 
 late, that within her remembrance it was 
 n custom, upon St. Stephen's day, for the 
 young men of the vicinity, in their holi- 
 day attire, decorated with gay and various 
 colored ribbons in their slieves and hats, 
 and one of them carrying a furze bush 
 in which a wren was secured, to parade 
 the town and contiguous places. Stopping 
 opposite the mansions of the gentry, one 
 of the party repeated these lines : — 
 The wren, the wren, the king o£ all birds. 
 Was caught St. Stephen's day in the furze ; 
 Although he's little, his family's great. 
 Then pray, kind gentlefolks, give him a treat. 
 Instantly, in the true spirit of Irish 
 hospitality, open flew the gates ; and the 
 little " king of allbirds," entering with his 
 attendants, found the irate (as the rhyme 
 and the national accent would have it,) 
 prepared for him. Whether his aerial 
 majesty condescended to partake of the 
 good cheer spread for his welcome, I 
 have not learned ; but this is certain, his 
 gay retinue were never suffered to depart 
 till their entertainers had generously 
 proved in how high esteem the honour of 
 his gracious visit was held. 
 
 , am ignorant of the origin of Saint 
 Stephen's " Boxing Day" in Ireland, as 
 it is in England ; but the reason for the 
 Irish boys having assumed the dress of 
 the ' joyful " mummers" of May, and 
 carrying with them a wren, and in his 
 name making their claim upon the liberal, 
 was grounded on the following tradition; — 
 During one of those dreadful periods 
 when Ireland writhed in the agonies of 
 rebellion, a party of royalists, having been 
 harassed by their enemy and exposed to 
 imminent danger, insomuch that they 
 could obtain no rest for several days and 
 nights, worn out with hardships, and inces- 
 sant watchfulness, they bivouacked in 
 a secluded valley which they considered 
 a place of safety. They lay stretched 
 upon the turf in deep sleep, and even the 
 sentinel yielded to its influence. In vain 
 he strove to listen and watch for the foe ; 
 he heard the strong breathing of his 
 comrades, and sank down among them. 
 While they lay thus, as dead men, the 
 
1609 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30. 
 
 1610 
 
 ienemy, aware of their exhausted state 
 and suspecting the place of their retreat, 
 were silently bearing down upon them 
 with bloody purposes and ready weapons. 
 They were within musket-shot of their 
 intended victims, when a wren tapped 
 with its bill three times upon the drum. 
 The sound startled the sentinel ; he sprang 
 up, saw the retiring bird, and the ad- 
 vancing multitude; and alarmed his 
 sleeping comrades to arms. Rendered 
 desperate by the danger of their situ- 
 ation and the suddenness of the surprise, 
 they met the confused and disappointed 
 foes and conquered. 
 
 The custom described above, has, I am 
 informed, been for a long time discon- 
 tinued ; but surely, sir, you will afford to 
 record this exploit of St. Stephen's 
 
 day. The story is worthy remembrance 
 
 among that class of the warm-hearted 
 children of Erin, on whose strong and 
 ardent imaginations every thing of the 
 wild and wonderful makes an indelible 
 impression, and among whom the legends 
 of their fathers are retained with re- 
 ligious reverence. 
 
 "The wrenl the wren! the king of 
 all birds !" cried the youths at Middleton. 
 Perhaps, sir, if you are as little versed 
 as the generality of our countrymen in 
 the heraldry of the ifealhered tribes, you 
 will smile— a kind smile though it be— 
 to think how favors exalt the doer in the 
 estimation of the favored \ but, I do assure 
 you, the wren has other titles than those 
 which gratitude has bestowed upoi him 
 to the sovereignty of the air. He is, 
 indeed, "king of all birds" by right of 
 election. It is true, that another ex- 
 ercises the regal power ; but he is an usurp- 
 er, tyrannising in his strength and bigness. 
 The following legend will substantiate my 
 
 statement: — though my grandmother is 
 not acquainted with it, I have heard it 
 both from an Trishman and a German. 
 It is, I believe, popular among the 
 peasantry of both countries ; and to what 
 better authority can I refer you ? 
 
 At the time when the birds had deter- 
 mined on having a king, it was decided that 
 he who flew highest in the s.ir should be 
 invested with the powers and attributes 
 of majesty. The competition was wit- 
 nessed by a general assembly of the 
 tenants of air. Several candidates "start- 
 ed for the prize," among them the eagle, 
 the length and strength of whose pinions, 
 together with the majesty of his bearing, 
 bespoke him the future monarch. The 
 wren, however, determined to make up 
 by a stratagem for what he was deficient 
 in size and power, managed, though there 
 were many hawks' eyes in the assembly, 
 just as their wings were spread to begin — 
 the last heat I should suppose — ^to hop 
 unperceived upon the es^le's back. The 
 great and ambitious bird felt not the 
 weight ; but soared up, up, up, till all 
 his antagonists Iwere out-wearied, and 
 he was " out of sight" to most of the as- 
 sembly. At last he began to descend : 
 when the wren sprang from his back, and 
 stretching the utmost reaching of his 
 soul, attained to an extra elevation of 
 some consequence. He was seen by 
 some of the sharp-sighted gentlemen be- 
 low, at a greater height in the air than 
 either of the other candidates had reached ; 
 — how he got there puzzled all ; — but, 
 that he was there, none could deny ; and 
 he was, accordingly, declared and pro- 
 claimed, with all due solemnity and 
 ceremonies, " king of all birds." I re- 
 main, most respectfully, &c. W. D. K. 
 
 The Primkose. 
 Trom " Goldineham's Garden Pfot" dedicated to Queen Elizabeth— ViAtX. 
 Well may I prayse, and yette not parcyall seeme. 
 
 Where truthe (quothe he) doth boldly beare me owte, 
 Yf so I may, then must I beste esteme 
 Thys gulant flower for vertue, out of double ; 
 My Prymrose sweet ys, lo ! a true-love rare, 
 As .showes her leaves, so even thyrd whytt they are. 
 
 Mv Prymrose is the lady of the Sprynge, 
 
 The lovely flower that fyrst doth show her face ; 
 
 Whose worthy prayse the pretty byrds do syng 
 
 Whose presence sweet the wynter's colde doth chase ■ 
 She draws from house the wery wynttred wyghtes. 
 And gladdeth them wyth worldes of new delyghtes. 
 
 MS. 6902. 
 
16U 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30. 
 
 1612 
 
 Lantern and Candle-light. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 A9 a iaithec illustration of the custom 
 mentioned at p. 23, I transcribe an anec- 
 dote from "The Pleasant Conceits of 
 Old Hobson,1607." 
 
 "In the beginning of queene Eliza- 
 beth's raigne, when the hanging out lan- 
 thorne and candell-light was first.of all 
 brought up, the bedell of the warde 
 where Maister Hobson dwelt, in a dark 
 evening came crieing up and downe, 
 ' hang out your lanthornes ! hang out 
 your lanthornes !' using no other wordes ; 
 whereupon Maister Hobson tooke an 
 emptie lanthome, and, according to the 
 bedell's call, hung if out. — This flout, by 
 the Lord Mayor was taken in ill part, 
 and Hobson for the same offence was 
 sent to the Counter, but, being released, 
 the next night following the bedell, think- 
 ing to amend his call, cried out with a 
 loud voice, 'hang out your lanthornes 
 and candells I' Maister Hobson here- 
 upon hung out a lanthome and candel 
 u'nlighted, as the bedell commanded ; 
 whereupon he was sent again to the 
 Counter ; but, the next night, the bedell 
 being better advised, cryed, 'hang out 
 your lanthornes and candell-light ! hang 
 out your lanthornes and pandell-light !' 
 which Maister Hobson at last did, to his 
 great commendacions : which cry of lan- 
 thome and candell-light is in like manner 
 used to this day." 
 
 Here it may appropriately be men- 
 tioned that, till the . middle of last cen- 
 tury, the lamps in London streets were 
 "few and far betjveen;" and that, when 
 the moon shone, they were not lighted at 
 
 all. J. B n. 
 
 Staffordshire Moorlands. 
 
 h. m. 
 
 December 30. — Day breaks . 5 59 
 
 Sun rises ..86 
 
 — sets . . . 3 54 
 
 Twilight ends . 6 1 
 
 Mtttm'btv 2>\.. 
 
 31st December died the rev. Mr. Mat- 
 tinson, for upwards of sixty years curate 
 of Patterdale, in Westmoreland. The' 
 first infant he christened, after he obtained 
 orders, agreed to marry him. when she 
 was nineteen years old. He asked her 
 and himself in the church, and he had 
 by her one sou and three daughters, 
 whom he married in his own church. His 
 stipend, till within the previous twenty 
 pears, was only £12 per ann., and never 
 
 reached to £20 ; yet out of this, by the 
 help of his good wife, he brought up their 
 four children well, and died at the age 
 of eighty-three, grandfather to eighteen 
 children, and worth £1000 sterling. 
 
 Advices, and Remarks — 
 
 1. Never put off till to morrow what 
 you can do to-day. 
 
 2. Never trouble another for wnat you 
 can do yourself. 
 
 3. Nevfer spend your money before you 
 have it. 
 
 4. Never buy what .you do not want 
 because it is cheap; it will be dear to you. 
 
 5. Pride costs us more than hunger, 
 thirst, and cold. 
 
 6. We never repent of having eaten 
 too little. 
 
 7. Nothing is troublesome that we do 
 willingly. 
 
 8. How much pain have cost us the 
 evils which have never happened. 
 
 Old Stowe, the elder. 
 The following is a copy of the will of 
 Thomas Stowe, father of the celebrated 
 historian John Stowe. 
 
 " In the name of God amen, in the year 
 of our Lord God 1526, the last day of 
 December, I Thomas Stowe, citizen and 
 tallow chandler of London, in good and 
 hole mynde, thankes be to our Lord Ihu 
 make this my present testament, Fryrst I 
 bequayth my soul to Jhu Christ, and to 
 our blessed lady seynt Mary the virgin, 
 &c., my body to be buryed in the little 
 grene church yard of the parysse of seynt 
 Myghel in Cornehyll, betweene the crosse 
 and > the church wall, nigh the wall as 
 may be, by my father, and mother, systers, 
 and brothers, and also my own childrene 
 " Alsoe I bequayth to the hye aulter of 
 the foresaid church for my tythes forgeten 
 12d. Item to Ihus brotherhedde 12d. I 
 give to our lady and seynts brotherhedde 
 12d. I give to seynt Cristop.her, and seynt 
 George, 12d. Alsoe I give to the seven- 
 aulters, in the church aforeseyd, in the 
 worship of the seven sacraments, every 
 year, during iii years, 20d. Item v. sh : 
 to have on every aulter a wacching can- 
 dell, burning from vi. of the clocke till it^ 
 be past vii., in worship of vii sacraments; 
 and this candell shall begyne to burne, 
 and to be set upon the aulter, upon all- 
 haloam daye tyle it be candlemas day 
 following; and it shall bee wacching 
 candle of viii ' in the pound. Alsoe, 1 
 give to the brotherhedde of Clarks, to 
 drynke 20d. Alsoe I give to them that 
 
1613 
 
 THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 31. 
 
 i6U 
 
 shall barye rae to church, every man 4d. 
 Alsoe, I give to a pore man and woman, 
 evei-y Sunday in one yeare, Id. to say v. 
 prayers, nosters, and aves, and a credi?, 
 for my soule. Alsoe, I give to the repa- 
 rations of polls' (St. Paul's cathedral) 8d. 
 Alsoe, I will have vi. uue torches, and ii. 
 of seynt Myghel, and ii. of seynt Anne, 
 and ii. of seynt Christopher, and ii. of 
 Ihus, of the best torches. 
 
 " Alsoe, I bequayth Thomas Stowe my 
 Sonne xx. lb. in stuff of Iraushuld, as 
 here foUowith, that is to say, my grete 
 melting panne withal the instruments 
 that belongeth thereto. 
 
 "Alsoe, I bequayth my sonne Thomas 
 y\.l. xiii.s. im.d. in plate as hereafter fol- 
 lowith, that is to say, a nut of sylver and 
 gylt /iiii sh : iiiid. Item a pounced piece 
 weiing vi. ounces and more xl Item a 
 mass of pynt xxvi sh : viiid. Item a little 
 maser xiii. sh. iiiid. Item of this my 
 present testament I make Elizabeth my 
 wife mine executrix, and Thomas Stowe 
 my Sonne my overseer, and Mr. Trendal 
 as a solicitor with my sonne Thomas, 
 and he to have for his pains xsh." 
 
 This will is extracted from the ofiSce of 
 the registrar to the bishop of London. 
 
 The Last Day of the Year. 
 [To Mr. Hone.] 
 
 Str, — Although your Every-Day Book 
 and Year Book contain a great variety of 
 very interesting matter, yet I do not recol- 
 lect reading in either of them, an account 
 of a local custom with which I became 
 acquainted last New Year's Day. 
 
 On the last day of the old year, I went 
 to pay a visit to some friends at Cam- 
 bridge, and in the evening accompanied 
 them to a dance, where we tripped it 
 until long after the ringing of the various 
 church bells had announced the coming in 
 of the new year ; on our return home late 
 we retired to rest, not a little fatigued, but 
 I was disturbed about seven o'clock by 
 the well known Good Friday cry of " One 
 a penny, buns ! two a 'penny, buns ! all 
 hot !" I could scarcely believe my senses, 
 and, in fact, I rather suspected I had been 
 dreaming, and so I dropped off to sleep 
 again. At last I made my appearance at 
 the breakfast table, and there, among other 
 things provided by my kind friends, were 
 some ".buns," which brought to my re- 
 collection what I had heard in the early 
 part of the morning. Upon enquiry, I 
 was told that they were New Years' cakes 
 — that it was the custom at Cambridge to 
 have them every New Year''s day, and 
 
 that they" were always cried and sold in 
 the streets in the manner of buns on Good 
 Friday ; the only difference being that the 
 buns were not crossed. 
 
 I understand that, on Plough Monday, 
 the country folks round Cambridge were 
 in the habit of carrying ploughs through 
 the streets and raising contributions to 
 enable them to keep the afternoon as a 
 hdliday. I am, Sir, &c., 
 
 Roei;rt Meggv. 
 
 19, Blackman-street, Southwark, 
 18th March, 1831. 
 
 Parish Law. 
 
 In nine cases out of ten, people con- 
 sult attornies upon affairs which are not 
 properly matters of law, and, conse- 
 quently, derive no other advice than 
 would be given by any persons of ordi- 
 nary common-sense ■ upon such affairs of 
 business. Even upon legal matters the 
 time of the profession would be much 
 spared if a little more knowledge were 
 gained by their clients. 
 
 There are a few law books which every 
 housekeeper should possess; and, chiefly, 
 an excellent work on " Parish Law " by 
 John Steer, Esq., of Chancery Lane, 
 barrister at law. Mr. Steer's " Parish 
 Law," is a clear and satisfactory 
 compendium of the laws relating to 
 churches, ministers, churchwardens, over- 
 seers, parish-cleHcs, constables, ves- 
 tries, relief, &c. of the poor, parish and 
 county-rates, watching and lighting, and 
 all the various affairs belonging to pa- 
 rishes. To parish officers in particular, 
 to all who are qualified to serve, and in 
 general to every parishioner, this is a 
 most valuable book of reference; because 
 the law, upon every point connected with 
 parochial duties and business, is so plainly 
 stated j that the reader is enabled to come to 
 a safe decision without the trouble and 
 expence of obtaining prqfessional advice. 
 It has a very copious index, and, the 
 statutes and cases being carefully cited, 
 the required information is easily obtained, 
 and the authorities may be relied upon. 
 
 Parishes. 
 A parish is that circuit of ground com- 
 mitted to one parson, vicar, or other min- 
 ister, having cure of souls therein. The , 
 boundaries mostly depend upon imme- 
 morial custom; and hence, in most 
 places, perambulations were, and are, 
 made. In ancient times, these processions 
 were made with banners flying, hand- 
 bells, lights, and other pageantry : and 
 
1615 
 
 THE YEAU BOOK.— DECEMBER 31. 
 
 1616 
 
 certain rites were performed at particu- 
 lar places, till excesses occasioned Queen 
 Elizabeth to confine perambulations to 
 the curate and substantial parishioners. 
 Each parish is a rectory, vicarage, dona- 
 tive, or perpetual curacy. Parishioners 
 are not the inhabitants only ; for non- 
 resident occupiers of land paying paro- 
 chial rates are also parishioners.* 
 
 A Parish Clerk. 
 
 Mr. Robert Story, a living self-edu- 
 cated native of Northumberland, by dmt 
 of natural ability and persevering indus- 
 try wrote and published, at an early age, 
 a poem, called " Harvest Home ;" and 
 a few years afterwards '* CravenBlossoms." 
 Without assistance, he acquired sufficient 
 acquaintance with languages to establish 
 for himself the deserved reputation of a 
 good classical scholar, and to become the 
 master of a respectable school at Gar- 
 grave, in Yorkshire, of which village he is 
 also parish clerk. — Mr. Story says, 
 
 Leam^ next^ that I am parish clerk— 
 A noble office, by St. Mark ,' 
 It brings me in six guineas clear, 
 £cEides et ceteras, every year. 
 I waive my Sunday duty, when 
 I give the solemn deep Amen ; 
 Exalted then to breathe aloud 
 The heart-devotign of the crowd. 
 But O the fun ! when Christmas-chimes, 
 Have ushered in tljie festal times. 
 And sent the clerk and sexton round 
 To pledge their friends in draughts profound. 
 And keep on foot the good old plan. 
 As only Clerk and Sexton can ! 
 Nor less the sport, when Easter sees 
 The daisy spring to deck her leas ; 
 Then, claimed as dues by Mother Church, 
 I pluck the cackler from the perch ; 
 Or, in its place,- the shilling clasp 
 From grumbling dame's slow opening grasp. 
 But, Visitation-day ! 'tis thine 
 Best to deserve my native line. — 
 Great day ! the purest brightest gem. 
 That decks the fair years' diadem. 
 Grand day ! that sees me costless dine 
 And costless quaff the rosy wine, 
 Till seven church-wardens doubled seem, 
 And doubled every taper'a gleam. 
 And I — triumphant over time, 
 And over tune, and over rhyme — 
 Call'd by tlie gay, convivial throng. 
 Lead, in full glee, the choral song ! 
 
 The preceding lines are in " The 
 Magic Fountain and other poems," a 
 volume by Mr. Story in 1829, which 
 likewise contains the following poem — 
 extracted here as applicable to the season. 
 
 * Steer's Parish Law . 
 
 Another Year. 
 
 Another Year, another year, 
 O ! who shall see another year 1 
 — Shalt thou, old man of hoary head. 
 Of eye-sight dim, and feeble tread 1 
 Expect it not ! Time, pain, and grief. 
 Have made thee like an autumn leaf. 
 Ready, by blast or self -decay. 
 From its slight hold to drop away — 
 And some sad morn may gild thy bier 
 Long, long before another year ! 
 
 Another year, another year, 
 O ! who shall see another year 1 
 — Shall you, ye young ? or you ye fair 1 
 Ah ! the presumptuous thought forbear ! 
 Within this church-yard^s peaceful bounds — ^ 
 Come, pause and pontes o'er the mounds ! 
 Here beauty sleeps — that verdant length 
 Of grave contains what once was strength, — 
 The child — the boy — the man are here : 
 Ye may not see another year ! 
 
 Another year, another ye'j, ' 
 O ! who shall see another.year 1 
 — Shall /, whose burning thirst of fan. s 
 No earthly power can quench ox tame 1 
 Alas ! that burning thirst may soon 
 Be er, and all beneatn the moon—- 
 All my fine visions, fancy -wrought, 
 And all this vortex whirl of thought — 
 Fb' ever cease and disappear. 
 Ere dawns on earth another year ! 
 
 h, m. 
 
 December 31. — Daybreaks. . 5 59 
 
 Sun rises ..85 
 
 — sett , 3 55 
 
 Twilight ends. 6 1 
 
 Mr. Edwin Lees' " Christmas, and the 
 New Year," concludes with this, 
 
 Scene. 
 The clock strikes twelve, and the Old 
 Year dies. Boys raise his body on a 
 bier, and maidens sing the following — 
 
 UBixqe. 
 
 Bring the last December rose. 
 Frosted o'er with wintry snows j 
 Let the fading petals fall 
 O'er the Year's funereal pall. 
 
 From the wood some oak leaves bring 
 That were green in early spring ; 
 Scatter them about the bier 
 Of the now departing Year. 
 
 Let the bells upon their wheels. 
 While our fond ideas veer. 
 Ring the solemn midnight peals, 
 LingVing for the dying Year. 
 
 Haik ! the peal has ceased to roll j 
 Silence reigns ; hut now a toll 
 Breaks upon the startled ear, — . 
 Gone for ever is the Year ! 
 
 THE ET^D. 
 
L. GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 A. B. C. Sec., Alphabet for Beginners, 1416. 
 
 Abelard and Eloisa, their tomb, &c., 495. 
 
 Account keeping, use of, 192. 
 
 Acre, the landlord's, 1552. 
 
 Adam and Eve, tea gardens, 47, 317, 318. 
 
 Addison, leader in a barring-out, 1307. 
 
 Aders, Mr. C, on his Paintings by old xnas- 
 
 ters, 355 
 Advent in Normandy. 1431. 
 Advertisements, curious, 726,730, 880, 1047, 
 
 1096, 1381. 
 Advice, to a son, 1195 j for public conduct, 
 1170; on the edge of the grave, 1100; 
 how to give and take, 192; general, 1612. 
 Age, 187. 
 
 Aikman, W., artist, 693. 
 Aitken, John, Jack the Painter, 449. 
 Alarm at the last service in St. Michael's, 
 
 Crooked-lane, 484. 
 Albemarle, duke of, curious account of his sea 
 battle with Van Tromp, 649. 
 
 earl of, his death dreamed of, 1486. 
 
 Alchemists and Alchemy, 32, 141, 228. 
 Alchemy and Chemistry, 189. 
 Alder tree, a remarkable, 431. 
 Alderman, lines to an, 1338. 
 All Fool's Day, origin of, 402. 
 All Saints, AU Hallows, '1288. 
 
 ' College, Maidstone, 373. 
 
 All Souls, 1306. 
 
 College, Oxford, 88. 
 
 Allan, James, the Northumberland piper, 
 
 1348, 1373. 
 Alliterative advertisement, 1096. 
 Almanac makers, 117. 
 
 Almanacs, old, their absurdities, prices, &c. 
 1364. 
 
 clog, 87. 
 
 Almond-tree and bees, 407. 
 
 Alms-houses, old, 596. 
 
 American Indian chiefs, in England, 487. 
 
 Ancient Yew-tree at Windlesham, 738. 
 
 Ancients, 42. 
 
 Ancre, Marshal "d", his wife executed fop a 
 
 witch, 1566. 
 Anderson, Dr., Patrick, 123. 
 Andrews, Dr., Dean of Canterbury, anecdote, 
 921. 
 
 of Royston, almanafi-maker, 118. 
 
 Anecdotes, first English collection of, 508. 
 Angels singing, 228. 
 
 Angling, fish-hooks, the best, 307 ; Rev. H. 
 S. Cotton's curious angling book described, 
 1601. 
 
 Song, 1607. 
 
 Anglo-Saxon art, 43. 
 
 Animalcnlae of frost, 184. 
 
 Anne's, queen, farthings, 1072. 
 
 Another Year, 1615. 
 
 Answering letters, 255. 
 
 Apelles, 42. 
 
 Apothecaries' Garden, Chelsea,73. 
 
 Appetites and pursuits, 187 ; indulgence, 
 
 519. 
 Apple Florentine, 1596. 
 April Fool-day, 397 ; verses, 398. 
 
 shower, 497. 
 
 Apropos of rain, 222. 
 
 Arbuthnot, Dr. John, 248. 
 
 Arch, coronation of James I., 1057. 
 
 Argyle, duke of, his tailor, 710. 
 
 Armorial escutcheon at Croydon palace, 723. 
 
 Armour worn by seijeants-at-law, 126. 
 
 Arms, royal, 1323. 
 
 Arthur's round table, 161. 
 
 Artist's Card, an, vignette upon, 1441. 
 
 Arundel, eari of, temp, Henry YIII., 60. 
 
 Ascot-heath, 1309. 
 
 Ash Wednesday, 153. 
 
 Aspects, 10. 
 
 Ass story, 19U 
 
 Assumption day, court ceremonies, 24, 
 
 Atkinson, Paul, imprisoned in Hurst castle, 
 
 . 1194. 
 
 Attomies, limited by act of parliament, 126. 
 
 Aurora borealis, 29, 300. 
 
 Austin, his landing place, 1522. 
 
 Autumn^haracteriseG, 1283. 
 
 —evenings, 1027, 1144, 1164. 
 
 close of, 1284. 
 
 gale! a song, 1159. 
 
 departure of exiles in, 1076. 
 
 Ayleston, Leicester, exemplary minister, 923. 
 
 Babies in the eyes, 896. 
 Bacon, Roger, epistle of, 427. 
 Bagshot, manor, Surrey, 738, 739. 
 Bailey, Mr., manager of the Norwich com- 
 pany, compiler of a Directory, 15S9. 
 Baker's, Mrs,, comedians, 1535. 
 Ballard, old bookseller, 1133. 
 Balloon Ascent, Gamerin and Sowden, 759. 
 Balls, mother, 1479. 
 Band, clerical, and falling, 170. 
 Bandy-ball, 1447. 
 Banff Superstitions, 1356. 
 Bank of England, 1418. 
 Bannockbum, battle of, 740. 
 Barbers, Cambridge, 1507, last Windsor. 
 
 bason, 754. 
 
 Bargains in witch-making, 1562. 
 Barlow, maker of repealing watches, 314. 
 3G 
 
1619 
 
 THE GENP.RAL INDEX. 
 
 ,1620 
 
 Karnes church, Surrey, 1204. 
 
 Barons, their usurpations, 179. 
 
 Barring-out at school, 1306. 
 
 BarlholAmew fair, curious tract, 984. 
 
 Basing-house, Hants,, siege of, 1185. 
 
 .Baskerville, Thomas, traveller, 499. 
 
 Batchelorising, 358. 
 
 Bath prophecy and solution, 382. 
 
 Baxter, W., linguist and antiquary, 639. 
 
 Bay-tree, repels thunder, 1551. 
 
 Itaynards, Surrey, account of, 920. 
 
 Bear the bell, 1097. 
 
 Becket, Archbishop, outwitted, 176 ; death of, 
 
 806. 
 Beckford, aid., penury and profusion of, 189. 
 Bed, going to, rule on, 128 ; charm, 1472. 
 
 straw, ladies, 814. 
 
 Beef to be stolen, 253. 
 
 Beer-flip, 62. 
 
 Bees, best method of ordering, 260, 407. 
 
 Bell, the, a prize for horse-racing, 1097. 
 
 Bell of Arragon, by Collins, 718. 
 
 Bells, at Worcester, &c., 452, 1488. 
 
 lioquacious, 453. 
 
 music of, 227, 547. 
 
 Beltan, or Beltein fires, 871, &c., 1680. 
 
 Ben Tyrrell's pies for the assizes, 267. 
 
 Bended bow, the, 1523. 
 
 Berghem and Both, painters, 1443. 
 
 Berkley castle, Gloucester, Edward 11^ mu-r 
 
 dered, 1116. 
 Bermudas, emigrants for conscience "^ke, 
 
 1207. 
 Bernard, father, 110. 
 
 S., French financier, 96, 
 
 Bernard!, J., state prisoner forty years, 1117. 
 Berners, Lord, translator of Froissart, 1161. 
 Beryl for conjuring spirits, 1559. 
 Betiey, Staff., window there, 526. 
 Betrothing customs, 1050. 
 Bible and key, a divination, 254. 
 BickerstafTe, rev. W., philanthropist, 923. 
 Bigg, John, the Sinton liermit, 499. 
 Bigotry and told^ance, 826. 
 'Billet sawing, 75. 
 Bindley, Mr., book-collector, 443. 
 Birchingtos church, Kent, 1455. 
 Birding, 1030. 
 
 Birdmeadow, Walter of the, 290., 
 Bird-month, 536. 
 
 song, 1114. 
 
 Birds of passage, 282 ; high flight, 414. 
 ■ flown in honor of the French king, 
 
 1256. 
 
 eggs hung-up, unlucky, 253. 
 
 Birmingham, old coaches, 1048 ; glass vase, 
 
 994. 
 Bishop, a drink, 1 14. 
 
 in the pan, 115. 
 
 — and his clerks, 1224. 
 
 Black's the white of ^my eye, 890. 
 
 Blackbird, the, to rear) 748. 
 
 Blackwall, plough tavern, in winter, 226. 
 
 • prince of misrule at, 350. 
 
 Blandy; miss, poisons her father with love 
 powder,. 1440. 
 
 Blase, bishop, 1202. 
 
 Bleeding, gratis, 731. 
 
 of the murdered, 1180, 1183. 
 
 Blencowe, W., decyphercr, 779. 
 
 sir John, judge, ibid. 
 
 Blindness, 250, 617 ; Milton's, 1142. 
 
 Blood-lettng at spring and fall, 1257. 
 
 Bloomsbury church steeple, 1311. 
 
 Blunham, Beds., wheat-sowing custom and 
 gooding. 1596. 
 
 Boar's-head song, 1499 ; ancient carol, 1503. 
 
 tavern, Eastcheap, 1421. 
 
 Bohemia, expulsion of the Baptists from, 
 1073. 
 
 Bois de Boulogne, May trees, 528. 
 
 Boleyne's, Anne, Lament, 1231, 
 
 Bolton Abbey, Yorkshire, 1211. 
 
 Bonner, bishop, 1042. 
 
 Bonnivard, de, patriot of Cliillon, 419. 
 
 Books, licensing, 66. 
 
 Booksellers, old, 682 : of Little Britain, 
 1133. 
 
 Boots, Oxford D.D. made in 114. 
 
 Border-gathering, a, 1373. 
 
 Bothwell, earl, kills sir W. Stewart, 893. , 
 
 Bottle, great, 95. 
 
 conjurer, 93, 829. 
 
 Bowman, Robert, of Irthing, in Carlisle, long 
 
 liver, 723. 
 Boxley, Kent, visit to, 624 ; abbey, 239. 
 Boy of Egremond, 1212. 
 Bradbury, rev., Thomas, dissenter, 1065. 
 Braithwiate, rev. Mr., of Carlisle, lone liver. 
 
 1485. 
 Branston- and Wright's wood-engravings, 64, 
 
 1036. 
 Bread-making charm, 1549, 
 Bridal colors, 1054. 
 Bridhurat, Kent, 628. 
 Briefs, 764. 
 
 Briony, used in witchcraft, 1567. 
 Brighton character, 209. 
 Bristol, 298 ; Black John of, 21*. 
 British Museum, 73, 1437. 
 Britton, T,, musical small-c jal man, 1 084. 
 Bromfield, Camb., shrove-tide sports, l£2. 
 Bromley, Kent, James II. proclaimed at, 169. 
 Brown, Tom, 247. 
 
 of Bland's regiment, 'i'26. 
 
 Betty, a drink, 267. 
 
 Brownies, 1531. 
 
 Bruce Castle, Tottenham, 111. 
 
 Buccleugh, bloody hall of, 790. 
 
 Buckestone's pound, 1205. 
 
 Buckingham, witty duke of, 1148. 
 
 Bullfinch, the, to rear, 218. 
 
 Bungay, friar, 427. 
 
 Bunyan, John, preacher, of Elstow, 977. 
 
 Burgoyne, Sir Roger, lands bequeathed to, 
 
 1598. 
 Burns, R., his snuff-box, 630 ; tavern, 1121. 
 Busby, Dr. R., schoolmaster, 434. 
 Business-letter, 203. 
 Butter charms, 1550, 1553. 
 
 of witches, 1563. 
 
 Buz., 1515. 
 
1621 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 1622 
 
 Byron's dcath-pl&cc at Missclcmghi, 1474. 
 farewell to T. Moore, latinized, 1476. 
 
 Cade, Jack, beheads the lawyers, 136. 
 
 Calais, ships furnished at the siege of, 1229. 
 
 Calmer, M., a Jew presents to a living, 1313. 
 
 Calstock Church-yard, Cornwall, epitaph, 834. 
 
 Camberwell, trees at, 433— eflSgy at, 914. 
 
 Cambridge, 365 ; bookseller, 683 ; barbers, 
 1507 ; custom, 1613 ; mayor of Cambridge 
 proclaims Stourbridge fair, 1546. 
 
 Camden, W., 536. 
 
 Candlemas Say, 34, 139. 
 
 Canning's tomb at Bristol, 398 ; ships, 1338. 
 
 Canons, Middlesex, account of, 933. 
 
 Canterbury cathedral, 43 ; ancient mulberry 
 tree, 921. 
 
 Cardinal, a drink, 116. 
 
 Carew, T., poet, 314, 
 
 Carey, Harry, dramatist, 1163. 
 
 Carnation and insects, 780. 
 
 Carnival, 49. 
 
 Carrera, chess-player, vision of, 561 
 
 Carter, Mr., bookseller, &c., Bxeter, 1469. 
 
 Carving, 1368, 
 
 Castles described, 177. 
 
 Cascades in summer, 901 . 
 
 Catacombs of Paris, 436. 
 
 Cats mewing and coughing, 253. 
 
 Cattle, charms against bewitching them, 378. 
 
 Caxton apprenticed, 1337 ; hi: Book of Chess, 
 666, 583. 
 
 Celtic worship, 870. 
 
 Chain-links of pot in chimoey, to charm, 
 1553. 
 
 Chairs, 143, 145, 253, 1364. 
 
 Chancellor's mace stolen, 395. 
 
 Chancery -suit for a tobacco-box, 1575. 
 
 Chandos, great duke of, 923. 
 
 Cfaappel, John, clerk of Morley, 181 
 
 Characters in almanacs, 9. 
 
 of four nations, 1389. 
 
 Characts, 1586. 
 
 Charades, riddles, &c., 438. 
 
 Charity, 128 ; and wealth, 933. 
 
 Charles I., divination by, 1453 ; his death 
 132, 
 
 II. revels, 49 ; bis death, 169 ; pro- 
 fligacy of his court, 160, 164 ; witty dia- 
 logue with Rochester, 167 ; bis character, 
 168 ; dress, 173 ; dogs, 174 ; sings with 
 D'Crfey, 246 ; purchases Oliver's pictures 
 of his widow for an annuity, and stops it, 
 555 ; patronizes Gibbon the sculptor, 908. 
 
 v., emperor, at Winchester, 163. 
 
 Lewis, prince, of Bohemia, 1078. 
 
 Charlton church, Kent, 1137. 
 
 Charms, 216, 377, 1549, 1586. 
 
 Charter-house, 1463 ; allowances, 1464. 
 
 Cheeks burning, a sign, 253. 
 
 Chelsea, Botanic Garden, 73, 
 
 Cheltenham conjurer, 830. 
 
 Chemistry, historical article on, 189. 
 
 Cheny-pasties, 1303. 
 
 Chertsey, Surrey, and its farthing, 1071. 
 
 Chesbunt, Herts,, old oak, 1598. 
 
 Chess-play, players, and authors, 371, 559 
 to 594. 
 
 Chester stage to London, old, 368. 
 
 Chethsm, Humphrey, 79. 
 
 Chichester^ earUiquake at, 1444. 
 
 Child reading, and children^ 235. 
 
 Childhood and manhood, 353. 
 
 Children, our likeness to, 498 ; their medita- 
 tions, 903 ; are near to nature, 1443 ; what 
 if they do not cry when christened, 353. 
 kk the wood, 63, 
 
 Chillon, castle of, and its prisoner, 417. 
 Chinese tea-man's shop-bill, 1583. 
 
 Chiromaney, 1519. 
 
 Chouans, origin of the term, 183. 
 
 Christ's birth day, time of, disputed, 1511. 
 
 Christening, sumptuous, 278 ; charms, 613 ; 
 a mock-christening, 1544. 
 
 Christian IT. of Denmark, revels and intoxi- 
 cates with James I., 831. 
 
 Christianity, 1073. 
 
 Christmas customs, merriments, and other 
 usages, verses, &c., 36, 55, 137, 1110, 
 1412, 1459, 1461, 1493, 1495, 1496, 1596. 
 wolves, 1510. 
 
 Chrystal for conjuring spirits, 1560. 
 
 Churches, cost of, built by Wren, 245. 
 
 Gdum, shouting the, 1065. 
 
 Clarges Street, building of, 1164. 
 
 Clay, Hercules, of Newark, 301. 
 
 Clem«nt, St., festival of batters, 1386. 
 
 Clock, a curious, 956. 
 
 Clophill, Bedfordshire, 783. 
 
 Cock's stride, 224. 
 
 Cock-fighting challenge, alarming, 384. 
 
 Coffin, use of a bit of, 353. 
 
 Coin, bent, in a purse, 353. 
 
 Coke upon Littleton, verses, 1181, 
 
 Cold, 75 ; feet and heart, 138. 
 
 Cole, Rev. W., his MSS., 869. 
 
 Collins, William, poet, 713. 
 
 Collop Monday, l.'iO. 
 
 Colt, a charm for healing, 1549. 
 
 Combe Abbey, Warwickshire, pictures there, 
 
 1079. 
 Come to me, my Love ! 1376. 
 Commons, house of, order excluding lawyers, 
 
 136 ; the speaker rebuked, 316 ; members' 
 
 fees, 504, 755. 
 Complaint, a strange, 364. 
 Conjugal felicity, 1055. ' 
 Conjurers, 1557. 
 
 Conscience, 1065 ; righU of, 1074. 
 Contented man's morice, 852. 
 Contentment, 686, 1064. 
 Convivial sayings, 1514. 
 Cooke, Henry, profligate artist, 1371. 
 Corns, to cure, by sympathy, 233, 
 Cornish Midsummer fires, 1580. 
 Cornwall, last earl and countess of, 1230. 
 Coronation stone, 1434. ; 
 
 Corpse-candles, 1279. i 
 
 Cotton, rev. Henry S., his angling books, 
 
 1606. 
 
1623 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 1624 
 
 Covington, lord of session, Edinburgh, 699. 
 Counting hobnails, cutting sticks, &c., in the 
 
 Exchequer, 1150. 
 Country life and manners, 105, 120, 634, 
 
 654, 940, 1318 ; fairs, 1172. 
 Courteuey, Abp,, his tomb, 374. 
 Cowper, his walks at Olney, 1489. 
 
 earl, lord high chancellor, 1181. 
 
 Cows, charms for, 1550, 1553. 
 
 Cradles, 401. 
 
 Cranes, 19, 1157. 
 
 Creation of ihc sun and moon, 768. 
 
 Creeling, 1051. 
 
 Cromwell, O., petition to, and answer, 891. 
 
 — ' , Richard, compliment to, 1181. 
 
 Crosby Hall, prince of misrule at, 347. 
 Crow, defeats a hawk, 534 ; a mock cantata, 
 
 1554. 
 Crown jewels temp. Charles I, sold, 855. 
 Croydon-palace, 722. 
 Cuckows, 516. 
 Cudgels, 1525. 
 
 Cumberland, Christmasn i, 1493. 
 Cunning men, 425. 
 Cups, 36. 
 
 Curiosities, unheard of, 491, 1432. 
 Curtis, W., botanist, account of, 785. 
 Custom, the oldest, 11. 
 C- .1, W. lines by S. H. S. to, 998. 
 Czaitoryska, princess, 145. 
 
 Daisies, 760. 
 
 Dance on the Green, 1118. 
 
 Dancing, village, 1086, 
 
 Dapifer, 19. 
 
 Davenant, 16. 
 
 David's, St., Day, 265, 1592. 
 
 Days, lucky, &c., 612 ; names of, 1382. 
 
 Decyphering, 779. 
 
 Dead body, to prevent dreaming of one, 253. 
 
 Death, preservations from, 1081, 1398, 1455, 
 
 watch, 824. 
 
 Dee, Dr., his stone for consulting spirits, 1560. 
 
 De Foe, Daniel, account of, 505 . 
 
 De la Motte, W. A., of Sandhurst, artist, 
 
 vignette of his card, 1442. 
 De la Place, M„ schoolmaster, 501. 
 Deptford, Kent, 1135. 
 Derby, carl of, died of supposed witchcraft, 
 
 1566. 
 Desaguliers, Dr. J. T., natural philosopher, 
 
 251. 
 Dettingen, a soldier's exploit, 726. 
 Devil's seat at Yarmouth, 254. 
 Dey of Algiers assassinated, 1452. 
 Dictionary, anecdotes of Johnson's, 1045. 
 Didsbury Wakes, Lane, 958. 
 Disenchantment of a sorcerer, 1567. 
 DiBtaff-spiuning, 1313. 
 
 's, St., day, 57. 
 
 Diversions at court, temp. Charles II., 888. 
 Divination, several species of, 1518. 
 Divining Rod, 1687. 
 Dobson, W., painter, aecount of, 910. 
 Doctor, a drink, 114, 
 
 Doddridge, judge, 1317, 
 
 Doggerell inscription near Potton, 1597 
 
 Dogs howling, a foreboding, 252. 
 
 liole-bread on All-hallows day, 1288. 
 
 Don, a pointer, 1249, 
 
 — ,— Saltero's Museum, Chelsea, 1439. 
 
 Dore, Mary, parochial witch of Beaulieu, 
 1567. 
 
 Dorking church, Surrey, 545. 
 
 Dorriugton Play-garths, Line, 984. 
 
 Dorsetshire customs, 1172. 
 
 Dowie's Tavern, Edinburgh, 1121. 
 
 Dream, a, realized, 1486. 
 
 Dress, 120, 121 ; extravagance in, 685. 
 
 in England, temp. Eliz., 92, 362 ; 
 
 James I., 379 ; Charles II., 169; W. and 
 Mary, 457 j Anne, 475 ; George I., 710. 
 
 Drumlanrig castle, 791. 
 
 Drinking, 114, 168 ; customs in Edinburgh, 
 1121 to 1132 ; excessive, 1406; fatal ef- 
 fects of, 1225. 
 
 Song, 1132 ; vessels, 36. 
 
 Drunkards in Chancery, 1225. 
 
 Dublin, muni&cent benefactions to, 268.' 
 
 Duel, Jeffery Hudson's, 17 ; D'Urfey and , 
 Belle's, 247; Lord Mohun's, 1355. 
 
 Dumb creation, a word for the, 619. 
 
 Dundas, lord president, 704. 
 
 Dunstan, lady, relict of Sir Jeffery, 1322. 
 
 D'Urfey, Tom, 246. 
 
 Dwarfs, 18, 65, 1477. 
 
 Dyer, sen. and jun., booksellers, Exeter^ 1469. 
 
 Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, Pollok's birth- 
 place, 1090. 
 
 Ear-rings worn by men, 1088. 
 
 Ears tingling, a sign, 252. 
 
 Earthquakes in Sussex, &c., 1444 ; Radnor- 
 shire, 118 ; Syria 951. 
 
 Eastcheap, Roman remains found near, 879. 
 
 Easter, 360 ; Monday, 361. 
 
 East Hempstead, Berks, manorial custom. 
 
 India Company, origin of the, 1227. 
 
 Eclipses in 1652, 609. 
 
 Economy, 1611. 
 
 and epicurism, 197. 
 
 Edgar, John, remarkable deliverance, 541. 
 
 Edinburgh, king's birth-day celebration, 663 ; 
 fatal rencontre, 893 ; lords of Session, 
 699 ; Lamiters, 1047 ; golf match with the 
 duke of York, 1448 ; fuddling, 1046 ; old 
 taverns and their customers, 1121 ; 
 drunken lawyers, 1124 ; old houses, 123 ; 
 Queensberry house, 791 ; booths, 1160 ; 
 goldsmiths, 1151 ; an old M. P. mode of 
 lodging his family, ibid ; old houses in the 
 West Bow, 1369 ; W, Geikie, artist, 865 ; 
 &c. 
 
 Editorship, 480. 
 
 Edmund, St., king and martyr, 1382. 
 
 Education, early mode of, 984. 
 
 Edward the confessor's arms, 99. 
 
 ■ — II. murdered, 1116. 
 
 Egelsbam, Wells, printer and author, 684. 
 
1625 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEXX 
 
 1626 
 
 Egg-dance at Utrecht fair, 961. 
 flip, posset, 62. 
 
 Egglesfieid, founder, Queen's college, Oxford, 
 685. 
 
 Eight years, a remembrance of, 1461. 
 
 Elephant exhibition, 968, 
 
 Elf-shots, 1534. 
 
 Elizabeth, queen, coronation, 91 ; visited by 
 a prince of misrule, 351 ; at Waustead 
 May games, 527 ; death, 361 ; supposed to 
 have been bewitched, 1566 j curious por- 
 trait of, 364. 
 
 , queen of Bohemia, 1074. 
 
 . princess of Bohemia, 1078, 
 
 Elstow church, Bedfords., 975. 
 
 fair, flies at, 1595, 
 
 Eltham, walk to, 63, 
 
 Embracing, 1118, 
 
 Enchanters, 1558, 
 
 English, the, character of, 1357 
 
 Engravings of animals, 1037. 
 
 Enoch, book of, 75. 
 
 Ephemcron, the, 1097, 
 
 Epiphany, 43. 
 
 Epitaphs, £23, 916, 1132, 1403, 
 
 Erasmus, 1266. 
 
 Eton Montem, accounts of, 598 to 608 ; king's 
 birth-day fete, 668 ; election Saturday, 
 894 ; shrove Monday, 147 ; eccentric 
 laureate, 1345. 
 
 Evans, a harper, temp. Charles II. 165. 
 
 Evelyn, J., his tomb and inscription, 944 : 
 his diary preserved, 1343. 
 
 R. his seat in Surrey, 929, 
 
 Evergreens,-228. 
 
 Every- day lesson, 633, 
 
 Evil speaking, 1374. 
 
 Eugene, prince, 453, 
 
 Example, ^Dod and ill, 191. 
 
 Exchange, royal, gates shut, 122. 
 
 Exercise and recreation, 1403. 
 
 Exeter custom, 636 ; William III. stays there 
 on landing, 1316 j countess Weir, 1353 ; 
 manners, &c., fifty years ago, 1465, 
 
 Extravagance reproved, 244. 
 
 Eye-itching, a sign, 252, 
 
 Face -painting, 170. 
 
 Facers, 1131. 
 
 Fairies, 1526 to 1536 ; charms against, 1553, 
 
 Fairy-rings, 1534, 
 
 Falconry of the French king, 1234. 
 
 Familiars, imps, &c., 1562, 
 
 Fandango, a Spanish dance, 835. 
 
 Farthing-loaf day at Kidderminster, 745. 
 
 Farthings, 1072. 
 
 Fico, the, 1086. 
 
 Fig-tree, planted by cardinal Pope, 918, 
 
 Fillan's (St.) Bell, 1488. 
 
 Finding and losing, 1600, 
 
 Finiguerra's Pax, 321. 
 
 Fire-engines, 1000, 
 
 Fish, huge, 1001 ; occult virtues of, 1433. 
 
 Fishing spiritualized, 1603. 
 
 Fitzosboinc, William, 19. 
 
 Fitzwilliam, lord, bequest to Cambridge, 165. 
 
 Flagellation, 806. 
 
 Flaxman's chessmen, 559, 591, &c. 
 
 Fleet marriages, 596. ^ 
 
 Flips, 61. 
 
 Flitton, Bedf., poem and topographical notes, 
 
 947. 
 Flockhart's, Mrs., tavern, Edinburgh, 1126. 
 Flowers, 759. 
 Flying Dutchman, 953. 
 
 : — witches, 1564.- 
 
 Fools, 65 ; of the morris-dance, 849. 
 
 Foote, Samnel, 95. 
 
 Fobbing parsonage, Essex, 199, 
 
 Fonthill abbey burnt, 189. 
 
 Form and formality, 191, 
 
 Fortune tellers, 1560, 
 
 Fountayne, rev. John, schoolmaster, 501* 
 
 Fox, right hon. C. J., 1182. 
 
 hunting, first day of, 1206. 
 
 Frampton, W. T., sportsman, 610, 1244. 
 
 Fransham, John, mathematician, Norwich, 
 1289. 
 
 Frank, Dr. Johnson's man, 1044. 
 
 Franklin, Dr. Benj., one of his tricks, 477. 
 
 Frederic, king of Bohemia, 1074, 1077. 
 
 Henry, prince of Bohemia, 1078, 
 
 Froissart's Chronicle, 1161. 
 
 Frost, animalculse in, 184. 
 
 Frosty weather, a walk in, 106, , 
 
 Fuller, Will, impostor, 734. 
 
 Funeral customs, 858. 
 
 of an eccentric farmer, 155. 
 
 Gainsborough, 694. 
 
 Garden, its uses, 520. 
 
 Gardenstone, lord of Session, Edinbui'gh, 703. 
 
 Gardiner, D. D., Samuel, description of his 
 rare " Booke of Angling 1606," 1603. 
 
 Gargrave, Yorks., poet and parish-clejtk, 1614. 
 
 Garlands, 709, 1204. 
 
 Gassendi's adventure with a sorcerer, 1567. 
 
 Gay, J., at Edinburgh, 796. 
 
 George I., his economy, 189 ; death, 710. 
 
 II., his statue at Greenwich, 1491. 
 
 III., birth-day, 663 ; sayings of, 
 
 701 ; death, 120. 
 
 IV. patronage of an old woman, 212. 
 
 German masters, 355." 
 
 watch-songs, 655. 
 
 Ghost story, 102. 
 
 Gibbon, verses written in his history, 1182. 
 
 — Grinlin, sculptor, account of, 908. 
 
 Gibson, Richard, martyr, 1043. 
 
 Gypsies, 1480, 1561 ; funeral, 915. 
 
 Gluttony, 310. 
 
 Goat, he, at the mast-head, a charm, 1553. 
 
 God, 1446. 
 
 Goldfinch, the, to rear, 1112. 
 
 Golf, 1447. 
 
 Gcod Friday, 355. 
 
 Good-taan's croft, the, 1652. 
 
 — — sense, 128 ; living, 776 , life, 1170. 
 
 Goose, 1147. 
 
 GraccchuTch-strcet, coronation arrh in, 1057. 
 
 Graham, George, watchmaker, 314. 
 
1627 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 1628 
 
 Grass, strewed in cburcheSj 596. 
 
 Gray's Inn, revels, 49, 327 to 352. 
 
 Grenadiprs, 761. 
 
 Gr^m porter, 25, 49, 60, 557. 
 
 Grotto in a London cellar, 193. 
 
 Guildford, lord keeper, 377. 
 
 G>v!nnett, R., 473. 
 
 Haarlem, 688 ; organ, 689. 
 
 Hackney-marsh mill, for boring cannon, 307. 
 
 Hagbut, harquebuse, 1030. 
 
 Hailes, lord of sessionj Edinburgb, 703. 
 
 Hair, 169 j hair-cutting puffs, 1508. 
 
 Hairy people, what born to, 252. 
 
 Hale, sir M,, his rules, 1497. 
 
 Half-holiday, a, in Kent, 1134. 
 
 penny, 1072. 
 
 Halters, collection of, 505. 
 
 Halves, 1600. 
 
 Hamper, William, antiquary, 1378. 
 
 Hampstead, private weddings at Sion chapel, 
 
 1049. 
 ^— — — road, 47. 
 Handel, anecdote of, 501. 
 Hand-fasting, 1050. 
 Handsel, 954, 1526. 
 Hand-wheel spinning, 1329. 
 Hanging judge, the, 614, 
 Harness, armour, 127. 
 Harrington's, sir John, New years' gift, 21. 
 Harris, organ-builder, 180. 
 Harrop, Joseph, bookseller, Manchester, 683. 
 Harvest-home supper, &c., 1065, 1069, 1172, 
 
 1595. 
 Hassel, Phebe, " a jolly old fellow," 209. 
 Hastings, Warren, his presents to the queen, 
 
 401. 
 Hats, 1386 ; ladies', 169, 171. 
 Haunted houses, 1559. 
 Hawkins, sir John, 1206. 
 Hawks and hawking, 275, 534, 609, 1233, 
 
 1246. 
 Hawthorn cultivation, 534. 
 Hay-making, 1172. 
 
 Hazlitt, William, notice of him, and his me- 
 moirs by his sou, 1102. 
 Health in old age, 1261. 
 Hearne, Thomas, antiquary, 705, 1581. 
 Heart-breakers, 170. 
 of Mid Lothian, fascination of the 
 
 work, 225. 
 Helmets to funeral effigies, 914. 
 Henry II. outwits Becket, 176 ; flagellat«d, 
 
 806. 
 
 v., his cradle, 401. 
 
 VII., his coronation proces8ions,12,74. 
 
 VIII., licenses learned clerks to see 
 
 and command spirits and build churches, 
 
 425 ; died, 120. 
 Henry, prince, son of James I., 15. 
 ■ — IV, of France flagellated by proxy, 
 
 80". 
 Herba clavorum, 1550. 
 Herbert> judge, his bad advice td James II., 
 
 755. 
 Ileroulancum, 22. | 
 
 Hereford morris-dance of old men, 83d. 
 
 Herman, John, donor to Sutton Coldfield, 
 533 
 
 Hermetic science, 141. 
 
 Heston, Middlesex, shrove-tide, 151. 
 
 Herwy, Eliz., abbess of Elstow, 978. 
 
 Hickes, Dr. Geo., 1184; John, ibid. 
 
 Hiifernan, Paul, anecdote of, 864. 
 
 High Jinks, 1131. 
 
 Highworth, Oxfordshire, gipsoy funeral at, 
 915. 
 
 Hind's-head inn. Ascot, 1319. 
 
 Historical pictures unsatisfying, 1441. 
 
 History of England, published gratis, 684. 
 
 Hob or nob 1 1514. 
 
 Hobby-horse of the morris-dance, 850. 
 
 Hocus-pocus, Hiccius-doctius, 1477. 
 
 Hogarth ornaments a tobacco box, 1572. 
 
 Hollar's View of Basing-housc, 1193. 
 
 HoUymore, capt., died on the day foretold, 
 1339. 
 
 Holt, sir John, 215. 
 
 Homes of England, 768. 
 
 Hommecastle, Worces., treasure found there, 
 859. 
 
 Honthorst, G., painter, teaches the palatine 
 
 family, 1074. 
 Hooke, Robert, his improved watches, 314. 
 Hooping-cough, cures for it, 253. 
 Horace, stanza of, sung at a funeral, 540. 
 Home, bishop, 283. 
 Horse and lamb, Inner Temple, 1 13. 
 
 man, advertisement, 38], 
 
 diseases, charm for, 1549. 
 
 nianship, 538. 
 
 racing established, 1097. 
 
 fair, Stourbridge, 1543. 
 
 shoes, 952, 1526. 
 
 • — ' ' to make them fall off, 1551. 
 
 shoeing, to help, 1550. 
 
 Hour glasses in coffins, 704. 
 
 Houseleek on cottages to repel lightning, 1552. 
 
 Howard, lady Mary, 1262. 
 
 Howe's, lord, victory, 619, 
 
 Howell, L., nonjuror, bis cruel sentence, 857. 
 
 Howitt's Book of the Seasons, 259. 
 
 Hucks, W,, M.P., brewer to the household, 
 
 1311, 
 Hud dleston, father, 16, 1039. 
 Hudson, Jeffery, 16, 999. 
 Huli festival, 401. 
 Hunter's song, 1206. 
 Huntsmen, bewitched, 1567. 
 Huntingdon's, earl of, new year's gift, 20. 
 Husband and wife, parting epistles, 208. 
 Hush ! hush I awful sounds, 303. 
 Hutton, William, antiquary, 1114; extracts 
 from his unpublished MS3,, 1115; his 
 visits to places in London, 1417 t> 1424, 
 1437 to 1440. 
 Huygcus's improved watches, 314. 
 Hydon Hill, Surrey, 939. 
 Hyena, his wonderful properties, 494. 
 Hypochondria, 1214. 
 
1629 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 16»0 
 
 Idleness, 62. 
 
 Hi Maj-day, a garland, 624. 
 Illumination, for peace witl\ France, 467. 
 Images of persons, for bewitcUng thorn to 
 
 death, 1565. 
 Inchbald, Mrs., at Stourbridge fair, 1539. 
 Imagination, dangers of, 720. 
 Indecision of character, 213. 
 Indiscretion, 1509. 
 Indolence, 192. 
 Insects, 766, 780, 1097. 
 Invisibility, to effect, 1432. 
 Irish servant's dialogue, 222 ; inventory, 255 ; 
 
 customs, 310, 311, 1608. 
 Isaiah, Book of the Ascension of, 75. 
 ^. martyrdom of, 76. 
 
 Jncklin, John, poet and shaver, Cambridge 
 1505. 
 
 Jackson, a murderer, the charm he wor«, 1586 
 
 James I., his cradle and chair, 401 ; hpw ad- 
 dressed on his accession, 429 ; frightened, 
 49 ; revels and intoxicates with the .king 
 of Denmark, 831 ; his daughter Eligabeth 
 married to the elector palatine, 1074 ; his 
 death, 379. 
 
 II., omens concerning, 1404 ; his de- 
 cline and fall, 755. 
 
 Jefferies, Id. chanc, a musical umpire, 181. 
 
 , E. W., finds treasure, 860. 
 
 Jennings, Sir John, admiral, 1491. 
 
 Jew, a, ceremonies on executing, 1384. 
 
 Jews* harp, played by fools, 65.- 
 
 Jewel, bishop, preaches against witchcraft, 
 1565. 
 
 Joan of Arc, honours to her kindred, 638. 
 
 John, king, his palace near Toten-hall, 47. 
 
 Johnson, Dr. S., his dictionary, &c., 1043. 
 
 Jones, Thomas Mount, immortalized, 310. 
 
 Jordan, Abr., sen, and jun., organ bifilders, 
 180. 
 
 Jordane, Margery, the witch of Eye, 1565. 
 
 Kames, lord of Session, Edinburgh, 70S. 
 Keith, Rev, George, Fleet and May F ai 
 
 wedding-parson, 596. 
 Kellerman, Mr., alchemist of Lilly, Herts, 
 
 229. 
 Kenn, bishop, 160. 
 Kennet, White, 1 184. 
 
 Kent, John, parish <-lerk of St. Alban's, 1079. 
 Kentish customs, 361, 375. 
 Ker of Kersland, J., a spy, 807. 
 Kern-sapper, 1065. 
 Keyson church, Bedfords., fall from steeple^ 
 
 1406. 
 Killigrew, Tom, 164 ; made king's jester, 
 
 166. 
 King, Cromwell's saying of the title, 892.' 
 
 of the fairies, 1528. 
 
 's evil, touching for the, 799. 
 
 , Dr., physician to Charles II., unpaid, 
 
 159. 
 
 , Erasmus, coachman and lecturer, 251. 
 
 , John, printselier, 442. 
 
 Kingslhorpe, Northamptonshi^ 1167. 
 Kingston, duchess of, 1003. ^ 
 Kippis, Dr. A., author, 1170. 
 Kirk of Scotland, general assembly of, 1218. 
 Kissing in France and England, 1086. 
 Knives, razors, and scissars, 252. 
 Knockers, mine-spirits, 1533. 
 Knots, 1052. 
 
 Knowledge and judgment, 191 ; and igno- 
 rance, 1509. 
 Knox, Dr. Vieesimus, on War, 1267. 
 
 La Butte, Rene, printer and linguist, 683. 
 Ladder, a, to cure passing under, 253. 
 Lady in the straw, 814. 
 
 in a garden, 920. 
 
 of excellent conversation, 1233. 
 
 , a, rides for a wager, 538. 
 
 and nightingale, 731. 
 
 's song, 1042. 
 
 Day, 375. 
 
 Ladies sawing, 75 ; riding-habits 172 
 
 Laguerre, Louis, artist, 490, 
 
 Lahontan, in France, ruined by law, 126. 
 
 Lake, bishop, 149, 
 
 Lamiters, the, of Edinburgh, 1047. 
 
 Lamb, Charles, sonnet to, 1375. 
 
 , Miss, " Mrs. Leicester's school," by, 
 
 227. 
 Lambeth palace garden, Surrey, 918. 
 Lanark Marches, riding of, a custom, 696. 
 Land, dedicated to Satan, 1552. 
 Landscape-paintings, 1442. 
 Languages, character of, 1000. 
 Landlords and tenants' new years gifts, 33- 
 Languet, rector of St. Sulpice, 96. 
 Lantern and candle-light, 23, 1611. 
 Lanthorn, a new year's gift, 21, 
 Largess, 1068. 
 Lark, the, to rear, 1038. 
 Lating the witches, 1276, 
 Laud, Abp., 64, 66, 
 Laurel, repels thunder, 1552. 
 Laurence, Dr. R., Abp. of Cashel, 75, 
 Law and lawyers, 124. 
 
 notice of -the profession, 1049. 
 
 ^pleasantries, 1387, 
 
 suits on. New Year's Day, 27. 
 
 Laws, old, 1454, 1587. 
 
 Lawyers, drunken, and their clerks, 1124. 
 
 Lawless-day at Exeter, 636. 
 
 Lawn-sleeves, a drink, 116. 
 
 Lawrence, Rev. J. L., horticulturist, 616. 
 
 Layer, counsellor, his head parboiled, 1048. 
 
 Lectures, the first in Loudon on experimental 
 
 philosophy, 251. 
 Lee church, Kent, 1204. 
 John, overseer, light-horse volunteer. 
 
 Sec., 1574. 
 Leeds, Yorks., great battle, 95, 
 Leet, 1110. 
 Leicester custom, 538 < 
 Leigh, Samuel, bookseller, 115. 
 Lent crocking, 1599. 
 Letters, old, 205. 
 
1031 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 1632 
 
 Lewis, Mr., chofis-player, and writer on the 
 game, 558.^ 
 
 , W., great drinker, 1406. 
 
 Library, public, at Manchester, 
 Licensing books, 66^ 
 Life, mixed conditions o£, 469. 
 Light, inward, 983. 
 Lightning, charm against, 1551. 
 Lincoln's Inn, prince of Misrule, 29. 
 Lincolnshire drainage, 1012. 
 Lingo, whence derived, 530, 
 Lion, a, annual sermon for deliverance from, 
 1356. 
 
 Office, and lions in the Tower, 1035. 
 
 Lions and leopards, bearings in the royal 
 
 arms, 1323. 
 Literary blunders, 443. 
 Little Britain, old booksellers in, 1133. 
 
 — , John, a miser of old clothes, 358. 
 
 Lloyd, Roderic, prothonotary.N. Wales, 619. 
 
 Loaf, censing, 44. 
 
 Locks, charm to open, 1551. 
 
 Lofting, J., inventor of the fire-engine, 1000. 
 
 Logan, poet, 1548. 
 
 stones at Paris, 440. 
 
 London, city of, royal processions through, 
 1057 ; Register office in 1658, 888 ; the 
 city burnt, 1034 ; its Charter signed, 729 ; 
 old grotto in a cellar, 193 ; London-stone, 
 1149 ; Mansion-house, 1462 ; swearng 
 in of sheriffs, 1149 ; Pinner's-hall ser- 
 mon, 503 ; artist's society, 448. 
 
 dealers at Stourbridge fair, 1547. 
 
 suburbs, 317 — 320 ; Raine's Charity- 
 school, May-day wedding portion, 534, 
 
 . Bridge, suicide there, 468, 
 
 , new bridge, St, Michael's church, 
 
 Crooked Lane, demolished for the ap- 
 proaches, 482 ; Roman remains found, 
 879. — Further, see Hutton. 
 Londonderry, siege of, 777. 
 Lonely funeral, 1429. 
 Longevity, 209, 723, 836, 845, 1485. 
 
 , how attained, 186. 
 
 of hawks, 274. 
 
 Loose, in Kent, curious tree at, 431. 
 Lord Mayor's-day, 1336 ; a lord mayor 
 made a LL.D., 1337 ; not compellable to 
 be one of the twelve company, 1267. 
 Lords, house of, first case of imprisonment 
 
 beyond the session, 1403. 
 Love-charms, 1439. 
 Lou Boulidou, near Montpelier, 222. 
 Louisa, princess, of Bohemia, 107 9. 
 Luck of Eden-hall, 529. 
 Lumley, Jane, lady, 547. 
 Luther, Martin, 214. 
 
 Mace, the, 297 ; stealing, 1319. 
 Mack-lntosh stone, Arran, 1554. 
 
 of Kirani, a curious book, 491. 
 
 Magic tile to expel wcedg, 1549, 
 Magicians, 1557. 
 
 Magnus, St., organ and chuixh, lOO. 
 Maiden's portion, 532. 
 
 Maidstone and church, 365—375, 621. 
 Malcolm III., king of Scotland, 1209. 
 Mallard-day at Oxford, 88. 
 Malton, grave-digger, Yorks., 815. 
 Man accused of robbing his wife, 615. 
 Manchester College and library, 79 ; pub- 
 lisher, 684. 
 Mandrake, used in witchcraft^ 1567. 
 Manesse, Rudiger von, his MS., 286, 655. 
 Manger in churches at Christmas, 1579. 
 Manners, French and English, 1084, 
 Manors, origin of, 179. 
 Maps of Oxford, 682, 
 Mar, earl of, escape from prison, &c., 594. 
 Margaret, St., and St. John's, Westminster, 
 
 past overseers' society tobacco box, 1569* 
 Marian, maid, 834, 845. 
 Mark Lane, effigy on 1st. March, 265. 
 Marlborough, great duke of, 726. 
 Marrying day, 76> 
 Marks, witches', 1562, 1563. 
 Martilmasse day, 1342. 
 Marylebone gardens, 500, 
 Masque, drunken, at court, 831, 
 Mathematical problem, 894. 
 Matrimonial oracles, 1172. 
 MatiSnson, rev. Mr., Patterdale,Weslmorland, 
 
 1611. 
 Matthews, bookseller, 115. 
 Maundy Thursday, 313. 
 Maurice, prince of Bohemia, 1078. 
 May and May-day, verses, 515, 635, 611, 
 644, 732, 733. 
 
 day sports, &c., 521, 555, 1169, 1593. 
 
 Fair, marriages, 596. 
 
 Maynard, judge, 1180. 
 
 Meadj Dr. R., his death and collections, 212. 
 
 Mel-supper, 1065. 
 
 Memory Garlands, 28. 
 
 Men, how they become wolves, 1510, 
 
 Mezzotinto engraving, origin of, 306. 
 
 Michaelmas-day, 1147. 
 
 Mickleham,Kent, account of, 943. 
 
 Middleton, Ireland, custom, 1608. 
 
 ' — Lane, parish officer outwitted, 862. 
 
 Midsummer-day, court ceremonies, 24 j and 
 
 eve, 1172 ; fires, 871, 1580. 
 Milkmaid, a fair and happy, 511. 
 Miller's Tomb, Highdown Hill, Sussex, 1378, 
 
 1391. 
 Mills, old bookseller, 1133. 
 Milton, a letter by him on his blindness, 1142. 
 Mince pie, 1415. 
 Minnesingers, Lays of the, 284. 
 Minster church, Thanet, Kent, 1521. 
 Mirage described, 899. 
 
 Mitchell, William, tinklarian doctor, Edin- 
 burgh, 1361. 
 Mock Prince and his court, 327. 
 Mohun, lord, killed in a duel, 1355. 
 Moles, 1478. 
 
 Monboddo, lord of Session, Edinburgh, 701. 
 Money, breaking a piece of, 1050 ; how to 
 
 have it always in your pocket, 253. 
 Monument, unlre inscription erased, 10.^4. 
 
1633 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 1634 
 
 Montague, Ralph, duke of, lines on, 632, 
 
 insane duchess of, 978. 
 
 Montaigne's opinion of lawyers, 125 ; his 
 
 reason for studying in old age, 187. 
 Montem at Eton, 598 to 608. 
 Moore, Francis, physician, 117. 
 Moon, Its phases, 11 ; how charmed for good 
 
 luck, 253 J tor husbands, 254. 
 
 wort, a herb, for a charm, 1551. 
 
 Morant, rev. P., author, 890. 
 
 Moravia, extirpation of Baptists from, 1073. 
 
 Morley, near Leeds, history of, by Mr. Nor- 
 
 risson Scatcherd, 181 ; the chapel clerk, 
 
 and singers, 181. 
 Morris dancing, accounts of, 833. 
 Moseley, Thomas, of' Walsall, 55. 
 Mourning court, 174. 
 Mugwort, a herb, for a charm, 1550. 
 Mulberry-tree, remarkable, 921. 
 Mumping-day, 1479. 
 Murray, Lindley, dialogue on, 800. 
 Musical wager, 692, 
 My little dog Bobb, 256. 
 
 Nail-pairing on Sunday, 223. 
 
 Nails, herb of, 1550. 
 
 Name, change of, 487 ; punning mottoes on 
 noble ones, 488. 
 
 National renovation, 396. 
 
 Nativity, B. T. M., court ceremonies, 24. 
 
 Natural beauties, 78. 
 
 ■ history, collections, 72. 
 
 rustic, philosophy, 223. 
 
 Nature, rejoicings of, 264 ; music of, 1166, 
 
 Neale, a speculator in building, 1164. 
 
 Needle and thread, Oxford custom, 685. 
 
 Neville, Grey, M. P., dissenter, 503. 
 
 New Potatoes ! an Irish story, 881. 
 
 New Year's-day, court ceremonies, 24 ; in 
 France, 26 ; lawsuits, 27 ; gifts, 15, 19; 
 without work, ominous, 253. 
 
 Newark penny-loaf day, 301 . 
 
 Newcastle, siege of, 1208 ; witches, 376 ; feast 
 of Crispin, 893. 
 
 Newspaper generosity, 684 ; a particular or- 
 der for one, 203 ; early one, 809. 
 
 New Testament, read by Collins the poet, 717. 
 
 Nichols, Sutton, his view of Vauxhall, 868. 
 
 Nicholson, John, Cambridge, bookseller, 682. 
 
 Night-bom people, how fortunate, 252. 
 
 time, commendation of, 1358, 1385. 
 
 Nightingale, the, to rear, 477 ; haunts, &c., 
 662. 
 
 No man can be good to all; 1115. 
 
 Noise, habitual, an effect of, 1363. 
 
 North Shields, philanthropist, 217. 
 
 Nose-itching, a sign, 252. 
 
 Nosegays to queen Elizabeth, 38. 
 
 Notre j3ame, symbols on the church of, 141. 
 
 Nottingham, old travelling , to London, 269, 
 
 lord chancellor, 295. 
 
 Novello, Vincent, composer, 155. 
 
 Oak in the wall of Boxley abbey, Kent, 239. 
 Cheshunt oak, 1598. 
 
 — - — Royal, 636 
 
 Oakham, Rutlandshire, custo^, 952. 
 
 Oath, Chinese, ceremony of, 1385, 
 
 Oc and No, lord of, 430. 
 
 Old Nick, 1328, 
 
 Oliver, J. and P., artists, 555. 
 
 John, Sussex, miller, 1377, 1391. 
 
 Olney Bridge, Bucks,, 1490. 
 Omens, 1327, 1403. 
 Orchestra, performance described, 507. 
 Organ of St, Magnus church, 180. 
 
 at Haarlem, described, 689. 
 
 builders, 180 ; contest at the Temple, 
 
 181. 
 
 Orphan boy's tale, 1162. 
 
 Otham church, Kent, 1263. 
 
 Ointment, witch, 1564. 
 
 Owen, Lewy, a clown, 1539. 
 
 Owl's concert and ball, 1023. 
 
 Oxford Nightcaps, 61, 114, 266 ; mallard, 
 
 88 ; egg feasts, 147 ; founder of Queen's 
 
 coll., 685 ; D. D. made in boots, 114 ; 
 
 Bookseller, 682 ; old travelling to London, 
 
 269. 
 Oxford, Aubrey de Vere, earl of, 302. 
 
 Pack-horses, 269. 
 
 Paddlfisworth, Kent, old chapel, 1007,- 
 
 Page, sir Francis, merciless judge, 614, 
 
 Palace of woridly felicitie, 946. 
 
 Palatine Family, 1077. 
 
 Pall-mall, 36. 
 
 Palm Sunday, 309, 1583. 
 
 Palmistry, 1510. 
 
 Pancake bill, 148. 
 
 Panel of noble names for a jury, 1317. 
 
 Paris, Goldsmith's Mayday pageant, 5i3 ; 
 
 Guild of the assumption ceremony, 954 ; St. 
 
 Foix, 1000. 
 Parisian- English bill of performances, 1381. 
 Parish-clerk, office of, in rhyme, 1614. 
 Parish law and parishes, 1614. 
 
 priest, a good, 925. 
 
 Parker, Michael, of Malton, grave-digger, 815, 
 Parkhurst, Charles, epitaph on, 548, 
 Parliament and usages, 75S ; publication of 
 
 debates, 809. 
 Parrhasius, 42. 
 
 Parting, and invitation to return, 1120. 
 Passage, passe dix, a game, 49. 
 Patches, ladies', 170. 
 Patrick's, St., day, 310. 
 Patronage without law, 1077. 
 Pax, the, its forms and uses, 323, 
 Peace with France in 1814, 1172. 
 Peaches, fondness of George I. for, 189. 
 Peacocks, 493. 
 Peers' new year's gifts, 21. 
 Peg Tankards, account of, 481. 
 Pelicans, 493. 
 Penn,W.,correspond8 with princess Elizabeth, 
 
 1079. 
 Penny, Anglo-Saxon, 1071 
 
 •loaf-day .at Newark, 301. 
 
 Pcnshurst, !'13, 
 
1635 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 1630 
 
 Pepys*, Mr. Sam., and his wife's dress, 170. 
 
 Perambulatioils, 1172. 
 
 Percy, origin of the name, ISIO. 
 
 Peridoxion, a marvellous tree> 49!2. 
 
 Periwigs, 169, 170, 1166. 
 
 Perpetual motion, 1585. 
 
 Pett, Thomas, miser, 659. 
 
 Phillips, sir R., his Personal Tour, 229. 
 
 Physicians, old, prescriptions, 2 1.2. 
 
 Pickle -eating, 970. 
 
 Pie, dwarf- in a, 16. 
 
 Pied Piper, of Hulberstadt, 1372. 
 
 Piod-poudi'e court, Stourbridge fair, 1540, 
 1543. 
 
 Pieraon, S., churchwarden of St. Margaret's, 
 Westminster, 1574. ' 
 
 Pigmies, 18. 
 
 Pigs, sharp-sighted, 252 ; predilectionfor,703, 
 
 Pilliwinckles, for extorting confession, 1563. 
 
 Pinner, Middlesex, shrove-tide, 151, 
 
 Pinner's hall, annual sermon, 503, 
 
 Pitfour, lord of sessions, Edinburgh, 700. 
 
 Fix, the, 325. * 
 
 Plague, the, affects wig-wearing, 173. 
 
 Planets, 9. 
 
 Plantagenet, Richard, son of Richard III., 980. 
 
 Plants, 43. 
 
 Pleasants, Mr. T, Irish philanthropist, 268. 
 
 Plough Monday, 57. 
 
 inn. Lordship lane, Camberwell. 301. 
 
 Poet, and the Summer, 917, 
 
 Political adversaries, 750, 1184. 
 
 Pollok, Robert, and hiB birth-place, 1090, 
 
 Pondering, 191. 
 
 Pont notre-dame, fall of, 1255. 
 
 Poor-boxes at inns, &c., 596: 
 
 man's life, a virtuous, 512. 
 
 Pope, Alex, advertises he was not whipped, 
 726, 
 
 -r- — a drink, 116. 
 
 Porter to Chfirles, I., 17. 
 
 Porteus, capt. hanging of, 1046. 
 
 Portland, Richard Weston, earl of, 312. 
 
 Portrait painter, the first who required ad- 
 vances upon sitting, 911. 
 
 Portsmouth dock-yard fi^ed, 449. 
 
 Potter, John, 93. 
 
 Potton, Beds, Christmas custom, 1596 • 
 
 Poverty, 1412. 
 
 Poultry, charm to preserve, 1549. 
 
 Powder, witch, 1563. 
 
 Power, desire for, 128. , 
 
 Preaching covered, 1118. 
 
 Prepossession, a, fatally realised, 1339. 
 
 Presepio, the, 1579. 
 
 Preston bugessess, 755. 
 
 Pretender, the, in London, 1019. 
 
 Priestley, Peter, parish-clerk of Wakeiield,303. 
 
 Primroses, 762. 
 
 Prince of misrule, 25 ; at Gray's Inn, 357. 
 
 Daniel, Oxford, bookseller, 682. 
 
 Private judgment in matters of faith, 214. 
 
 Proverbs of the weather, 300. 
 
 Prynne,Will., and Laud, 66, 
 
 Pudding pieing, Kent, 361. 
 
 Pulvcr Wednesday, 153. 
 Punchbowl and ladle at Jesus college, Cam- 
 bridge, 265. 
 Punishment of death, 1399. 
 Punning notice, 1204. 
 Puny epistle to the kirk of Scotland, 1220. 
 
 Quails, alleged origin of, 1432. 
 Quare, Daniel, watchmaker, 314. 
 Queen of the fairies, 1528. 
 Quecusberry house, and family, Edinburgh 
 791, 
 
 Raffacle, painter, 447. 
 
 Rain, 222; monthly averages, 131. 
 
 Rainsford, Mr., justice, 377. 
 
 Ramsay, Allan, 796. 
 
 Ratcliffe, Dr., 212. 
 
 Rats, the town guard, Edinburgh, 666. 
 
 Raven inn, at Hook, Hants., 450. 
 
 Rawlinsou, Dr. R., his wig, 169. 
 
 Read, Mr. J., overseer, difTers with his parish 
 on quitting office, detains the past over- 
 seers' tobacco box, and is sued for it in 
 chancery, 1575. 
 
 Nich,, sculptor, 311. 
 
 . sir W., quack doctor, 631. 
 
 Reading and knowledge, 1374. 
 
 Records, Prynne's, 70. 
 
 Reddish, Mr. comedian, his widow, and his 
 father, 1547. 
 
 Regalia, the, 1422, 
 
 Reinagle, Mr,, his account of the Royal Cla- 
 rence Vase, 997. 
 
 Religion under Cromwell and Charles II„ 165. 
 
 Rembrandt's Jacob's Dream, 1441. 
 
 Remember! 295. 
 
 Restoration-day, 636. 
 
 Results of machinery, 1152. 
 
 Revenge and retribution, awful instances of, 
 1406. 
 
 Reynolds, sir J., account of, 234. 
 
 Richard I., died, 430 *, the first royal pluralist, 
 ibid. 
 
 II.. lands in Ireland, 1160. 
 
 III. killed, 980 ; his son, ibid. 
 
 Riches, 1036. 
 
 — of poverty, 279. 
 
 Ring-finger, 76. 
 
 in the mire, near Honiton, D^von, 1353. 
 
 Rising and falling in the world, 313. 
 
 Robbing detected by reflexion, 1139, 
 
 Robin redbreast, 63^ an emblem, 413 ; nest 
 on board lord Nelson's ship, 1162. 
 
 Robin Hood; a little geste of, 802. 
 
 king John, and Maid Marianne, 
 
 803. 
 
 Le morte de, &c., 805, 846. 
 
 Rochester castle, Kent, plants, 920. 
 
 lord, cuffs Killegrew, 166 j witty 
 
 dialogue with Charles It., 167. 
 Rocker of the royal household, 401. 
 Rogers, C, antiquary and patron of art, 907. 
 
 . — H., criminal opposer of the law, 999. 
 
 Home, carnival, 49. 
 
1637 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 1638 
 
 Rosemary, 37 ■ for remembrancs, 467. 
 
 Roses, 1S04. 
 
 Rothsay castle steam vessel, 1225. 
 
 Rousseau, Sam., printer and aulhor, 1429. 
 
 Royston, Herts., 118. 
 
 Rue, a charm against witchcraft, 1551. 
 
 Rum-fustian, a drink, 62. 
 
 Rupert, prince, 619 ; invents mezzolinto en- 
 graving, 306. 
 
 Rural charms, 1549. 
 
 description, 940, 
 
 Rushbearing, in Lancashire, 1103 ; York- 
 shire, 1106, in Norfolk, 1109 ; various, 
 1111. 
 
 Sabbath, witches', 1663. 
 
 bells, 227. 
 
 Sabre de bois, 1086. 
 
 Sacheverell, Dr. Henry and John, account of, 
 675. 
 
 Sadler, Mr. T., M. P., an anecdote, 505. 
 
 Saddle, the fairies', 529. 
 
 Sailing fish, 1407. 
 
 Sailors' friend, 217 ; wife's petition to Crom- 
 well, 891. 
 
 St. Alban's, Herts., parish clerk, &c., 1079. 
 
 — . Barnabas-day customs, 709. 
 
 — Bartholomew, festival of, 985. 
 
 Catherine Cree church, Leadenhall-street, 
 
 1356. 
 Crispin's feast at Newcastl, 89 S. 
 
 — Foix, historian of Paris, 1000. 
 
 — James's Palace, 1417. 
 
 — John, festival of, 985. 
 
 — John baptist, beteaded, 1011. 
 
 — Katherine's dock, London, 754. 
 
 — Martin's little summer, 1343. 
 
 — Paul's cathedral, music, 538. 
 
 — Thomas's day customs, 1596. 
 
 — Ulric's festival, 789. 
 Salis, cardinal de, 186. . 
 
 Salt, a morrice-dance in jewels, 855. 
 Salter, Gen., rose from the ranks, 911. 
 Salvington, a retired village, near Worthing, 
 
 1377. 
 Sand-glass, court of session, Edinburgh; 704. 
 Saracen's-head, eaten by Richard I., 1502. 
 Saijant, seijeant, account of, 911. 
 Saw, the, 75 ; Isaiah martyred by, 76. 
 Sawing billets, 76. 
 Sawston hall, Cambridgeshire, 1039. 
 Saxon deities, 536, 1382, 
 Scene of happiness, 674. 
 Schnebbelie, J., artist, 219. 
 School, Bruce castle and Hazel wood. 111. 
 
 books, early, 988. 
 
 Schools, public, 502. 
 
 Schrider, organ-builder, 181. 
 
 Scissars, knives, razors, &c., 1462. _ 
 
 Scotland, Candlemas in, 139 ; Valentine s- 
 
 - General Assembly of the Kirk, 617. 
 Scots' pills, 123 ; a union anecdote, 1447 ; 
 Scottish ploughing in Sussex, 1311. 
 Scott, R., old bookscUer, 1133. 
 
 Sea-monsters, 1001 ; serpents, 1003. 
 
 song, to ladies on land, 29. 
 
 Seal's-skiu, checketh lightning, 1552. 
 Seasons, divisions of, 138. 
 Second sight, 1392. 
 
 Selden's cottage, Salvington, Sussex, 1378. 
 Self-interest, " nothing like leather," 499, 
 ricnnahoi, Roger Bacon's epistle to, 427. 
 Sepulchre, at Exeter, 355. 
 Serge-manufacturers, Exeter, 1468. 
 Seijeants at law, plead in armour, 126. 
 Serpents dislike a certain tree, 492. 
 
 ^ — knee, 19. 
 
 Servant, memorial to a faithful, 382. 
 Setters, 1029. 
 Seven Dials, 1164. 
 Seymour, queen Jane, 1231. 
 Shakspeare's chair, 145. 
 
 monument, performance for, 508. 
 
 works, error in reprints of, 325. 
 
 lines from, latinized, 1476. 
 
 Shamrock, 310. 
 
 Sharp, Abraham, mathematician, 1486. 
 
 Shark, a, rescue from, 542. 
 
 She-dog, lord Karnes used the term implying 
 
 702. 
 Sheep-shearing, 746, 813. 
 Shenstone, W., his death and character, 187. 
 Sherlock, Dr. W., death of, 730. 
 Ship, to hiuder its sailing, 1432. 
 Ships, great, 298, 1226. 
 Shippen, Will, account of, 660, 
 Shoe-buckles, 169. 
 
 Shooting, first day of, 1029 ; Dying, ibid. 
 Sporting, character of a pointer, 1249. 
 Shorediche, R., juryman of the seven bishops, 
 
 857. 
 Shotley-bridge, Durham, German sword-CHt- 
 
 lers, 1339. 
 Shovel, sir Cloudesley, shipwrecked, 1224. 
 Shoulder-knots, 169. 
 
 Show Jamie, an Edinburgh character, 865. 
 Shrovetide, 146, 538, 1592, 1699. 
 Shroud, a man executed in 1484. 
 Sickness from fairies, 1533. 
 Sidney's, sir Philip, chair, 143 ; his death, 
 
 145 ; his father's epistle to him, 11'95. 
 Silver-mine, in Cheshire, 1S81. 
 Sin-eaters, 868. 
 Singer during a century, 1485. 
 Single-stick, 1526. 
 Sinkom the Cadie, Edinburgh, 702, 
 Sitting croSs-legged, 1440. 
 Syk-lark, the, to rear, 469. 
 Slave-trade, origin of, 1206 ; abolition, 541. 
 Sloane, sir Hans, 71. 
 Smith, the organ builder, 180. 
 Smuggling, brutal, 1492. 
 Snow, verses, 131 , burial of a Swiss family ,156. 
 Stuff box, Robert Bums's, 630. 
 Songs for the Nursery, 1009. 
 Somerset, duke of, and bad roads, 270. 
 
 the proud, 950. 
 
 Son, what to do with a, 192 ; advice to, 1195, 
 1170. 
 
1G39 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 1640 
 
 Sophia, princesB, of Boiiemia^ 1079. 
 
 Sorcerers, 1557. 
 
 Sorcery, 1561, 
 
 Sortes Virgiliaii<e, 1458. 
 
 South, Dr. R., 435. 
 
 Spain, king of> difficult journey in England^ 
 
 270, 
 Spanker, a race-horse, 1096. 
 Spark in the candle, a sign, S53. 
 Spearing, G,, seven days in a coal-pit, 1081. 
 Speech from a tree, 243. 
 Sphinx, the, riddle of, 428. 
 Spinning, 1313 ; by hand and machinery, 1329, 
 
 Jenny, its invention, 1331 
 
 Spirits, petiLion for perTxiission to see, and 
 
 command them, 425. 
 
 ~ evilj charms against, 1549, 1558. 
 
 Sporting- month, 906. 
 
 Sportsmen, blind, 618. 
 
 Sprat, Dr. Thomas, bishop of Rochester, 1148. 
 
 Spring, 261, 280. . 
 
 birds and insects, 406. 
 
 walks, 364, 621. 
 
 -verses, 197, 261, 279, 280, 308, 384, 
 
 387 to 392, 510, 537, 558, 614, 631, 640, 
 
 644. 
 Squinters, to avert ill luck on meeting, 253, 
 Stage-coaches, deemed mischievous, 270. 
 Staines, Sir William, alderman, 1337. 
 Stanzas, by Harry Stowe Van Dyk, 206. 
 Steele, sir. Richard, author, 1030. 
 Sfee'ple-flying, 1477. 
 Steer's, Mr,, parish Law, 1614. 
 Stephen's (St.; day, 1512. 
 Stevenage, Herts, farmer's funeral, 155. 
 Ste\vart, Mrs., temp. Charles 11. 171, 173, 
 
 -198. 
 
 Sir W, killed at Edinburgh, 894. 
 
 Stockhose, Robert, Eton Laureate,. 1345. 
 Stockings, wrong put onj a sign, 252, 
 
 hnng cross-wise, a charm, 25.*?, 
 
 green, 170. 
 
 Stokes, rev. Edw., a blind clergyman^ 617. 
 
 Stone charms, 1554. 
 
 Stones, perforated, 1437 ; sleeping on, ibid. 
 
 Storks, curious account of, 491, 
 
 Storm, great, on the western coast, 1385. 
 
 Story, Robert, poet, Gargrave, Yorkshire, 
 
 1614. 
 Stourbridge Fair, Cambridgeshire, 1537. 
 Stowe, old, the elder, his will, 1612. 
 Strong, J., blind mechanic, 250. 
 Stuart, fatality of the family, 1015. 
 Stukeley, Dr. W., antiquary, 277. 
 Style, change of he, 1035. 
 Sublilties, confectionary, 54. 
 Summer wanderings, in Kent, 241. 
 
 — glories of 899; 916. 
 
 morning, and sun-rise, 771. 
 
 verses, 758. 
 
 --and Winter, a custom, 527. 
 
 Sun in autumn, 1027, 1145. 
 —--rise beautifully described, 512, 
 
 beams, a token, 105. 
 
 Sunday, fevers on, 612 ; breaches of, 619. 
 Superstitious beliefs^ and practices, 251, 612. 
 
 Surgeon, female, 1048. 
 Surname, 381. 
 Surrey, earl of, poet, 98. 
 Sussex Roads, old, 270, 
 
 Sutton and Potton, Bedfordshire, manors of, 
 1598. 
 
 ColefielJ, Wai-w., bequest to, 532. 
 
 Swallows, migration of, 414 ; marvellous vir- 
 tues of, 494. 
 Swarbrick, organ builder, 181. 
 Swig, a drink, 166. 
 — — day at Cambridge, $65. 
 Swindells, printer, Manchester, 83* 
 Sword dance, 57. 
 Swords charmed, 311. 
 Sympathies of Nature, 282. 
 
 Table clock, a curious, 244, 
 diversion, i 
 
 Taborer of the morris-dance, 850. 
 
 Talbot family tomb, 545. 
 
 Tallis's Litany revived, 638. 
 
 Tarring, near Worthing, Sussex, 1379. 
 
 Tasso and his sister, 719. ■- 
 
 Taylor, H., North Shields, philanthropist, 217, 
 
 , Sir Robert, architect, 1140. 
 
 Tea, bubbles on, 253. 
 
 chop, 1583. 
 
 Tears of Old May day, 611. 
 Teignmouth, Devon, lish cast ashore, IOOOl 
 Temple -church, organ, 181. 
 gate, 113, 
 
 .^ revels at Christmas, 1501, 15C3 
 
 , Mr. John, drowned, 468. 
 
 Tennis, 36. 
 
 Tenth egg, 31. 
 
 wave, 444, 445; 
 
 Terms, law, 124, 1317. 
 
 Teutates, worship of, 870. ' 
 
 Texts, origin df, 1223. 
 
 Thame, Oxfordshire, account of the vicarage- 
 house, 705, 
 
 Thaw, in a village, 120. 
 
 Theatres, Drury-lane, first play bill, 444. 
 
 • — ■ Haymarket, bottle conjurer, 93» 
 
 Thormometer, change in the, 726 
 
 Thomas, bishop, account of, 825. 
 
 , Mrs., account of, 473, 623. 
 
 Thoth, 871. 
 
 Thriving and unthriving, 862, 
 
 Thrush, the, to rear, 860, 
 
 Thunder, charm against, 1551. 
 
 ^-quakes, 119 ; storms, 639. 
 
 Thurlow, lord chancellor, 295. 
 
 Time, employment and division of, 192. 
 
 Tindal, Rev, Nich., historian, account of> 890, 
 
 Toads in stones, 620. 
 
 Tobacco box of the past overseers' society of 
 St. Margaret, and St. John, Westminster^ 
 1569. 
 
 Tollett's, Mr., window, 526, 833. 
 
 Tom the piper, 850. 
 
 Tompion, Thomas, watchmaker, 314. 
 
 Toot-hills, and names of places in England 
 derived from them, 869. 
 
 Tortoisodhcll Tom cats, 72P.. 
 
1641 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 1542 
 
 Toten-hall, 47. 
 
 Totness, Geo. Carcw, earl of, 3.17. 
 
 Tottenham, Middlesex, 111. 
 
 Toulouse, count of, flagellated, 807. 
 
 Tower of London, 1422. 
 
 Townley, C, 32, 
 
 Townshend, Aid., 112 ; H. Hare, ibid. 
 
 Trades, effects of, on health and life, 1257. 
 
 Tragical occurrence at Edinburgh, 794. 
 
 Transmutation of metals, 32, 141, 190. 
 
 ■ of men, 1510, 
 
 Travelling, old, 97, 268, 1048, 1451, 1599. 
 
 facilitated in Holland, 972. 
 
 Treasure-finding, 860 ; fairy treasure, 1531. 
 
 of the deep, 1225. 
 
 Trevor, Sir John, law judge, 618. 
 
 Troubadours of Germany, 284. 
 
 True-lovers' knots, 1052. 
 
 Tryon, Thomas, author, 979. 
 
 Tnam, Ireland, meteorological phenomenon, 
 
 29. 
 Tuck, friar, 847.. 
 Tuddenham wake, Norfolk, 1110. 
 Tunstall, W., Scottish Jacobite, 750, 1029. 
 Turner, organ-builder, 181. 
 Tnmpenny, John, a generous economist, 1139. 
 Turks in the household of George I., 1288. 
 Turtle feasting, 518. 
 
 Twelfth-day, 44, 49 ; court ceremonies, 45. 
 Twenty-ninth of February, mem,, 251. 
 Tyrreus, Ben, Oxford pies, 147. 
 
 Valentine's-day, and Valentines, 195 — 202. 
 Vandermyn, portrait painter, 978. 
 Vander Werf s chessmen, 566. 
 Vandyck's method of painting, 694. 
 
 patronage of Dobson, 910. 
 
 Van Eyck, painter, 43, 
 
 Somer, painter, 41. 
 
 Tromp, Dutch admiral, 649. 
 
 Vase, Birmingham, 993. 
 
 Vaazhall Gardens, 868. 
 
 Vendeans, 183. 
 
 Ventriloquism, fatal, 1085. 
 
 Vernal extasy, verses, 735, 
 
 Victory, brief -announcement of a, 957, 
 
 Village child, a, 105. 
 
 church described, 925. 
 
 Vincent, Dr. N., his wig offends Charles II., 
 
 169. 
 Viner, sir Thomas, his funeral, 172. 
 Vineyards in England, 723. 
 Violete, 448. 
 
 Virtue, active and retired, 979. 
 Vogelweide, minnesinger, 290. 
 Voice, human, a machine with the, 1364. 
 
 Under the rose, 1516. 
 Underwood, J., his singular funeral, 540. 
 United States, equityjurisdictionof the, 1225, 
 Cpcott, Mr, W., saves John Evelyn's diary 
 
 from chance of destruction, 1343, 
 Uswick, Herts., Valentine's day, 201. 
 Utrecht fair, 961. 
 
 Wade, marshal, 307. 
 
 Wake, abp., carresponds with T. Bradbury, 
 
 1065. 
 Wakes, 958. 
 Walker, George, defender of Londonderry^: 
 
 777, 
 Walking fast, charm for, 1550. 
 Walsall Dole, 54. 
 Walton, admiral, 967. 
 's, Isaac, Angling, first edition, fine 
 
 copy, 1607. 
 " Wandering Jew, 1213. 
 Wanstead May games, 527. 
 Wants, few real, 192, 
 War, 467, 728, 1266. 
 
 sign, old British, 1523, 
 
 Ward, Ned, 4?4. 
 Waie-Hawt, 534. 
 Walton's, T., ludicrous account of Tom 
 
 Hearne, 1581. 
 Wartzburgh, bishop of, flagellated, 807, 
 Watches and Watchmakers, 314. 
 Water, to preserve fresh, 221 i inhabitants of, 
 
 ibid. 
 
 snakes' stone, 1434. 
 
 Watering-pot, old, 754, 
 
 Watkins, John, 213, 
 
 Waxwork exhibition, 96b. 
 
 Weather prognostication, 300. 
 
 Weathercocks in trees, 375. 
 
 Weavers, hand-loom, 1332. 
 
 Wedded love, 1233. 
 
 Weddings,days lucky and unlucky, 602; knots, 
 
 612 ; favors, 1054 ; spooQS, 1151 ; rings, 
 
 76 ; losing or breaking rings ominous, 253 ; 
 
 rosemary at, 38 ; biddings in Wales, 635 ; 
 
 music at, 198 ; weddings at Whitsuntide, 
 
 596 ; private weddings, 1649 ; a false 
 
 wedding, 302, 
 Wellwyn,Herts., altar piece and cloth, 1598. ' 
 Well fairies, 529. 
 
 saying and doing, 922. 
 
 Welsh surnames, 381. 
 
 Whale fishing, 410 ; and whales, 1001. 
 
 Wheat-sowing cakes, 1596. 
 
 Whipping Toms, a custom, 538. 
 
 Whirlpool, 1002. 
 
 White down, Devon, horses lose their shoes, 
 
 1551. 
 
 -witches, 1560. 
 
 -, James, author, 620. 
 
 Whitehall galleries, 172. 
 
 Whitsuntide customs, 595, &c. 
 
 Whittlesea, Camb., 540. 
 
 Whittlesford Bridge, old chapet Camb., 1425. 
 
 Wife, qualifications of a, 1119. 
 
 a virtuous, discreet, and loving, 1055. 
 
 agony of, on her husband's execution, 
 
 1399. 
 
 Wives, bishop Thomas's, 825. 
 
 Wigs in the Bodleian Library, &c., 169, 170, 
 
 174. 
 Wild fowl taking, first day of, 1159. 
 Wilful Livers, 174. 
 Wilkes and No. 45 — 500. 
 Will, a, remarkable discovery of, 70S, 
 WiUiam I., 19. 
 
1643 
 
 THE GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 1644 
 
 -and IVIary crooned, 457. 
 
 Williams, sir W., speaker, 810. 
 
 Wilson, Bp. T., 283. 
 
 1 J., botanist, 827. 
 
 M''alter, biographer of De Foe, 505. 
 
 of Romford, eccentric butcher, 973. 
 
 Winchester, Arthur's round table at| 161. 
 
 — ■ marq. of, ruined by his loyalty, 
 
 1193. 
 
 Windlesham church, Surrey, 737. 
 
 Windows painted, 556 ; one in St. Margaret's 
 church, Westminster, the subject of a pro- 
 secution, 1574. 
 
 Winifred's, St., well, 1308. 
 
 Winkfield church, Berks., 1321. 
 
 Winter, coming in of, 4091 ; arrival of 
 birds, 1157 ; celestial appearaiices, 1459. 
 
 ' a walk in, 175. 
 
 Wit, a dangerous quality, 1164. 
 
 Wise men, 1561. 
 
 Witches and charms, 377 , anecdote, 216 ; 
 witch case in 1823 at Taunton, 421 ; 
 witch-finding, 376 ; lating witches, 1276. 
 alleged marks and mode of making witches, 
 their habits, and practices, 1561 to 1567. 
 
 Wi'vilscomb, Somerset., ignorance there, 4S1', 
 
 Wolf's eye, its alleged virtues 1433. 
 
 Wolsey, cardinal, 313 
 
 Wood, Anthony, at Thame, 705, 
 
 Woodlark, the, to rear, 459. 
 
 Woodrove, a herb, 710. 
 
 Woodville, or Wydville,, family tomb, 371. 
 
 Worcester, St. Helen's church bells, 453. 
 
 Wotton church, Kent, 943. 
 
 Wren, the, Irish custoita, and legend of, 1608. 
 
 sir Christopher, 245. 
 
 Wyndymote, Mrs., 104. 
 
 Wynne; family, 811. 
 
 Xamine your accounts and conduct daily 
 1417. 
 
 Yannouth, Plowlisk Monday, 67 ; unfortu- 
 nate seat in the church-yard, 254 ; peg- 
 tankard, 484. 
 
 Year, the, last day of, 1613. 
 
 York pancake-bil!, 149 ; inscription on 
 drowned children, 974. 
 
 cardinal, 1014. 
 
 Young, Dr., poet, rector of Wclwyn, altar 
 clt)th for his church worked by his widow, 
 1598. 
 
 YuU-block, 1110. 
 
 Zeuxis, 41. 
 Zodiacal signs, 11. 
 
 Zoological Society, gardens and menagerie, 
 1036. 
 
 11. INDEX TO CORRESPONDENTS. 
 
 A., 879, 1353. 
 
 A. A. R., 425. 
 
 A. G. J., 586, 1121. 
 
 A. 1 , 661. 
 
 Andrews, H. B., 1049, 1142. 
 
 Anonymous, 100, 139, 930. 
 
 A. W., 394, 
 
 A. W. R., 1493. 
 
 Barnes, W., 1172, 1525, 1599, 
 
 B. B. K., 1453. 
 B. I. W., 1474. 
 Brandon, H., 600, 692, 1013 
 B n, J., 317, 444, 467 
 
 557, 830, 1166, 1364, 1611. 
 
 D. A., 364, 431, 462, 545, 
 621, 783, 914, 94,7, 975 
 984, 1007, 1089, 1134, 
 1199, 1263. 
 
 De la MottCj, W. A.,jun. 418, 
 
 450, 738, 1346, 1473. 
 Doowmh, W., 1069. 
 Edwin, J., 1508. 
 
 E. H. B., 1202, 1322, 1406, 
 1591, 
 
 Epsilon, 510. 
 Eumilys, 1318. 
 Fairholt, F. W., 491, 
 
 F. B., 200, 790. 
 Fccialis Peritus, 1323. 
 Geikie, W., 399, 866, 1122 
 
 1359. 
 Gentleman, 100. 
 
 G. J. 1167. 
 
 Gf. S. S., 721. 
 
 Hampton, J. C, 679. 
 
 H. B., 635. 
 
 H. M., 745. 
 
 H. H .v. N., 302. 
 
 1.1047.- 
 
 J. e. B., 638. 
 
 Jennings, Jaines, 445. 
 
 J. F. R., 581, 589, 803, 943, 
 
 1501, 1612. 
 J. Et. S., 730. 
 J. K,, 488, 705i 
 J. K. (South Stoneham), 925, 
 J. L., 1104. . 
 J. L. C, 1489. 
 J. M. of M. H„ 726, 1029. 
 Johnson, Goddard, 11 C 9, 1134. 
 
 J. N., 1345; 
 
 J. T., 1227. 
 J. W., 1255. 
 J. W. B., 1479. 
 Lander, H. W., 1463. 
 Lees, Edwin, 869. 
 M. A., 201. 
 Meggy, Robert, 1613. 
 Milner, Annie, 767, 1276. 
 Mina Hill Row, 1219. 
 Mitchell, James, 1584. 
 Nemo, 1505. 
 Pare, W., 532. 
 Phoenix, J. P., 1526. 
 
 Pilgarlick, 428, 697, 505, 
 
 663, 894. 
 Pipps, P. P., 453, 571, 1268, 
 Prior, J. R., 507. 
 R., 217. 
 R. B., 564. 
 R. R., 559. 
 R. T., 1464. 
 Scatcherd,Norrisson, 414, 500, 
 
 755, 1106, 1118. 
 S. D., 54. 
 SHNTA, alias, Nimble-Heels. 
 
 1537. 
 Sleafordensis, 984. 
 Smith, A. R., 1071. 
 S. R. J., 175, 662. 
 S. S. S., 1230. 
 S_llra— n J— s, 251, 636. 
 T. 1319. 
 
 T.'n.-, 1039, 1426. 
 Trenta, 1554. 
 
 TurnbuU, W. B. D. D., 158. 
 W., 576. 
 W. C. W., 1339. 
 W. D. K., 1608. 
 W. G., 689, 962. 
 Wilton, W., 812. 
 W. M., 1588. 
 Wright, J., 1250. 
 X. X., 190. 
 
III. -INDEX TO POETRY. 
 
 Original. 
 
 A. B., 1414. 
 
 B. I. W.. 1476. 
 Clare, John, 527, 1375. 
 Cleon, 958. 
 
 D. A., 375, 623, 628, 800, 
 
 947. 978, 1135, 1265. 
 Epsilon, 510. 
 J. F. R., 802. 
 J. M. of M. H., 728, 748. 
 tamb, Charles, 355, 1591. 
 Luckcock, J., 996. 
 Moxon, Edward, 1614. 
 Pipps, P. P., 256. 
 Prior, J. R., 131. 
 S. H. S., 295, 674, 995, 1375. 
 Turnbull, W. B. D. D., 856. 
 Young Lady, 1023. 
 • » • 1373. 
 Anonymous, 28. 
 
 AUTirORS CITED. 
 
 Anacrcon, 782. 
 
 Atkinson, T , 1429. 
 
 Bale, 1549. 
 
 Beaumont and Fletcher, 827. 
 
 Bloomfield, 550, 1069. 
 
 Boleyn, Anne, 1231. 
 
 Bom, Bertrand de, 430. 
 
 Brewer, A., 1000.* 
 
 Butler, 1560. 
 
 Bawenburg, 287. 
 
 Byron, Lord, 417, 422, 904 
 
 Carew, 214. 
 
 Chapman, 1055. 
 
 Chaucer, 760. 
 
 Clare, 1, 11, 102, ISO, 138, 
 159, 227, 268, 354, 384, 
 386, 387, 514, 517, 538, 
 614, 631, 633, 642, 745, 
 758, 770, 773, 898; 1026, 
 1154, 1282, 1408, 1410. 
 Coleridge, 136. 
 Collins, 1395. 
 Conrad of Kirchberg, 515. 
 
 WurUburgh, 286. 
 
 Corbet, 1527. 
 
 Coucy, Raoul de, 279. 
 
 Cowper, 146, 360, 543, 547. 
 
 Crashaw, R., 1272. 
 
 Croly, 284. 
 
 Cudmore, D. 261. 
 
 Davison, 78, 1053. 
 
 Delta, 762. 
 
 Dietmar, vonAst, 1114,1246. 
 
 Dorset, earl of, 30. 
 
 Drayton, 196, 407, 644, 1536. 
 
 Drummond, of Hawthorndon, 
 279. 
 
 Dunbar, 92. 
 
 Dyer, 553. 
 
 Egremonf, earl of, 198. 
 
 Fanshawe, R., 308, 644. 
 
 Fawcett, 728. 
 
 Fletcher, P. 266. 
 
 Fox, C. J. 1182. 
 
 Franklin, W., 414. 
 
 Frederic I., emperor, 285. 
 
 Fi^issait, 1120. 
 
 Gay, 1053, 1401, 1485. 
 
 ,Geat. T., 739. 
 
 of York, 1029. 
 
 Godfrey of Nifen, 535. 
 
 Goldsmith, 235. 
 
 Guarini, 644. 
 
 Gwinnett, 632. 
 
 Hahington, 654, 1.385, 
 
 Hemans, Mrs., 282, 719, 768, 
 1226, 1523. 
 
 Henry of Morunge, 288. 
 
 Hcrrick, 154, 647, 762, 896, 
 
 • 1527, 1549, 1558. 
 
 Heywood, T., 276,510. 
 
 Homer, 1165. 
 
 Howitt, W. and M,, 633, 650, 
 918. 
 
 Hunt, Leigh, $ 3. 
 
 Job, 1444. 
 
 Jonson, Ben, 1170. 
 
 King, bishop, 1552. 
 
 Kraft, count, 733. 
 
 Lamb, Charles, 228, 1012. 
 
 Langhorne, 720. 
 
 Lees, Edwin, 1495, 1616. 
 
 Logan, 611. 
 
 Madan, Mrs., 1181. 
 
 Mallett, 694. 
 
 Marvell, A., 1207. 
 
 Marston, 1233. 
 
 Massinger, 1239. 
 
 May, T., 920. 
 
 Middleton, 667. 
 
 Milton, 1531. 
 
 Montgomery, 203. 
 
 Moore, T., 311. 
 
 Naogeorgiis, 44, 789. 
 
 Nash, T., 568. 
 
 Oldham, 1564. 
 
 Opie, Mrs., 1162. 
 
 Orleans, duke of, 197. 
 
 Peele, G., 759. 
 
 Pisan, Christine de, 523, 732 
 
 Pollok, 1036, 1094. 
 
 Proud, J., 813. 
 
 Rogers, 1212, 1485. 
 
 Roscoe, 448. 
 
 Scott, 468. 
 
 Shakspeare, 508, 759, 1535. 
 
 Sidney, sir P., 1198. 
 
 Smith, Charlotte, 1284. 
 G., 1536. 
 
 Southey, 1280. 
 
 Southwell, 299. 
 
 Story, Robert, 1614. 
 
 Surrey, 100. 
 
 Swift, 824. 
 
 Thomson, 28, 1144, 1105. 
 
 Thorn, R. J., 1512. 
 
 Troies, Doete de, 442. 
 
 Townshend, C. H., 735, 938, 
 1143. 
 
 Van Dyk, H. S., 206. 
 
 Ventadour, 473, 477, 479. 
 
 Verrue, Barbe de, 1042. 
 
 Vogelweide 289 to Wi. 662, 
 733. 
 
 Weston, Joshua, 1554. 
 
 Warton, 161 . 
 
 White, Kirke (Rosemary), 40. 
 
 Wither, G., 852, 1404. 
 
 Wordsworth, 38, 750, 760. 
 
 Yoiing, 505. 
 
 Anonymous, 11, 55, 86, 228 
 238, 255, 398, 403, 410 
 516, 524, 645, 657, 731 
 741,896,1133,1194,1317, 
 1338. 
 
 Works cited. 
 Ane compendious boke, 1513 
 Bible Lyricsi, 433, 1166. 
 Cobbe's Prophecies, 836. 
 Cotgrave, 836, 1562. 
 Fire-side Book, 127, 1159, 
 
 1306. 
 Forrest of Fancy, 1358. 
 Hardyng's Chronicle, 987. 
 Knighfs Quarterly Magazine, 
 
 537. 
 Literary Pocket Book, 4. 
 Oxford Sausage, 91, 147, 
 
 1499, 1583. 
 Paradis d' Amour, 1038. 
 Songs for the Nursery, 1009. 
 Spelling Book, 499. 
 Trip to Vauxhall, 868. 
 Two Mansions, 936. 
 T. H., Epistolary L. to U: S, 
 
 74. 
 
JV. INDEX TO THE ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 1 Adam and Eve, Hampstead Road, 47. 
 
 2 Adventure in Sherwood Forest, 802. 
 
 3 Alchemist, 34. 
 
 4 Alder-tree, remarkable, 432. 
 
 5 Alfred and his Mother, — Frontispiece. 
 
 6 Angling Stream in Winter, 1602. 
 
 7 Arch in Gracechurch Street, 1058. 
 
 8 Armorial bearing, Sutton, Surrey, 554. 
 
 9 Arthur's Round Table, 162. 
 
 10 Banfitead Church, Surrey, 552. 
 
 11 Basing House, Hants., 1186. 
 
 12 Baynards, Surrey, 930. 
 
 13 Birchington Church, Isle of Thanet, 1455. 
 
 14 Birth-place of Robert Pollok, 1090. 
 
 15 Boxley, Kent, 626. 
 
 16 Bruce Castle, Tottenham, 111. 
 
 17 Castle, a, 178. 
 
 18 Chair of Sir P. Sidney, 143. 
 9 James VI. 399. 
 
 20 Charlton Church, Kent, 1138. 
 
 21 Chertsey Farthing, 1071. 
 
 22 Chess Play, the oldest print, 271. 
 
 23 . - - - 
 
 24 ■ 
 
 25 ■ 
 
 26 . 
 27 
 28- 
 29 • 
 30 
 31 
 32 
 33 • 
 
 -Queen, by Flaxman, 559. 
 
 -King, 560. 
 
 -Knight, 591. 
 
 -Bishop, 592. 
 
 -Pawn, Soldier, —593. 
 
 Archer, 594. 
 
 —Knights' leaps 
 
 34 Child, a^ reading, 226. 
 
 35 Children in a shower, 498. 
 35 straying, 354. 
 
 37 Chillon, dungeon of, 418. 
 
 38 Chinese Chop, 1583. 
 
 39 Clophill Church, Beds., 783 
 
 40 Cradle of James VI., 399. 
 
 41 Distaff-spinning, 1314. 
 
 42 Domestic Dwarf, 18. 
 
 43 Don, a pointer, 1250. 
 
 44 Dowie's Tavern, Edinburgh, 1122. 
 
 45 Effigy, Camberwell Church, 914. 
 
 46 Elstow Church, Bedfordshire, 975. 
 
 47 Escutcheon at Croydon Palace, 722. 
 
 48 Eton College, 1346 
 
 49 Fobbing Parsonage, Essex, 1199. 
 
 50 Fool-dwarf, mocking, 66. 
 
 51 General Assembly of the Kirk, 1218. 
 
 52 Golden Lion, at Haarlem, 687. 
 
 53 Grotto in the City, 194. 
 
 54 Handwheel -spinning, 1330. 
 
 55 Hawking, 610. 
 
 56 Hiss ! hiish ! — awful soimds, 303. 
 
 57 Jacklin, Cambridge shaver and poet, 1506. 
 
 J. Haddoo, Printer, Castle Street, Fhiibury. 
 
 58 Kingsthorpe, Northamptonshire, 1167. 
 
 59 Kristan von Hamle, 655. 
 
 60 Maid Marian, 834. 
 
 61 Maidstone Church, 370. 
 
 62 Manchester College, 79. 
 
 63 Mausoleum of the Talbots, 546. 
 
 64 May-pole, 527. 
 
 65 MiIler'sTomb,HighdownHill,Sus5ex 1378 
 
 66 Emblem, 1391. 
 
 67 Minster Church, Isle of Thanet, 1522. 
 
 68 Missolonghi, Byron's death-place, 1473. 
 
 69 Months — January, — Farmers regaling.l. 
 
 70 February, — Milkmaid, 130. 
 
 71 March,— Floods, 258. 
 
 72 April, — The nosegay, 386. 
 
 73 May, — Lovers' walks, 514. 
 
 74 June, — Sheep washing, 642. 
 
 75 July,— Mower after labor, 770. 
 
 76 ; — August, — Reaping, 898. 
 
 77 September, — Loadedcorn,1026 
 
 78 October,.^Swine-feeding,Il54 
 
 79 November, — A storm, 1282, 
 
 80 December,— Ciristmas, 1410. 
 
 81 Morris Dancer, 833. 
 
 82 Fool, 847. 
 
 83 New Potatoes ! .882. 
 
 84 Oak in Boxley Abbey wall, 239, 
 
 86 Old Chapel, WMttlesford bridge, 1426. 
 
 86 Palace, Eltham, Kent, 466. 
 
 87 Watering-pot, 754. 
 
 88 Yew tree, Windlesham, Surrey, 738. 
 
 89 Otham Church, Kent, 1263. 
 
 90 Parker, Michael, Milton, Yorks., 815; 
 
 91 Parochial Tobacco Box, 1570. 
 
 92 Pax, by Finiguerra, 322. 
 
 93 ^Framework of it, 327. 
 
 94 Peg-tankard, 482. 
 
 95 Phebe Hassel. Brighton, 210. 
 
 96 Raven Inn, Hook, Hants., 450. 
 
 97 Royal Clarence Vase, 994. 
 
 98 Rush-bearing, 1103. 
 
 99 Sawston Hall, Cambridgeshire, 1039. 
 
 100 Scene of happiness, 671. 
 
 101 Show Jamie, 866. 
 
 102 Stourbridge Fair, Booth, 1528. 
 
 103 Plan, 1542. 
 
 104 Music, 1546. 
 
 105 Thame Vicarage, Oxfordshire, 706. 
 
 106 Tom the Piper, 848. 
 
 107 Travelling Carriage, 98. 
 
 108 Vignette upon an artist's card, 1442, 
 
 109 Vogelweide, fhe minnesinger, 291. 
 
 110 Use of the Divining Rod, .589. ' 
 
 111 Utrecht Fair, 962. 
 
 112 Walton on-the-hill, weathercock, 551. 
 
 113 West Bow, Edinburgh, 1359. 
 
 114 Wotton Church, Kent, 943. 
 
¥^Wv