THE
YEAR BOOK,
OP
DAILY EEOEEATION AND INFORMATION:
CONCERNINO
KEMAEKABLE MEN, MANNERS,
TIMES, SEASONS,
SOLEMNITIES, MERRY-MAKINGS,
FOUMIXO A
COMPLETE HISTOEY OF THE YEAE ;
PERPETUAL KEY TO THE ALMANAC.
BY WILLIAM HONEo
n
WITH ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN ENGRAVINGS,
WARD, LOCK, BOWDEN AND CO.
LONDON: WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C.
NEW YORK : BOND STREET.
MELBOURNE : ST. JAMES'S STREET. SYINEY : YORK STREET.
1892.
0) b
if
^
K^ .
THE
YEAR BOOK
OF
DAILY RECREATION AND INFORMATION
J
CONCERNIKO
REMAKKABLE MEN AND MANNERS,
TIMES AND SEASONS,
SOLEMNITIES AND MERRY-MAKINGS,
ANTIQUITIES AND NOVELTIES,
ON THE PLAN OF THE
EVEIRY-DAY BOOK AISTD TABX^E^ BOOK;
OR
EVERLASTING CALENDAR OF POPULAR AMUSEMENTS, SPORTS, P\STIVIES .yir.E^iU/NIES
CUSTOMS, AND EVENTS, INCIDENT TO EACH OP THE THREE HUNDRED
AND SIXTY-FIVE DAYS, IN PAST AND PRESENT TIMES :
FORMING A
COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE YEAR.
AND A
PERPETUAL KEY TO THE ALMANAC.
BY WILLIAM HONE.
Old Customs ! oh ! I love the sound.
However simple they may be :
Whate'er with time hath sanction found,
Is welcome, and is dear to me.
Pride grows above simplicity,
And spurns them from her haughty mind,
And soon the poet's song will be
The only refuge they can find. Clare.
Wiitft ®ne ?^unUrrti anU J^ouxUm 3Engrabfngs.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG, 73, CHEAPSIDE;
R. GRIFFIN & CO., GLASGOW; Also J. GUMMING, DUBLIN.
1832.
<^
PREFACE.
Alfred the Great was twelve vears 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 and hurries of
government, snatched moments of leisure to read. In the early part of his
reign, he was
Cast from 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
miserv,"
Where iiving 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 forms
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 fetl
The joy of Jthe 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
la 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 thing?.
Convoked by knowledge ; and for his dei^^Tit
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 ar.d nurse
Our faculties, shall fix in calmer seats
Of moral strength, and raise to loftier heights
Of Love Divine, our Intellectual Sout.
Wordsworth.
Alfred became our greatest legislator, and pre-eminently our patriot king
for when he had secured the independence of the nation, he rigidly enforced
an impartial administration of justice ; renovated the energies of his subjects
by popular institutions for the preservation of life, property and order ,
secured public liberty upon the basis of law ; lived to see the prosperity of
the people, and to experience their affection for the commonwealth of tho
^^=^
■t^
klni^tioin ; and died so convinced of their loyalty, that he wrote in hiu last
will, '*'[be English have an undoubted right to remain free as their uwn
tboaglits.'* U 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
poUcj of his government was founded upon ** the beg-inninc^ 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 war^n, and his majesty sat in it holding in his
laul a long stick, having a bit of pointed iron at the top, with which he
goaded a team of oxen ^oked to the vehicle.
Oars is an age of civilization and refinement, in which art has arrived to
ezoellence, and science has erected England into a great work-house for the
whole woild. The nation is richer than all the other nations of Europe, and
disdngnished 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 j the
sadden and fierce outbrcakings 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
situaUonn in life do not require, and means cannot afibrd. The getters and
keepers of money want more and get more ; want more of more, and want
and gct^ 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
j^"«*8j?^in a misery-making craft. Are these '* the English" contemplated
Life's Autumn past, I 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 igngrance
■ than see and hear
The repetitions wearisome of sense,
Where soul is dead, and feeling hath no place;
>Vhere 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 consciousness should dwell,
On i\s own axis restlessly revolves,
Yet no where finds the cheering light of truth.
Most of us mav find, that we have :nuch to vnlearn: yet e'vinndeed
must we be if we ^o not desire that our children may not be Lrse for what
U^y learn from us. and what they gather from their ^nisccUaneous readTnf
In ^lecbDg materials for the Evcry-Day Book, and Table Book I aTmed fj
aTOid what might injure the youthful mind; and in the Year BookZrlt
5r„*H"^r''/K"''"/\'^r '''''^'' ^^ "^'^^ ^'^^'^ -itable to ingenuou
fel • 1 i\ r^ '''^ ^ «"^ ^"^^f «"r«d to supply omissions upon sub-
ini ttl I f'^r^^y ^''^ «"d t^e Table Booki^cre designed to Mude •
and. m that, I have been greatly assisted by very kind correspondent^ '
U, Graceehurcbstreft, January, 1832 11 ONE.
YEAR BOOK
JANUARY.
Now, musing o'er the changing scene
Farmers behind the tavern-screen
Collect ;— with elbow idly press d
On hob, reclines the corner's guest,
Reading the news, to mark agam ^
The bankrupt lists, or price ot gram.
Puffing the while his red-tipt pipe,
He dreams o'er troubles nearly npc ;
Yet, winter's leisure to regale,^
Hopes better times, and sips^^^^ ^^^^^^,^ ^,^^ar.
Vol. IV.
TUE YEAll BOOK.— JANUAllY.
With an abundance of fieslily accumu antiquity, or a man's self. The most
lated materials, and my power not less- bustling are not the husiest. The "fool in
ened, for adventnrinjr in tlie track pursued the forest " was not tlio mi-lancholy Jaques :
in the Evrry-Duy Book, I find, gentle he bestowed the betrothed couples, re-
reader, since we discoursed in that work, commended them to pastime, and with-
Ihal the world, and all that is therein, have drew before the sports bejr.in. My pre-
chan(;ed —I know not how much, nor sent doings are not with the great busi-
whelher to tlie disadvantage of my present ness that bestirs the world, yet 1 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 coming
popular and t»dl 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
liklags, 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 tlieir 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 cuarthly 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 s^emingndleness, with stony eye,
' ' I : *'. \ Sao? 5{ ^lejmorning's touch, like poetry ;
• •'* • 'Antl^'h&n 'of j^ll the fierce and bitter fruit
. , « .•• ^..'Of'the'pre^jad p\anting of a tyrannous foot ; —
', 1 *,-♦ vt • ; Ohf •bjp)S^fdV'gl»ts, and flourishing bad men;
•^ ' ' * ' • ' And virtue wasting heav'nwards from a den ;
Brute force and fury ; and the devilisli drouth
Of the fool cannon s ever- gaping moulh ;
And the bride vsidowing sword ; and the harsh bray
Tlie sneering trumpet sends across the fray ;
And all which lights the ptople-thinning star
That selfishness invokes, — tlie horsed war
Panting along with many a bloody mane.
I've thought of all this pride and all lliis pain
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 consciousness of strength in enemies,
Who must be strained upon, or else they rise ,
The battle to the moon, who all the while
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 a sphere.
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 tells a tale of peace, beyond whate'er was spoken.
*. Literary Pocket Book, 1819.
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 particular 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, and cer-
tain well known plants begin 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 flower
on St. Vincent's Day, January 22d.
The wimer ellebore usually flowers,
in mild weather, about the conversion of
St. Paul, January 25th.
The snowdrop is almost proverbially
constant to Candlemas Day, or the
Purification, February 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
golden stars about St. Perpetua, March 7th.
About March 18th, the Day of St. Ed-
ward, the 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 Marygold is so called from a
fancied resemblance of the florets of ita
disk to the rays of glory diffused by artists
from the Virgin's head.
The violets, heartseases, and prim-
roses, continual companions of spring,
observe less regular periods, and blow
much longer.
About April 23d, St. George's Day, the
blue bell or field hyacinth, covers the
I
THE -XEAR BOOK.— JANUARY.
fields ana uplano 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 abou< St. Philip and St. James,
May lst,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 sliowcrs.
And 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 yetlow 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 and corn lands about St. Barnabas,
June 11th.
The bright scarlet lychnis flowers about
June 24th, and hence a poet calls this
plant Candelabr-um mgenSj 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 or 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
autumnal flowers down to the michaelmas
daisy, and various ancient documents
might be adduced to show a former pre-
vading belief in the influence of almost
every festival on the oeriodical blowing
of plants. Eor, in the middle or dark
ages, the mind fanciest numberless signs
and emblems, which Increase the list of
curious antiquities and poptilar 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 tliat which is most mi.--
vellous.*
THE MONTHS
Januaiiy.
Lo, my fair ! the morning lazy
Peeps abroad from yonder hill ;
Pljoebus rises, red and hazy ;
Frost has stopp'd the village n;ill.
FEnRUARY.
All around looks sad and dreary,
Fast the flaky snow descends :
Yet the rcd-orcast cliirrups cheerly.
While the mitten'd lass attends.
MARCir.
Rise the winds and rock the cottage.
Thaws the roof, and wets the path ;
Dorcas cooks tlie savory pottage ;
Smokes the cake upon the hearth.
April.
Sunshine intermits willi 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.
Schoolboys, in the brook disporting.
Spend the sultry hour of play :
While the nymphs and swains are courljjig,
Seated on the new-made hay.
July.
Maids, with each a guardian lover.
While the vivid lightning flics.
Hastening to the nearest cover.
Clasp their hands before their eyes.
Dt T. Forster*s Perennial Calendar,
THE YEAR BOOK-JANUARY.
August.
Bcc the reapers, gleaners, dining.
Seated on the shady grass j
0*cr the gate the squire reclining.
Silly eyes each ruddy lass.
September.
'Hark ! 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.
Leaves autumnal strew the ground •
Plenty crowns the market measure.
While the mill runs briskly round,
November.
Now the giddy rites of Comus
Crown the hunter's dear delight ;
Ah ! the year is fleeing 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.
Planets.
The Sun. © The Earth.
]) The Moon. $ Mars.
5 Mercury. % Jupiter.
2 Venus. f2 Saturn.
Discovered since 1780.
y Uranus. $ Pallas. ^ Ceres.
^ Juno. [4j Vesta.
Concerning tlie old planets there is suf-
ficient information : of those newly 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 him
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
without a glass, on clear nights, like a
small star of the fifth magnitude, of a
bluish-white color, and considerably
brilliant. To obtain a good view of its
disk, a telescopic power of nearly 200 is
requisite.
Fallas was first seen on the 28th of
March, 1802, at Bremen in Lower
Saxony, by Dr. Olbers. It is situated be-
tween tlie orbits of Mars and Jupiter; is
nearly of the same magnitude with Ceres,
biat less ruddy in color ; is surrounded
with a nebulosity of almost the same ex-
tend ; and revolves annually in about the
same period. But Pallas is remarkably
distmguished rrora 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, tl:e
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.
Jutio. 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.
^ A planet's ascending node.
^ Descending node.
(5 Conjunction, or planets situated in the
same longitude.
Furste
THE YEAR BOOK- -JANUARY.
n Quadrature, or planets situated in
"" loncitudes differing three signs from
each other.
Trine.
^ Opposition, or planets situated in op-
posite longitudes, or differing six
signs from each other.
4( Sextile.
PUAbES OF THE MoON.
Signs of tue Zodiac.
The Sun enters
rf\ ArieSf or the Ram . . . Mar. 20.
^ TaurM*, or the Bull . , April 19
n Cew/i/H, or the Twins . . May 21.
03 Cuncery or ihe Crab . . June 22.
IS Leo, or the Lion . . . July 23.
nU, VirgOf or tlie Virgin . . Aug. 23.
^ Libra, or the Balance . . Sept. 23.
m Scorpio, or the Scorpion . Oct. 23.
): Sagittarius, or the Archer Nov. 22.
yf Capricornus, or the Wild Goat, Dec. 22.
t^ Aquarius, or ihe Water Bearer, Jan. 19.
X Pisces, or llie Fishes . Feb. 1 8.
1) First Quarter
O Full Moon
d Last quarter.
New Moon.
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 g-ilds his horns ;
Castor and Pollux then receive his ray ;
On burning Cancer then he seems to stay ;
On flaming Leo 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.
These twice six signs successively appear,
And mark the twelve months of the circling year.
THE OLDEST CUSTOM
Old customs ! Oh ! I love the sotmd.
However simple they may be :
Whate'er with time halh 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 esteemed by those who
ire enabled to indulge in the practice.
An old Epicure's Almanac happily affords
the means of supplying an Alimentary
Calendar, month liy month, beginning
with the year.
Alimektary Calendar
January. — The present month com-
mences in the joyous season of Christmas
festivity, which, as Sir Roger de Coverley
gooQ-natu redly observes, could not have
btea connived to take place at a better
time.
At this important juncture a brisk in-
terchange of presents is kept up between
the residents in Loudon nnu 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 than the
way-bill of one of the Norwich coaches.
The meats in season are beef \ea]
mutton, pork, and house-lamb; villi
Westphalia and north-country hams, Can-
terbury and Oxfordshire brawn, sslted
chines and tongues.
Besides fowls and turkeys, there are ca-
pons, guinea-fowls, pea-hens, wild-duck5.
widgeons, teal, plovers, and a great vavievy
of wild water-fowl, as well as woodcocks
snipes, and larks.
The skill and industry of the horticul-
turist enliven the sterility of winter w!th
the verdure of spring. Potatoes, savcy
cabbages, sprouts, brocoli, kale, turnirs
onions, carrots, and forced small salladr^
are in season; and some epicures boast o(
having so far anticioated the course of ve-
THE YEAR BOOK.- JANUARY.
getable nature as to regale their friends
at Christmas with asparagus ani green
peas.
There is also an infinite variety of
puddings and pastry, among whicli the
plum-pudding holds^ by national prefer-
ence, the first rank, as the inseparable com-
panion or follower of roast beef: puddings
also of semolina, millet, and rice ; tarts
of preserved fruit, apple-pies, and that
delicious medley the inince-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 IVuits, 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 Oc-
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 an=chovies. 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 laigest. 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 of 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.-
The 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 the 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-
lierds and cottagers on the moors and
commons, where they have been dropped
by the birds during their annual sojour»
ment.
VEGETABLE GARDEN DIRECTORY.
In frosty weather wheel manure to tb;
plots or quarterings which require it.
Protect vegetables, such as celery
young peas, beans, lettuces, small cab-
bage plants, cauliflowers, endive, &c.;
from severe cold, by temporary coverings
of fern-leaves, long litter, or matting
stretched over hoops: remove these cover-
ings in mild intervals, but not till ihj
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 tc
the compost heap.
Destroy slugs, and the eggs of insects.
Dig and trencli vacant spaces when the
weather is mild and open, and tlie 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
d.varf imperial about tlie last week.
Beans; early mazagan and long pods
about the first and last week
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY I.
Lettuce ; in a warm sheliered spot, not
before the last week : choose the h:irily
sorts, as the cos uiid btown 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.
Eurth 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, cliina
rose, or some plant that strikes root
quickly. By this you distinguish y(»ur
rows, and gain a useful or ornamental
shrub for transplantation at leisure.*
Gardens do singularly delight, wht-r. in
them a man doth beliold a Oourishing
show of summer beauties in the midst of
winter's force, and a goodly spring of
flowers, when abroad a leaf is not to be
seen. Gerard.
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,f 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." 4io.
" A New-Year's-Gift to be presented to
the King's most excellent Majestic : with
a petition from his loyale Subjects, 1646."
4to.
** Pomcstic Gardener's Manual .
t In the Every- Day Book.
" The complete New-Year's Gift, or
Religious Mcdiiations, 172.1." l2nio.
** The Young (it ntleman's New-Year's
Gift, orAdvic^e 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 I^dy I'arvula, to the Lord Minimus
(commonly called little Jefiery), 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
Jeffery Hudson, who, in the reign of
Charles I., was a celebrated dwarf, and
had been ridiculed by Sir W illiam Dave-
nant, in a poem called JeflfreidoSjConccrning
a supposed battle between Jeffery and a
turkey-cock. Sir Walter Scoit hai re-
vived the popularity of the little hero by
introducing iiim into"Pevereloftlie 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 1.
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 Dunkivkers, and despoiled of many
rich presents to the queen from her mother
Mary de Medicis: he lost to the value or
£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
Jeff'ery to have been resc-ued from the en-
raged turkey-cock by the courage of the
gentlewoman he escorted. Jeffery 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 domestics of
the palace. One of his tormentors was
TflE YEAR BOOK.— JAN UAllY 1.
THE DOMESTIC DWARF.
FROM AN ENGRAVING IN WIERIX'S BIBLE, 1594.
;the king's porter, a man of giganticrheight,
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-
presentation of them in a well-known
bas-relief, on a stone affixed, and still re-
maining,in the front of a house on the north
side of Newgate Street, near Bagnio Court.
Besides his misadventure witli 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 qireen to France,
where he received a provocation from Mr.
Crofts, a young man of family, which he
took so deeply to heart, tliat a chalienge
ensued. Mr. Crofts appeared on tlie
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 tlie spot, lie
remained in France till the restoration,
v/hen 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 ot
Jeffery Hudson than his stature, it is said
that he remained at the height of eighteen
inciies till he was thirty, when he shot up
to three feet nine inches and there fixed.
Ilis 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.f 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 at the
head of this page.
PlgHll€S.
Among vulgar errors is set down this,
that there is a nation of pigmies, not above
* Granger. Walpolc's Paiulcrs.
Fosla-oke's Eucyclopsedia of Antiquitic*
X M-mlaignc.
THE YEAR BOOK.— JAN UARY 1.
two or ihree feet lugb, and tliat they so-
lemnly set themselves in battle to rtght
Oi^ainst the cranes. "Slrabo thought this
a tiction ; and our age, which lias 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 drive ftway the cranes which flocked to
thoir^ country in the winter. They are
pourirayed 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
witli a line.f
Cremes.
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 vvitli 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."
ROYAL NEW YEAR GIFTS.
In 160.5, the year after prince Henry
presented his 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 lime 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 year the
Earl of Huntingdon presented and re-
ceived a new year's gift. His own words
record the method of presenting and re-
ceiving it.
* Brand. t Fosbroke.
t Peggcs' Form of Curey, vi. $ FobItoIp
" T/ic wuniicr of pnstnfitig a 'New-yerc\
iiiftc to his Majtstic from l/ie Eurle of
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 mornii>g
about 8 o'clocke, and deliver the purse
and the gold unto my Lord Ciiamberlain
then you must go down to the Jewell-
house for a ticket to receive xviii.s-. vi(/. as
a gift to your pains, and give \\d. there
to the boy for your ticket ; then go to
Sir William Veall's office, and sliew your
ticket, and receive your xviiis. vi(/. '1 hen
go to the Jewell-house again, and make
a piece of plate of xxx ounces weiglit,
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 Ws. and
to the porter vi(/."*
PEERS 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. Ad.; if only a
servant to the king, £5.
To the servant bringing the queen's
new-year's gift £.3. Qs. Qd.
To the servant of his son-in-law, bring-
ing a new-year's gift, 13s. Ad.
To the servant bringing a new-year's
gift from l)is lordship's son and heir, the
lord Percy, \2d.
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 my lord's chamber door, 20s. viz.
13s. Ad. for my lord and 6s. Qd. for my
lady, if she be at my 'ord's finding, and
not at her own. And for playing at my
lord Percy's chamber door 2s., and 8f/ 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, os. Bd.
To the grooms of his lordship's cham
ber, to put in their box, 20$.
Michols's Progresses
10
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 1.
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-yeor'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. Sd. 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-
uigj^'each of them 3s. 4rf.*
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 of silver embossed, to reflect the
li'^'ht ; on one side of which were the sun,
moon, and planets, and on the other side
the story of the birth and passion of Christ
" as it is found graved by a king of Scots
[David II.] that was prisoner in Notting-
ham." Sir John 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. Bark well observes of
this New-year's lantern, that " it was
evidently fabricated at a moment 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 writmg
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 watchings 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 spring 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 me 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
required all fires to be extinguished by a
certain hour.
hanterns.
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 carrying a lan-
tern in his "hand. The dark lantern of
tlie Roman sentinels was square, 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 apparently an 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 hved.
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-
thou
ber amuse-
ment that may be preferred.
The decorations of the confectioners*
shops remain till twelfih-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.
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; 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 parlies 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
plaintiff 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
a copy to as many confectioners as chose
to purcliase one. Issue hereupon was
again joined, and «'>o'«"Pr verdict in favor
of the poet estabbsued his right of sell-
ing and reselling bib mottoes (ci bon-bons
to all the confectioners in the universe.
MEMORY GARLANDS.
[For the Year Book.']
Years may roll on, and manhood's brow grow
cold.
And life's dull winter spread its darkening
pall
O'er cherish'd hopes ; yet time cannot with
hold
A precious boon wliich mem'ry gives to
all:—
Fond recollection, when the talc is told
Which forms the record of life's frstival,
Recals the pleasures of youtli's openmg scene.
And age seems young — rcmemb'ring what
hath been.
Even as children m 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 wc ; for ours
Are kindred feelings : we as gently throw
Our mem'ry garlands on the closing grave
Of joys we lov'd — yet,loviug, could not save
NOTE.
Annexed to this, and every day through-
out the year, will be found the time of
dny-break, sun-rise and sun-set, and the
end of twilight, derived from a series of
tables purposely compiled for the present
work.
To these daily notices are frequently
added the flowering of plants, the arrival
and departure of birds, and other indications
of the time of the year, according to the ave-
rage time of their appearance,as stated iuDr.
Forster's " Encyclopredia of Natural Phe-
nomena," upon the authority of a private
manuscript journal kept for fifty years.
January
Tlie black nellebore, and sweet colts-
foot, are in full flower, if the weather be
open.
ho. m.
Day breaks .
. 1 6
Sun rises . .
. 8 4
sets . .
. 3 56
Tvviljoht ends .
. 5 59
14
THE YE^R BOOK.— JANUARY 2.
On the 2d of January, 1756, about four
o'cl'^ckiij \h> 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 streamors "rossed 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 tliat 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 ; cnsweeping first
The lower skies, they all at once converge
High to the crown ol heaven, and all at once
Relapsing quick, as quickly reasccnd.
And mix, and thwart, extinguish and renew.
All ether coursing in a maze of light.
T/iomson.
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 Farthorne's the fine en-
graver of old English portraits, whither
he had gone to buy some pictures, " comes
by the king's iife-gnard, 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 Dorset's sea song.
On the 2ud of January, 1665, Mr. Pe-
pys went by appointment to dine with
♦ Gents. Mag. xxvi
Lord Brouncker at his house in liie
piazza Covent garden. lie says, " I ro-
CGived 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 sparkling
verses of this pleasant song float into a
tune in the reading. Here it is :—
SONU.
Wrilten at Sea, in the first Dutch Wui
he night before an emjagemeut.
16^5.
To all you ladies now at land.
We men, at sea, indite ;
But first would have you understand
How liard it is to \vTite ;
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 kind,
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 teats 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 who've left their hearts behind
With a f:s &c.
Let wind and weather Ao 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.
15
THE YEAR BOOK. -JANUARY 3.
To pas« our teilious hours away,
Wc throw a merry main ;
Or else at serious ombro play;
But why should we io vain
Each other's ruin thus pursue ?
We were undone when wo left you.
With a fa, &c.
But now our fears tcmpcstous 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, &c.
When any mournful tunc 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 tmcs w^erc 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 happintss ;
All those designs are but to prove
Ourselves more worthy of your love.
With a fa, &c.
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-
Kerous. 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 t})e rest. "For the honor
we bear the clergy, we cannot but wish
this true," says Sir Thomas, "but herein
will be found no more verity than the
other."
ho. m,
January 2. — Day breaks . . 5 59
Sun rises ... 8 4
sets . . . 3 56
Twilight ends ..61
Tbe rising of Gemini, achronically, takes
place.
.Tan. 3, 1805, Charles TownUy, Esq., of
Townley, in Lancashire, died at tlie age of
67. lie 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.
The Etruscan antiquities had been de-
scribed some years before, in two vols.4to.,
by M. D'Ancarvilie.*
ALCHEMY.
On the 3rd of January, 1652, Mr
Evelyn, being at Paris, visited a certain
Marc Antonio, an ingenious enameler.
"lie told us great stories," says Evelyn,
" of a Genoese jeweller who liad the great
arcanum, and liad made projection before
him several times, lie met him at Cyprus
travelling into Egypt, on his return from
whence he died at sea, and the secret
with him — all 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 person of very low stature
came in and desired the goldsmitli 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 fo 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
ail the city fo'* 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 tell
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 Ilelvetius in
his " Brief of the golden calf; dis-
covering the rarest Miracle in Nature,
how, by the smallest portion of the Philo-
sopher's Stone, a great piece of common
lead was totally transmuted into the purest
transplendent gold, at the Hague in 1666."
The marvellous account of Ilelvetius is
thus rendered by Mr. Brande.
* Gents. Mag, Ixvv.
IG
TEE YEAR LOOK— JANUARY 3.
ALCHEMIST.
« The 27th day of December, 1666, in
the 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 born in JNorth Holland.
After salutation he beseeched ine, 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
^lim 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
^aw 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 bosum-
pouch a neat ivory box, and out of It three
ponderous lum'ps of stone, each about the
bigness of a walnut. I greedily saw and
tandled, for a quarter of an hour, this
most noble substance, the value of vvhicli
might be somewhat about twenty tons of
gold ; and, having drawn from the owner
many rare secrets of its admirable effects,
I returned him this treasure of treasures^
with most sorrowful mind, humbly be-
seeching him to bestow a (ragment of it
upon me, in perpetual memory of him,
though but the size of a coriander seed.
No, no, said he, that is not lawful, thougl.
thou wouldst give me as many golden
ducats as would fill this room; for it
would have particular consequences ; 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 h \d a private
chamber whose prospect war 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 upcn a green riband, and which
very much excelled mine in flexibility and
color, each being the size of a small
Vol. IV,
17
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 4.
trencher. I now earnestly ngmi ( raved
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, the day before, I had secretly scraped
off a bit with my nail, which 1 projected
on lead, but it caused no transmutation,
for the whole Hew 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 mc, who know
the rudiments, and theref'>re 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 1
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 goldsmith, who judged it
most excellent, and willingly offered fifty
florins for each ounce."
h. m.
Jimuury 3. — Day breaks . . 6 59
Sun rises • . 3 6
— sets . . . . 3 C7
Twilight ends ..61
The laurentinus flowers, if mild.
The Persian fleur de hs flowers in the
house.
g^amtati) 4.
Tennis, S^c.
On the 4th of January 1664, Mr. Pepy?
went " to the tennis-court, and there saw
the king (Charles II.) play at tennis.
But," says Pepys, " to see how the kings
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 sucli
open flattery is beastly.* Afterwards to
St. James's park, seeing people play at
pall mall."
Pull-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 to
play in this ally; for it is of a reasonable
good length, straight, and e\en."-|- Again,
" a stroke with a pail-mail bettle up:.n a
bowl makes it fly from it." % Yet, Evelyn
speaks twice of Pall-mall, as a place for
playing in ; although he calls such a place
at Toms' a mall oniy.§
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 flaggoii of ale and apples,
drunk out of a wood cup, as a Christmas
draught, which made all merry.''
Cups.
About thirty years before Mr. Secretary
Pepys took his Christmas draught ♦• out
• For Tennis, &c., see Strutt's Sports and
Pastimes of the People of England, by \V.
Hone, 8vo., p. 93.
t French Garden for English Ladies, 1621.
X Digby on the Soul.
§ Concerning the Sport called Pall-Mail,
sec Strutt's Sports, 8vo. p. 103.
18
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 4.
of a "^ood cup," a writer says, "Of
drinking cups divers and sundry sorts we
havp ; 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
poitle 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
citie and suburbs, tip't with silver, besides
the great black jacks and bombards at the
court, which, when the Frenchmen first
saw, they reported, at their returne into
their 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 Indies and
other places, and shining like mother of
pearle. 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
it 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 m an old
p/ay,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.
X The City Madam.
$ A Marriage Present by Roger Hackctt, D. D.
1607 4to., cited by Brand
mary is for married men, the which, by
name, nature, and continued use, man
challengeth as properly belonging to him-
self. It overtoppeth all the flowers in the
garden, boasting man's rule: it helptth
the brain, strengtheneth the memory, and
is very medicinal for the iiead. Another
property is, it aflects the heart. Let thin
ros marinus, this flower of man, ensign
of your wisdom, love, and loyalty, be
carried, not only in your hands, but in
your heads and hearts."
At a wedding of three sisters together,
in 1360, we read of " fine flowers and
rosemary strewed for them, coming home;
and so, to the father's house, where was a
great dinner prepared for his said three
bride- daughters, with their bridegrooms
and company."* Old playsf frequently
mention the use of rosemary on these oc-
casions. In a scene immediately before a
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.:^
In another we find " 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 my best vore-horse." || It was an
old country custom to deck the bridal-bed
with sprigs of rosemary .1[
Rosemary denoted rejoicing. Hence
in an account of a joyful entry of queen
Elizabeth into the city of London, on the
14th of January, 1558, there is this passage :
" How many nosegays did her grace 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 branch of rosemary, given
to her grace, with a supplication by a poor
woman, about Fleet Bridge, wa* seen in
her chariot till her grace camp to West-
minster."
It is a jocular saying, among country
people, that, where the rosemary-bush flou-
* Slew's Survey, by Strype.
t Cited by Brand.
I Elder Brother, a Play, 1637, 4to.
§ Woman's Pride, by Fletcher.
U Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub.
% Brand.
19
THK YEAIt BOOK.— JANUARY 4.
rishes in tne cottage garncn, " the grey
mare is the better horse ;" that is, tlie wife
manages the hushand.
Shiikspeare intimates the old popular
applications of this herb. It was esteemed
as stren;:thenini; to tlie memory ; and to
that end Oplielia 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 Komeo, " Doth not rosemary and
Uomeo 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 I'aris, with musicians, on
Juliet's intended bridal, enter her cham-
ber, and lind her on the bed, surrounded
by the Capulcl 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 the 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
therose.Tiary branches dipped ?"-}• 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
• Dckker's Wonderful Year, 1603, 4to.
t Beaumont and Fbtthcr's Scomfu Lady«
1616, 4to.
servant prescMts 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,f requests
If there be
Any so kind as to accompany
My body to the earth, let there not want
For entertainment. Prithee, sec 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 blooi. At the fimeral of a
country girl, it is said, that.
To show their love, the neighbours far and
near
FollowM with wistful looks the damsel's bier;
Sprigg'd rosemary the lads and lasses bore.
While dismally the parson walkM before ;
Upon her grave the rosemary they threw — X
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 KOSEMAUY.
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 songj
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 desert gloom
A sweet decaying smell.
Come, pressing lips, and lie with mc
Beneath the lonely elder 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 fli«s.
Moans hollow in the forest trees.
And, sailing on the gusty breeze.
Mysterious music dies.
• Misson, p. 91. t Cartwrights' Ordinary.
X Gay's Shepherd's Week,
20
IHE YEAE BOOK.- JANUARY 5.
Sweet flower ! that requiem wild is mine.
It warns me to the lonely shrine.
The told 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.
January 4.-
-Day breaks .
Sun rises
— sets . .
Twilight ends
The screw moss fructifies.
h. m.
5 .58
8 3
3 57
6 2
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 5th 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 those artists who, after the accession of
James I., arrived and establislied them-
selves in England and practised a skilful
management of the chiaro-scuro. His
portr?.its were admired for great elegance
of attitude, and remarkable resem-
blance.
It was fortunate for the arts that kmg
James had no liking towards them and
let them take their own course; 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 undisgraced.
Zeuxrs, 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-
iodorus had obtained to be esteemed.
Zeuxis invented the disposition of light
and shadow, arid was distinguished 1"or
coloring. He excelled in pajnting females ;
his most celebrated production was a pic-
ture of Helen, for which 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 pen^jl 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 from
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-
Walpole's Painters,
Ba^yle.
21
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 6.
ringuished personages, in which they were
imitated by the Romans. The frieze of
the Parthenon is supposed to represent
portraits of Pericles, Phidias, Socrates,
and Alcibiades. Nero caused to be exhi-
bited a portrait of himself on a canvas
120 feet high.
fection of the apothecaries can etinal their
excellent virtue. But these delights are in
the outward senses ; the principal delight
is in the mind, singularly enriched with
the knowledge of tliese visible things,
setting forth to us the invisible wisdom
and admirable workmanship of Almighty
God."
The Anglo-Saxons illuminated their man-
uscripts with miniatures; from this prac-
tice of illuminating we derive the word
limning, for painting. The term illumina-
tor was corrupted to limner. 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 Eyck of Bruges, who died
in 1442, but oil was used in the art iong
before he lived. Our Henry III. in 1236
issued a precept for a wainscoated room
in Windsor Castle to be " re-painted, with
the same stories as before," which order
Walpole parallels with the caution of the
Roman Mummius, to the shipmasters who
transported the master-pieces of Corinthian
sculpture to Rome — "If you break or
spoil them,' he said, "you shall tind
others in their room."*
Our old herbalist John Gerard, in dedi-
cating his " Historie of Plants" to the
great Secretary Cecil, 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 have 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
ddight may provoke men's labor, what
greater delight is there than to behold the
earth apparelled with plants, as with a robe
©f 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
slants, and so comfortable, that no con-
• Andrews Forbroko.
)i. m.
January 5. — Day breaks . . . 5 58
Sun rises ... 8 2
— sets .... 3 58
Twilight ends . . (3
The bearsfoot, HelUborusJ'atidus, flowers.
Bannarv 6.
Epiphany — 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 nightcs then from Christmassc,
they do count with dilligcncc,
Wherein cche maister in his house
doth burne by franckenscnce :
And on the table settcs a loafe,
when night approcheth nere.
Before the coles and frankeusence
to be perfumed there :
First bowing downe his heade he standes,
and nose and eares, and eyes
He smokes, and with his mouth reccyves
the fume that doth arise :
Whom foUowcth streight his wife, and doth
the same full solemly.
And of their children every one,
and all their family :
Which doth prescrue they say their tectli,
and nose, and eyes, and eare.
From euery kind of maladie,
and sicknesse all the ycare.
When every one receyued hath
this odour great and small.
Then one takes up the pan with coales,
and franckenscnce and all.
An other takes the loafe, whom all
the rcast do follow here,
And round about the house they go,
with torch or taper clere.
That neither bread nor meat do want
nor witch with dreadful charnie,
Hauc power to hurt their children, or
to do their cattell harme
22
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 6.
There are that three iiightes onely do
perfourme this foolish gcare,
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
Vn., are set forth in Le Neve's MS.
called the lloyalle Book, " to the following
effect: —
As for Twelfth Day the king must go
crowned 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 forthebody must bring it to the king
in a fair kercheif, and the king must 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 tiie arch-
oishop of Canterbury by clerk or priest the
king's offering that day ; and then must
the archbishop give the next benefice that
falleth in bis gift to the same messenger.
And then the king must change his mantle
when he goeth to wTat, 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 hftid 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 Iiead.
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 Eccles. Hist.
shall come for it with their staves in then
hands ; the king's sewer and the queen's
having 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 anou
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, associates
with some of my fondest remembrances.
• Antiq. Rep.
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY *
^ib^T
THE ADAM AND EVE, IIAMPSTEAD ROAD.
These premises are at the corner of the
llampstead Road, and the New Road to
Paddington, which is the site of tlie old
manor house of Toten Hall. This was a
lordship belonging to the deans of St.
Paul's Cathedral at the tinrie of the Nor-
man conquest, fn 1560 it demised to
the crown, and 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, to
the prebendary of Tottenham. Contigu-
ous to the Adam and Eve, and near the
reservoir of the New River Company, in
the Hampstead road, there was lately
standing an ancient house, called, in va-
rious old records, King John's Palace.
The Adam and Eve is now denomin-
ated a coffee-house, and that part which
has been built of late years, and 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 h.ouse standing
alone, with spacious gardens m 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; now there is
a town.
At that time the " Adam and Eve Tea
Gardens" were resorted to by thousands
as the end of a short walk into the coun-
try ; and the trees were allowed to grow
and expand naturally, unrestricted by art
or fashion, which then were unknown to-
many such places as this, and others in
the vicinage of London. At that lime,
too, there was only one Paddington stage.
It was driven by the proprietor, or, ra-
ther, tediously dragged, along the clayey
road from Paddington to the city, in the
morning, and performed its journey in
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 l"
24
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 6.
Twelfth Dai/ lesumed.
Some noiion 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
liad borrowed from the tower, being as
many as filled four carts. The king
(Jam.es 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 di-awn
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 £lOO
(the year before he won £1500). The ladies
also played very deep. I came away when
the duke of Ormond had won about £lOOO
and left them still at passage, cards, &c., at
other tables : both there and at the groom
porter's, observing the wicked folly and
monstrous excess of passion amongst some
losers; sorry I am that such a wretched
cu«stom 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 witk 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-
plete Gamester, 1 680," thus :— "Passage is
a game at dice to be played at but by iv/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
fund, as also the place where the game is
played, is called the Pass-bank, f
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 : —
• Nichols'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-
lously 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, bustle, 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
THE YEAR BOOK-JANUARY 6.
scafiblding along the sides of the streets
are filled to crushing, w'nh maskers, and
country folk in iheir gala dresses (by f.r
the most grotesque that the carnivs-:
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 linos 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 Trench marquises;
but, above all, by the hired jobs of the
hudaudi and pizzicaroli of Home. These
form not the least curious ind 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'
ririi 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 stich
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
tlie 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 ; smali
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 .'s further
urged by the shouting of the populace.
At the sound of the trumpet (the signal
for starting), even at the approach of the
officer who gives the order, the animals
exhibit their impatience to be off, an'*
they continue their race, or rather their
flight, 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 therp
is a masked carnival at the aliberte.
Twelfth Day Table Diversion
John Nott, editor of the Cook and
Confectioners' Dictionary, 1726, describ-
ing himself as late cook to the dukes of
Somerset, Ormond, and Batton, and the
lords Lansdown and Ashburnham, 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, m former days, when good house-
keeping was in fasliion amongst the
English nobility, they used either to
begin or conclude 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
full 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
THE YEAR BOOK.-.TANUARY 6.
would set a stag, made of paste, but hol-
iow, 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 before.
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 upright 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 of coarse paste, filled with bran, and
washed over with saffron and the yolks of
■eggs: when these were baked, the bran
was taken cut, a hole was cut in the bot-
tom of each, and live birds put into one
and frogs into the other; then the holes
were closed up with paste, and the lids
neatly cut up, so that they might be easily
taken off by the funnels, and adorned with
gilded laurels.
These being thus prepared, and placed
in order on the table, one of the ladies
was 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, having turned the
chargers, the other sides were fired off, as
in a battle : this causing a great smell of
powder, the ladies or gentlem.en took up
the egg-shells of perfumed water and
threw them at one another. This pleasant
disorder being pretty well laughed over,
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 the candles.
And so, with the leaping of the frogs below,
and the flying of the birds above, would
cause a surprising and diverting hurly-
burly amongst the guests, in the dark.
A.fter 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
fcr diverting discourse.
Subtilties.
The art of confectionery was anciently
employed in all solemn feasts, wiih the-
most profuse delicacy. After each course
was a " subtilty." Subtilties wpre re-
presentations of castles, giants, saints,
knights, ladies and beasts, all raised in
pastry ; upon which legends ar.d coat
armor were painted in their prope? colors.
At the festival, on the coronaiion of
Henry VI., in 1429, there was "asubtilty
of St. Edward, aud St. Louis, armed, and
upon either, his coat armor; holding
between them a figure of king Ilenry"^
standing also m his coat armor; and an
incription passing from both, saying,
* Beholde twoe perfecte kynges vnder one
coate armoure.'"*
WALSALL DOLE.
[Communicated by S. D.]
The following account of a penny dole,
given formerly on twelfth day, at Walsall,
in Staffordshire, is derived from '' An
abstract of the title of the town of Wal-
sall, in Stafford, to valuable estates at
Bascott, &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 them 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
• Fabyan — Dallaway's Heraldic Inq. 182.
27
THE YEAR BOOK -JANUARY 6.
divers inhabitants ot the town of Walsall,
in trust, and so it continues in the hand
of trustees to tliis day. In 1539 the first
mention appears to have been made
of the penny dole. On the twelfth
eve, beinjj the anniversary for the souls of
Thomas iMoseley, and Margaret his wife,
the bellman \vent 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 feofl'ment 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
these valuable estates, wliich 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 cf 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 l*eter 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 Thoma.-r
Moseley, passing through Walsall, on
twelfth eve, saw a cliild cryinij fur breavl,
where otliers 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 sadness*
h. in.
January 6. — Day breaks ... 5 57
Sun rises. ..81
— sets .... 3 5^
Twilight ends ..63
The weather either very cold or verv
wet.
CHRISTMAS OUT 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.
My wife has found out that the sea is genteel ;
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 J"rom the top of the cliff;
Till winds from all quarters oblige me to half.
With sand in my eyes, and my mouth full of salt :
Yet, still, I am suffering with folks of renown—
For nobody now spends his Christmas in town.
28
THE ^EAR BOOK- JAN CTARY 7.
The ^vind 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.
Sannavv! 7.
St. Distaff's Day.
The day after Epiphany or Twelfth day
'was called St. Distaff's day by country
people, because, the Christmas holidays
iiaviiig ended, good housewives resumed
the distaff and their other industrious em-
ployments
Plough Monday
(Ts 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 Gleat\-
ings of the Idiotismes and 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 " Plowlick
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/' f
Sivo7-d Dance.
There is a curious account of the Svvord
Dance in Olaus Magnus's History of the
Korthern Nations. He says that the
Northern Goths and Swedes have a sport
♦ By Anih. Roiley 1646. 4to.
t Sheridan's Pcrsius, 1739, p. 67.
wlierein 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 swordi
held erect as before : afterwards, extending
them fiom hand to hand, they lay hold of
each other's hilts and points, and, while
they arc wheeling more moderately round
and changing their order, throw them-
selves into the figure of a hexagon, which
they call a rose: iDUt, 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 songj
(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
• Brand.
t See also Stiutt's Sports 8 vo. p. 2U.
29
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 8.
been" says Mr. Brand " a frequent spec-
tator of this dance, which is now, or was
very lately, performed with few or no al-
terations in Northumberland and the ad>
joining counties: one difl'erence 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 YORKSHIHE PLOtCII-DAY
It is the custom in the North Riding of
Yorkshire, when a new tenant enters on a
farm, for his neij^hbours to give him what
is called a plougli-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 bulter, 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 miglity 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.
Junuari/ 7. — Day breaks ... 5 57
Sun rises ... 8
— sets .... 4
Twilight ends ..63
Groundsel in flower, and more or less,
daily, throughout the year.
• This account, extracted from Miss Hut-
ton's *' Oak ward Hall" is obligingly communis
ratt'd by a known and greatly respected cor-
respondent who autheuiicatcs tlic fact.
On tne 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 vain and 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-porter's, 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- porter's batter'd bullies play»
Some dukes at Mary-bone bowl time away.
T/ie Groom Fortcr.
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, dice, 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's chambers, and
the duties of the officers, in which is set
forth " the roome and service belonging
to a groome-pcrter to do," to the following
effect : — First, a groom-porter 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, sises, and
other lights for the king's chambers; he is
*'urther to see that the kee))er sweep and
clean the floors, walls, windows, and roofs
of all dirt and cobwebs, before any of the
king's staff come within the said chambers :
wherefore he hath his fee.f
The groom-porter's is referred to as a
place of excessive play, in the statutes of
Eltham, for the governmt>nt of the privy-
chamberof Henry VIII., i» the seventeenth
year of his reign, 1525, )r 6. One of
these ordinances directs f'at the privy-
chamber shall be " kept ho p.«tly " in the
Present state of G. Brita.j), 1735.
t Autiq. Rep. iii. 20
30
THE YEAK BOOK.— JANUARY 9.
king's absence, by such as are appointed
to be there, " without using immoderate
or continual play of dice, cards, or tables
therein : howbeit, the king can be con-
tented that for some pastime, in the
abser>ce of his grace, they shall and may
use honest and moderate j)lay;" but
" that the said chamber be not used by
frequent and intemperate play, as the
groom-porter's house."*
h. m.
January 8. — Day breaks ... 5 56
Sun rises . . . 7 59
— sets .... 4 1
Twilight ends ..64
The yellow tremella found on old
palings.
^mixmxvi 9.
" OXFORT) KIGllT 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." f From this university tract
we are acquainted with the method of
making
Egg-possety alias Egg-Jlipf
otherwise, in college language, " rum
booze." — Beat up well the yolks of eight
eggs, with refined 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,
•nto 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.
> Published ia Oxford, by Mr. Skitter, and
la London, by Messrs Longman, and Co
42 pages, royal 18mo.
All must be kept well stirred with a
spoon, 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 spoiled.
Ilu7n Fustian
is a " nigiit-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, whirh may happen
some time or other, he neither concerns
himself how nor when, lie 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 . .
. 5 56
Sun rises . .
. 7 59
— sets . . .
. 4 1
Twilight ends .
. 6 4
The redbreast sings.
• De Foe, Wilson's Life, iii, 116.
31
THE YEAR BOOK— JANUARY 10.
IIODIN RtDBllCAST.
The beaulifiil and brave little Robin,
^rhiifler of i\\e choir of song-birds, ad-
t*nces first, and alone, to give the earliest
^reetinj; to the new year, with 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,"
{erking his sweet tones upon the stillness.
n a walk before the grey of evening
it is a still higher gratification to find him
•** far from the haunts of care-worn 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
fdace of devotion :— winning the child-
ike passenger to contemplation and
'thanksgiving —
*' And now another day is gone
iI'U 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 hired 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
lied them further into the wood and left
them, saying, he would bring them food
when he came back — and how
Those pretty babes, with hanil in hand.
Went wandering up and down
But never more they saw the man
Approaching from the town ;
ThcJr pretty lips wi(h bladk-berries
Were all besmear'd and dy'd.
And, when they saw the darksome night,
They sat thom down and oried.
Thus wandered these two pretty babcs^
Till death did end their grief j
In one another's arms tlicy died.
As babes wanting relief :
No burial these pretty babes
Of any man receives.
Till Robin-rcd-breast painfully.
Did cover them with leaves.
No one that knew this ditty in child-
hood can forget the vernal burial of the
infants by " Robiu-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 w^ood,we must
infallibly be delighted with the appear-
ance of tiiis story of infancy in the 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.
Sanuarj) lo.
1645. At the age of seventy-one, Wil-
liam Laud, archbishop of Canterbury,
was beheaded on Tower-hill, four years
before Charles I. met the same fate at
Whitehall. The circuinstances wlijch 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 lo the trouble-
some times in which he lived and died.
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 to
lead him, by the facility of his temper
into a conduct which proved fatal to that
prince and to his kingdom.
32
THE YEAR BOOK— JANUARY 10.
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 jour-
ney into a far country, and there wasted
his substance with riotous living."* The
original engraving, by C.de Malery, repre-
sents the Prod it; al 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 his 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
exem]?iifying the fact, that formerly fools
were kept at taverns to amuse the cus-
tomers, before whom they exhibited with
a Jews-harp and joint-stool, and some-
times sang in the Italian manner. Re-
specting tavern-fools, and every other
class of fools, Mr. Douce affords the
• Luke XV. 13.
largest information in his " Illustration o.
Shakspeare, and of ancient manner ,
1807," 2 vols, 8vo; which is becoming a
work of rarity, and is to a literary antiqua-
rian, an indispensable acquisition.
Laud and prynne.
There was a memorable prosecution in
the star chamber, in which Laud bore a
part, against a book called " Ilistriomas-
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 il
were a sort of bulls ; and grunt out a
base, as it were a number of hogs :" and
yet this book appeared in the age nf
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 passmg
through the press. It is a closely pnnted
quarto volume, of nearly 1100 pages;
though, originally, it consisted of only a
Vol. IV.
33
THE YEAR BOOK.- JANUARY 10.
quire of paper, which Prynne took to
Dr. Goodf, a licenser, wlio 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
i;>rinted ; but it was since grown seven
tinies 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,orso 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
with the license of the archbishop's chap-
kin, 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 ofi at each place, to pay a fine
of £5000 to the king, and to be impri-
soned for life.
The sentence was carried into effect,
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, Westmm-
ster, Prynne steadily ascended the scaffold,
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. Come ; 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, but, witen
it was finished, smiled, and exclaimed,
" Tlie more 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 latm
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 rcfcrens insignia Lutijit
Exultans remco, victiina ^rata 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
London 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 wa.«?
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 could
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
which 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, 1
tendered him one pair of the gloves,
which he refusing, I 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."
Laud was brought to the block, and
Prynne in his writings, and in parlia-
ment, consistently resisted oppression from
34
THE YEAE BOOK.-.TANUAKY 10.
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 transactions
between the king, the houses, and the
army, from the beginning of the parlia-
ment : its delivery kept tlie house so long
together that the debates lasted from Mon-
day morning till Tuesday morning. He
was representative for Bath, and had the
honor to be one of the excluded members.
On the 21st of February, 1660, he was al-
lowed to resume his seat. While making
his way through the hall, wearing an old
basket-hilt sword, he was received with
shouts. The house passed an ordinance
on the 1st of March for 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 " ilistriomastix"refers
to more than a thousand different authors,
and he quotes a hundred writers to fortify
his treatise on the " Unloveliness of Love
Locks." In the first-mentioned work he
marshalled them, as he says, into " sq*uad-
rons of authorities." Having gone through
" three squadrons," he commences a fresh
chapter thus: " The fourth squadron of
authorities is the venerable troop of 70
several renowned ancient fathers;" and
he throws in more than he promises, quot-
ing the volume and page of each. Lord Cot-
tington, one of hi? 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 than he hath considered." Mil-
ton speaks of Prynne as having had " his
wits lying ever beside him in the margin,
to be ever beside his wits in the text."
Readers of Prynne's works will incline
to the judgment 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 his
ears at Westminster and Cheapside, " his
volumes were burnt under his nose, which
almost suffocated him." Yet who can
doubt that the fumigation from such a
burning was a reviving savor to Prynne's
spirits under the suffering, and a stimulant
to further and similar purposes and en
durance ?
Prynne was a man 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 the 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 under every power at
the head of affairs, and suffered ten im-
prisonments. In admiration of his earn-
est honesty, his copious learning, and th«
public persecutions so unmercifully inflict
ed upon him, Charles II. dignified him with
the title of " the Cato of the Age." At
the restoration it became difficult to dis-
pose of " busie Mr. Prin," as Whilelocke
called him. The court wished to devise
something for him " purposely to employ
his head from scribbling 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 Prynne
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 sor-
Hi
THE YEAl^ BOOK-JANUARY 11.
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 1006 : it is said that of
the first volume cnly 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 "AthenjB Oxoniensis." An ac-
count of him is in the late Mr. Ilargrave'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." lie was born in 1606 and died
in 1^6)9 ; and, supposing that he com-
menced authorship in arriving at man's es-
tate, he is computed to have written a sheet
a day *
Jant/at-y 10.— Day breaks .
Sun rfses . .
— sets . .
Twilight ends
Linnets congregate.
h. m.
5 55
7 57
4 3
6 5
B^nnav^ li.
1753 Sir Hans Sloane, a celebrated
physician and botanist, died at the age of
93. lie was a native of Killi'.eagh 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, and 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 minutes into hours.
He was the first learned man whom science
had tempted from England to that dis-
tant quarter of the globe. On returning
♦ Hunie. Calamities of Authors. Granger.
Seward. Pepys.
in May 1689, and, settling in London, he
became eminent in his profession, and m
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 ihe 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 appointmerU
of physician general to the army, which he
held till 1727, when he was made physi-
cian to George IL, and, being honored with
the 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 eacli.
Sir Hans Sloane had begun early hi 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, with
an account of his voyage, in two folio
volumes, which was productive of great
benefit to science, and excited emulation
to similar pursuits both in England and
abroad. From a catalogue in this work,
it appears that his library and museum, in
1725, contained more than 26,200 sub-
3G
THE YEA.R BOOK.— JANUAEY 11.
gects of natural history, exclusive of 200
volumes of preserved plants ; 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 iiis museum, and
there he received, as he had in Lond«^.,
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 expired 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 £lOO 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
Foundling Hospital. In 1721 he 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 17.59 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
bequests of a like kind. Within a few
years restrictions that were vexatious have
been relaxed, additions made to the build-
ings, and further improvements and al-
terations are now in progress.
The following pleasantry on Sir Hans
Sloane's ardor in collecting as in a print
ed tract entitled.
" An epistolary letter from T
II; to Sir H S , who saved his
life, and desired him to send over all the
curiosities he could fiiid in his Travels.'**
An Epistolary Letter, ^c.
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 t)ie western land,
For curious things of every kind.
And send you all that I could find ;
I've ravaged air, earth, 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 Phoebus' 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 ;
Which after searching kingdoms round
At last were in a cottage found.
An antidote, if such there be,
Against the charm of flattery.
I ha'ut 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 Nicknackatory.
I only wish, whene'er you sh«w''em,
Yoii'U tel' your friends to w horn you owe *em.
Which may your other patients teach
To do as has done Yours,
T. H.
h. m.
J«/»^flr^ 11.— Day breaks . . 5 54
Sun rises . . 7 56
— sets ... 4 4
Twilight ends. . 6
The farmer may now look for Iambi,
♦ London, 1720, fclio.
37
THE YEAR BOOK. -JANUARY 13.
g^anuAii) 12.
COLD.
The greatest cold in our climate is lo-
Mr;irds the middle of January ; and, from
observations made by Mr. Howard with
a thcruiometer near London, during twenty
successive years, from 1797 to 18 IC, the
12th cf January seems to be the coldest
day of the year. The mean temperature
of the day for that period was 34" 45'.
Ladies, if tliey please, may exercise
and warm themselves in cold weather.
Tn the reign of Henry IIL (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 poet, in the
reign of Charles L, 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 saw. The ancient book entitled
*' The Ascension of Isaiah the Prophet ''
accords with this tradition. It says,
*' Then they seized and sawed Isaiah the
son of Amos with a wooden saw. And
Manassch, Melakira, the false prophets,
the princes, and the ])eople, all stood
looking on. But he said to the prophets
who were with him before 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 addressing himself to the Holy
Spirit, until he was sawn asunder."
The book called the "Ascension 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 Althiopic MS. at the
shop of J. Smith, a bookseller in White-
horse Yard, Drnry Lane, which proved
to be this apocryphal book. Dr. Lau-
rence printed the Ethiopic text with a
• Fosbroke's British Monarhisir. ?'i4
Latm translation, and another in Engltsn,
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 tlie learned up-
wards of a thousand years, is so remark-
able, that mention of it in this place may
perhaps be excused.
h. m.
January 12. — Day breaks . . 5 53
Sun rises ... 7 55
— set3 ... 4 5
Twilight ends . G 7
The blackbird sings.
3)iiiiuar|) 13.
MARRYING DAY.
Pond, an Almanac for 1678— amphfiea
with "many good things both for pleasure
and profit " — inserts the following notice as
belonging to these pleasurable and profit-
able things; —
" Times prohibiting Marriage.
" Marriage comes in on the 13th day of
January, and at Septuagesima Sunday it
is out again until Low Sunday; at which
time it comes in again, and goes not out
until Rogation Sunday; thence it is for-
bidden until Trinity Sunday, from whence
it is unforbidden till Advent Sunday; but
then it goes out and comes not in again
till the 13lh 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 an-
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 the heart.
* Ascensio Tsaiae vatis, npusculum pseud
epigrapLum, &c., et cum versione Latina Ang-
licanaque public! juris factum a Ricardo Tmu*^
rencc, LL. J)., &c., Oxon. 1819.8vo
38
THE YEAR BOOK.-JANUARY 13.
Levinus j^emnius, speaking of the ring-
anger, says, that " a small branch of the
Wtery 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 affects
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 this, 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."
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
ring upon the fourth finger of his spouse's
left hand ?" it is answered, "there is no-
thing more in this than that the custom
was handed down to the present age from
the practice of our ancestors, who ^ound
the left hand more convenient for such or-
naments than the right, because it is less
employed. For the same reason they
chose the fourth finger, which is not only
less used than either of the rest, but is
more capable of preserving a ring from
bruises, having this one peculiar quality,
that it cannot be extended but in com-
pany with some other finger, while the
rest may be singly stretched to their full
length and straightness."
Some married women are so super-
stitiously rigid, in their notions concerning
their wedding ring, that neither when they
wash their hands, nor at any other time,
will they take it off their finger ; extend-
ing, it should seem, the expression of
*' till death us do part," even to this
golden circlet, the token and pledge of
matrimony.
There is an old proverb en wedding
rings, which has no doubt beru many a
time quoted for the purpose of encourag-
ing and hastening the consist tA a diffi-
dent or timorous mistress ; —
*' As your 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 rincrs
twisted with three gold-wires), at the
marriage of one of his maid-servants, to
the value of £4000."
Davison, in his " Poetical Rhapsody,**
has the following beautiful
SOX NET
Vpon sending his Mistress a Gold-Ring
with this poesie : —
" PURE 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 h
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
stain.
Hath it no end ? so endless is my Love,
Unless you it destroy with your disdain.
Doth it the purer grow the more *tis tried ]
So doth 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 by your more
trying.
And yet increaseth in the purifying.*
Petrarch, speaking of beautiful pictures,
says " If these things that are counterfeited,
and shadowed with fading colors, do so
much delight thee, cast thine eyes up to
him that hath made the originals; who
adorned man with senses, his mind with
understanding, the heaven with stars, and
the earth with flowers ; and so compare
real with visionary beauties."
h. m.
January 13. — Day breaks . .
5 52
Sun rises . . .
7 54
— sets . . •
4 6
Twilight ends .
8
The wall speedwell flowers.
The throstle sings.
• Urand.
39
THE YEAR BOOK.~JANUAilY 13
THE COLLEGE, MANCHESTER.
Manchester, the seat of cotton mills,
manufactories, and meclianical 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 a^id 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-
tices 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 neir 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
the parish church of Manchester collegiate.
The college consisted of a warden and
eight fellows, of whom two were parish
priests, two canons, and four deacons,
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 ot
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 tabernacle 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
V\., 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 tha
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.
Ilumplirey Chetham, by his will dated
40
i
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUAllY 13.
16 December, 1651, made provision for
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. lie directed
that they should 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 for the
children, and for the use of the library.
For commencmg 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 Laihoni
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 fn 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 Turton 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 ruin-
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 wa.s 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; insomuch 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 Ilartly 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-sira-
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
£lOO 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, u.at we
may dazzle the eyes of the Papists with
the light of Protestant good works."— And
41
THE YEAR BOOK.-JANUARY 13.
know, reader, I am beholden for my
exact information herein, to my worthy
friend Mr. Johnson, late preacher of the
Temple, and one of the Feoffees ap-
pointed by Mr. Chetham, for the uses
aforesaid."
ghost stories, ballads, prophecies, Christ-
mas carols, and other wonders and de-
li
" what 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 whicii
purpose he turned every thing into money,
and solicited subscriptions in all quarter? .
The Jansenists were jealous of his ender-
voursand his success. On paying his duty
to the archbishop of Paris, when thj t
prelate took possession of the archbishop-
ric, the rector was surprised to find thrt
he had been accused of having carried on
trade, for which the archbisliop 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 breik end pile up the ice, which I
sell to furni.sh them with subsistence in
these hard times." " Oh," said thp prelate.
" I don't understand it in that manner, and
you sell a great deal, I find." " Not so mucl ;
as I should, "said tlie good rector, " i/"
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.
* Polyantbca, ii. 379.
4c;
THE YEAE BOOTC.-JAXCARY 19.
A TRAVELLING CARRIAGE.
Forty years ago, six miles an hour was
reckoned fair speed for a siage 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,
published in the early part of the reign of
Louis XVL, 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
^rag leisurely. Instead of glasses there
are leathern curtains, which unfurl from
the top, 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
<>f his landing to the metropolis, by a con-
veyance 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
from 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
anotiier 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*
Hetiry Howard, Earl of Surrey, a
scholar and a poet, " a rnan" 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
* Sobicre's Voyage to England, 1709. 8vo,
Vol. IV,
49
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 20.
high aJmlra. of Kngland : in compliment
to Henry V'lll., he had been made ad-
miral of Spain by ihe 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 conscience,
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 following
morning.
Among the " noble authors" of his
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 Gerald ine," whose
identity has escaped discovery. He re-
turned home the most elegant traveller,
the most 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, de-
generated into metrical chronicles or
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 LOVE.
Wherein he reproveth them that compare
their ladies with his.
Give place, ye lovers, here before
That spent your boasts and brags in vain :
My lady's beauty passeth more
The best of yours, I dare well sayne,
Th.TJ\ doth the sun the candle light.
Or brinhte-.t day the darkest night.
And thereto hath a troth at jiut
As had Penelope the fair :
For what she saith ye may it trust.
As it by writing sealed were ;
And virtues hath she many moe
Than I with pen have skill tu 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 fhe did cry '
And what she said, I know it, I.
I know she swore, with raging mind.
Her kingdom only set apart.
There was no loss, by law of kind,
1 hat could have gone so near her heart
And this was chiefly all her pain
She could not make the like again.*
h. m.
January 19. — Day breaks . 5 46
Sun rises ... 7 47
— sets . . . 4 13
Twilight ends 6 14
The gold crest sings.
Ssinnavp 20.
John Howard, the philanthropist, died
at Cherson, in Russia, on the 20th of
January, 1790. He was born in 1726,
and, devoting his life to active benevolence,
made " a circumnavigation 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
Original Jitter from Mr. Howard.
Culogn, 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 wen! into Switzerland, so to Turin
and the northern part of Italy. As winter
travelling so bad in Italy 1 returned into
France and went to Holland, and early
in the Spring I sett out and visited the
* Another stanza closes tliis poem. Par-
ticulars rcspcctinor the Earl cf Surrey and liis
works are in Warton's History ct" liu^jlish
Poetry, Svo. iii. 288 ; Walpole's Royal and
Koblc Authors by Paih, 8vo. i- 255. i»<
50
THE YEAR BOOK.—JANUARY
21.
Soutiiern part of France and crost tne
Apennine mountains, which indeed are
very bad, for miles often not above a
three foot road, 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 Palaces 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 rejoices his lott is not cast
among them. The Heat was excessive
both at Naples, Rome, and V^enice. 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. 1 was at Venice
within this month: the heat beyond any
thing felt in England. I have much ado
since I have been travelling in Germany
to keep my great coat off. I went to
Loretto, where so many of our Country-
men went Pilgrimages in the t-me of
darkness. Ignorance, and folly. Should I
try to describe to you the Superstition
and folly one hears and sees you would I
am afraid almost think your friend took
the Irberty some travellers do — their
creeping on their knees round their pre-
tended holy chamber, kissing the dust,
makeing maraculus Cakes of it, which I
know are wonderfully viasty. 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. I enjoy
A comfortable state of Health. The mi-
serable shifts I have often been put to,
and being algne makes it still a greater
happiness. A calm easy flow of spirits,
but somewhat fatigueing in this Country.
As I have not my own Carriage, which is
very expensive, am forced to travel one
or two nights together. The roads
very bad, the Post Stages always going
night 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 my best Respects, and tell
Her a rambling disposition is not conta-
gious when I come to Her house, where
I licpe to have the pleasure of drinking a
dish of lea next Winter. I must conclude
with much Esteem, I am Dear Sir Your
Affectionate Friend and Relation,
J. HoVfARIi.
Fro Bruxelles,
To Mr. Hamilton,
Merchant,
In Cateaton Street,
London.
Maxims, by Howard.
Our superfluities should be given up
for the convenience of others;
Our conveniences should give place to
the necessities of others ;
And even our necessities give way to
the extremities of the poor.
h m.
January 20.— Day breaks 5 45
Sun rises ... 7 46
- sets ... 4 14
Twilight ends . 6 15
The missel thrush, or mavis, sings.
Sanuatg 21.
WINTER.
Cottage Stories.
The dame the winter night regales
With winter's never ceasing tales ;
While in a corner, ill at ease.
Or crushing 'tween their father's knee ,
The children — silent all the while.
And e'en repressed the laugh or smile—
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 wtll :
Till the old clock, that strikes unseen.
Behind the picture-painted screen.
Counts over bed-time, hour of rest,
And bids each be sleep's fearful guest.
She then her half-told tales will leave
To finish on to-morrow's eve —
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 ;
Nor speak a word ' but, still as sleep,
rhey secret to their pillows creep.
And whisper o'er in terror's way
The prayers they dare no longer say ,
Then hide their heads beneath the clothes.
And try in vain to seek repose.
Clare.
A GHOST STORY.
At a town in the west of England a
club of twenty-four people assembled
THE YEAR BOOK.-JANUARY 22.
unce a week to drink punch, smoke to-
bacco, and talk politics. Kach member
had his peculiar chair, and the president's
was 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 was a vacant chair, which 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 hmiself to inquire for him,
and reported to the club that he could
not possibly survive the night. This dis-
mal tidings threw a damp on the company
l^hey 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 wiiite, 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. "1 here was scarcely room
for doubt before, but now there was absolute
certainty of the reality of the apparition.
The story spread over the country, and
wis 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
story had ceased to engage attentior. atd
vas almost forgotten, when cce of the
club, who was an apothecary, in the course
of his practice attended an old woman,
who gamed her living by nursing sick per-
sons. Shewasnowill herself, and, finding
her end near at hand, ihe told the apothe-
cary she could leave tlie world with a
good conscience, evcept 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 tl.ot 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 shivering, 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, peihaps 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. "
h. m.
January 2i. — Daybreaks . . 5 44
Sun rises ... 7 45
— sets ... 4 15
Twilight ends . 6 16
The black hellebore fully flowers.
gilanuarg 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, Tanuary 22.— Died in Emanuel
hospital, Mrs. Wyndymore, cousin of
Mary, queen of William III., as well as
of queen Anne. Strange revolution of
fortune ! that the cousin of two queens
fehculd, for fifty years, be supported by
charity f " * Of this lady there does aot
* Relics of Wtc/atcre 804,
52
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 23.
appear to be any printed account. A per-
son of leisure might be interested by in-
quiring into the real affinity wiiich this
female, who died in an alms-house, bore to
two sovereigns on the throne of England.
January 22. — Day breaks
Sun rises ,
— sets
Twilight end
h. m
5 43
7 43
4 17
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-Day Book, i. 151.
B^nnavp 23.
THE COUNTRY.
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, and manners, that
can be looked into — and all the belter 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.
The Village Carpenters 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 any thing she pleases ; is absolutely
irresistible. 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
rujis to meet you, slides her pretty hand
into yours, looks up gladly in ycur 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 ! Yes,
Lizzy is queen of the village I "
FROST.
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, in
spite of the thermometer ; no perceptible
air, but a stillness that might almost be
felt: the sky, rather groy 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 cominiy. No I The key
63
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANt/ AR V 2S.
ra turning m the door, and sounds of evil
omen issue through the key-hole — sturdy
Met me outs', and * I wi'l gos', mixed with
shrill cries on May and on me from Lizzy,
piercing through a low continuous ha-
rangue, of which tlie prominent parts are
apologies, chilblains, sliding, broken
oones, lollypops, rods, and gingerbread,
from Lizzy s careful mother. * Don't
scratch the door. May ! Don't roar so, my
Lizzy ! We'll call for you as we come
back.' — ' III go now ! Let me out ! I will
go!' are the last words of Miss Lizzy,
Mem. Not to spoil that child— if I can
help it. But 1 do think her mother
might have let the poor little soul walk
with us to-day. Nothing worse for child-
ren than coddling. Nothing better for
chilblains than exercise. Besides, T don't
believe she has any ; and, as to breaking
her bones in sliding, I don't suppose
there's a slide on the common. These
murmurinij cogitations have brought us
up the hill, and half-way across the light
and airy common, with its bright expanse
of snow and its clusters of cottages, whose
turf fires send such wreaths of smoke sail-
ing up the air, and diffuse such aromatic
fragrance around. And now comes the
delightful sound of childish voices, ringing
with glee and merriment also from beneath
our feet. Ah, Lizzy, your mother was
right ! They are shouting from that deep
irregular pool, all glass now, where, on
two long, smooth, liny slides,half a dozen
ragged urchins are slipping along in tot-
tering triumph. Haifa dozen steps brings
us to the bank right above them. May
can hardly resist the temptation of joining
her friends ; for most of the varlets are of
her acquaintance, especially the rogue
who leads the slide, — he with the brimless
hat, whose bronzed complexion and white
flaxen hair, reversing the usual lights and
shadows of the human countenance, give
so strange and foreign a look to his flat
and comic features. This hobgoblin, Jack
Rapley by name, u May's great crony ;
and she stands on the brink of the steep
irregular descent, her black eyes fixed full
upon him, as if she intended him the fa-
vor of jumping on his head. She does ;
she is down, and upon him : but .Tack
Rapley is not easily to be knocked oft his
feet. He saw her coming, and in the mo-
ment of her leap sprang dexterously off
the slide on the rough ice, steadying him-
self by the shoulder of the next in the file,
which unlucky follower, thus unexpectedly
checked in his career, fell plunrip back-
wards, knocking down tne rest of the line
like a nest of card-houses. Theie is no
harm done; but there they lie roaring,
kicking, sprawling, in every attitude of
comic distress, whiUt .Tack Rapley 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 may as well come up
again, and leave master Rapley to fight
your battles. He'll 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 almost as well as she
does. * Come May !* and up she springs,
as light as a bird. The road is 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 ! Hooded,
veiled, and bonneted, as she is, one sees
from her attitude how miserable she would
look uncovered
.Another pond, and another noise of
children. More sliding? Oh I no. This
is a sport of higher pretension. Our good
neighbour, the lieutenant, skaiting, and
his own pretty little boys, and two or
three other four-year-old elves, standing
on the brink in an ecstacy of joy and
wonder! Oh what happy spectators!
And what a happy performer ! They ad-
miring, he admired, with an ardour and
sincerity never excited by all the quad-
rilles and the spread-eagles of the Seine
and the Serpentine. He really skaits well
though, and 1 am glad I came this way;
for, with all the father's feelings sitting
gaily at his heart, it must still gratify the
pride of skill to have one spectator at that
solitary pond who has seen skaiting be-
fore.
Now we have reached the trees — tht
beautiful trees', never so beautiful as to
54
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 23.
day. Imagine the effect of a straight and
regular double avenue of oaks, nearly a
mild long, arching over head, and closing
into perspective like the roof and columns
of a cathedral, every tree and branch en-
crusted with the bright and delicate con-
gelation of hoar frost, while and pure as
snow, delicate and defined as carved ivory.
How beautiful it is, how uniform, how
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 paint-
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 furze 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
brigiit prickly holly, the pendant foliage
of the bramble, and the deep orange leaves
of the pollard oaks ! 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 beautiful and rare
crested wren, * that shadow of a bird,' as
While of Selborne calls it, perdied 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 slendet 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 magnificent plumage
of scarlet and blue flasning in the sun,
like the glories of some tropical bird. He
is come for water to this little sprmg by
the hill side,— water which even his 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 yray
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 the little keen bright eye fixed on the
windovv ; 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 !' She has
frightened away the kingfisher; and now,
in her coaxing penitence, she is covering
me with snow. —
Mumility.
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 him to say what he wanted.
The good father answered, « I want, my
lord, a better tumbiil 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.*
Ji/nMory 23.— Day breaks . 5 41
Sun rises . . 7 41
— sets ... 4 19
Twilight end J ; 6 19
The wren sings.
• Our Village, by Miss MitforJ, Vol I. p. 9
27, &c.
• Seward.
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 23
BBUCE CASTLE, NEAB TOTTEiSHAM.
This ancient edifice is about five miles
from London, by tlie way of Stoke New-
ington, 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 Waltlieof, who, in 1069, married
Judith, niece to William the Conqueror,
who gave him for her portion the earldoms
of Northumberland and Huntingdon.
Their only daughter, Matilda, after the
death of her first husband, married Da-
Tid L, 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 TIL, 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 ultin.ately was ad-
judged heir to the crown. Upon this
adjudication Robert Bruce retired to En-
gland, and settling on liis grandfather's
estate at Tottenham High Cross, repaired
the castle, and, acquiring an adjacent
manor, named it and the castle Bruce.
The above engraving, after another from
a view taken ni 1686, represents one of
the four towers of the ancient castle.
This tower is still standing, together with
the house.
Bruce Castle became forfeited lo the
crown, and had different proprietors. Irr
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 estates 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 Bruc^
Castle. In 1792 Mr. Townsend sold his
estates, and Bruce Castle is now 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 aa ao
5G
THE YEAK BOOK,- -JANUARY 25.
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
Hazlewood School, 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.
^annatp 24.
Until 1831, Hilary Term usually began
about this day: of St. Hilary, there is an ac-
count in the Ever^-Dai/ 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.
TEMPLAniA.
On the Two Figures of a Horse and a Lamb, over
the Inner Temple Gate.
As by the Templar's holds you go.
The horse nnd lamb, display'd
In emblematic figures, show
The merits of their trade.
That clients 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.'*
Answer.
Deluded men, these holds forego,
Nor trust such cunning elves ;
These artful emblems tend to show
Their clients, ixot themselves.
'Tis all a trick : these arc but shams.
By which they mean to cheat you j
For have a care, you arc the iambs.
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 you.
h. m.
January 24. — Day breaks . . 5 40
S>>n rises ... 7 40
— sets ... 4 20
Twilight ends . 6 20
The blue titmouse, or tomtit, sings.
The green titmouse, or ox-eye, sings
HJanuari? 25.
WINTER NIGHT CAP.S.
One of the best night caps in use at the
University of Oxford is "a Bishop,"— a
delicious winter bevernge 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 of 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 on « Ancient Fragment,"
co-eval with his work, the following lines:
Three cups of this a prudent man may take ;
The first of the.se for constitufiou'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 ♦hat
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 manner 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-
tition.
Bishop.
Make incisions in the rind o^ a lemon,
stick cloves in the incisions, and roast the
lemon by a slow fire. Put small but
equal quantities of cinnamon, cloves,
maee, and allspice, and a race of ging-^r,
57
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 26.
Into A saviccpan 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
roastebacon, and the mantle -piece with guns
and fishing-rods of various dimensions,
accompanied by the broad-sword, par-
tizan, and dagger, borne by his 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.
In the corner, by the fire-side, stood a
large wooden two-armed chair with a
cushion ; and within the chimney corner
were a couple of seats. Here, at Christ-
mas, he entertained his tenants assembled
round a glowing fire made of the roots of
trees, and other great logs, and told and
heard the traditionary tales of the village
respecting ghosts and witches, till fear
made them afraid to move. In the 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.
0attuat» 30.
" This being the anniversary ot king
Charles's Martyrdom (in 1649), the Royal
Exchange gates were shut till twelve
♦ Grose
Gl
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 31
o'Ciook, when thej were opened for public
business.** Courierj 30 Jan. 1826.
Andersons Scots' Fills.
"Dt. PatrickAnderson, physician to Charles
I., was the invenlor of this well-known
medicine. In the Vaye-stone *♦ land" of a
house in the I^wn-market, opposite to
the Bowhead, Edinburgh, it has been sold
for upwards of a century past. The se-
cond Hat 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 pills 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 the 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 dress, with a book in his
hand ; while Miss Lillias, a precise-look-
ing dame, displays between her finger and
thumb a pill, nearly as large as a walnut;
which says a great deal for the stomachs
of our ancestor** "*
h. m.
fanuary 30. — Day breaks . . 5 32
Sun rises ... 7 30
— sets ... 4 30
Twilight ends . 6 28
If the Velthemia Capensis has escaped
the frost, it may be expected to flower.
Sannavp 31.
LAW TERMS.
On this dayliilary Term ends, according
to an act 1 William IV. cap. 70, which
• Traditions of Edinburgh, I. 255.
enacts that in tiie year 1831, and after-
wards —
Hilary Term shall begin on the 11th,
and end on tlie 31st of .January.
faster Term shall begin on the 15th
of April, and end on the 8ih of May.
Trinity Term shall begin on the 22nd
of May, and end on the r2th of June.
Michaelmas Term shall begin on the
2nd and end on the 25ih of November.
This act therefore provides that the Law
Terms shall begin and end on days cer-
tain ; that is to say, on the days above-
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 of such
intervening days, but the Term 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."
Laiv and Lawyers.
Lawsuits were formerly as much pro-
longed by legal chicanery as now; and
to involve persons in them 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 thf
British Museum, there is an English MS
written about or before the year 1200,
containing a satirical ballad on the law
vers, f
Montaigne was no friend to the pro-
fession. With ample possessions he had
no law-suits. " I am not much pleased
with his opinion," he says, " who thought
by the multitude of laws to curb thf
authority of judges, by retrenching them
We have more laws in France than in al
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 lau-
* Fosbroke's Ency. of Anuq.
t Warton's Hist. English Poetry, I. 3?.
62
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 31.
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,
cunnot, 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 rule or prescription, nor
any certain inteligence. As the earth is
made fertile the deeper it is ploughed and
harrowed, so they, by starting and splitting
of questions, make the world fructify 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
ours, according to occurrences, and by
sight, without obligation of example and
consequence ? Every shoe 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. lie tells
what he calls "-4 pleasant st07y against
the practice of lawyers. — The baron of
Coupene in Chalosse, and I, have between
us the advowson of a benefice of great
extent, at the foot of our mountains,
called Lahontui. It was with the inha-
bitants of this angle, as with those of
the vale of Angrougne ; they Jiv^d 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 which they submitted without
other constraint than the reverence due to
custom. This little state had continued
frore all antiquity in so happy a condition
that no neighbouring judge was ever put
to the trouble -f enquiring into their
quarrels, no advocate was retained to giv»
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 niankind, that they
might not corrupt the purity of their own
government; till, as they say, one of
them, in the memory of tlieir fathers,
having a mind spurred on with a noble
ambition, contrived, in order to biing 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 offended by sawing
off the horns of one of his she-goats, to
make his complaint to the king's judges, —
and so he went on in this practise till
he spoiled all."
In 137fi 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 books
and papers belonging to the students at
law. a
In 1454 by an act of parliament, recit
ing that there had formerly teen only six
orVght attorn ies 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 tliat
thereafter there should be but six for
Suffolk, six for Norfolk, and two for the
city of Norwich.* There are now above
seventy attornies in Norwich 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
♦ Andrews's Hist. G. Brit. i. 388.
t Noorthouck's Hist. London, 17.
J Andrews, ii. Hist. 149.
^ Baker's Chronicle, 1605, p 3S9.
63
THE YEAR BOOK.— JANUARY 31.
Harness,
Armour was formerly called harness,
which is in low Dutch " harnass," in
FVench " arnois," in Spanish " arn^s."J
Thus, Sluikspeare says,
Ring the alarum-bell ; blow wind ! come
wrack !
At least we'll die wiih harness on our back.
Macbeth.
Ahhougli in strictness, and according to
ancient usajjje, the Christmas 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 tl.i-*
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 j —
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 v.ishes ; -
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
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 j—
MinshAB.
To the story told
By the gossip old,
O'er the embers dimly gloNving,
While the p:«ltcrin>; 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 car ascending;-—
To all pleasant ways.
In those ancient days.
When the good folks knew their station ,
When God was fcar'd.
And the king revered.
By the hearts of a grateful nation ; —
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. I", 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.
Jaiuary 31.
— Day breaks .
5 31
Sun rises . .
. 7 29
— sets . .
. 4 31
Twilight ends
. 6 29
The days now lengthen very ptticeplibly.
64
TflE YEAR BOOK.—FEBRUAllY.
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 February the sun attains considerable
power, and finally dispels the cold of
winter. Thaws dissipate frost and ice;
the atmosphere teems with humid vapours ;
rains descend, and frequently continue dar-
ing successive days ; brooks become torrents^
and rivers c-verflow their banks and sheei
the plains.
Vol. IV.
65
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY.
Now s)i\fting gales wilh milder influence 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 sVrfcamiH
Table of the Monthlj/ Averages of Ram.
MONTHS.
FnOM TO
IROM TO
FHOM TO
1797—1806
1807—1816
1797—1816
January
2011
1-907
1-959 in.
February
1-320
1-643
1-482
March
1057
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
Au2:ust
2-117
2-134
2-125
September
2-199
1-644
1-921
October
2-173
2-872
2-522
November
3-360
2 637
2-998
Decembei
2-365
2-489
2-427
Totals . . .
24-435
25-179
24-804
Toe 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,
Uy the surge of the welkin that roars from the
pole.
And the deep ho'low murmurs of winter that
roll,
I've the moonshme to guide mc, the frost to
restram,
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 hardeu'd, by wet I'm destroy'd.
And, united with liquid, to Ocean decoy'd.
I have sisters of ether, have brothers of rime.
And my fricudships are formed in the northerly
clime.
My foes are the elements jamng with stnfe ;
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
rcgign'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 into 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, may 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.
C6
if
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARy.
Tlie 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; 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 obser\ation
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
the spring crocus, which on an average
blows about February 5th, and continues
throughoiit 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 qolden yellow,
with chocolate stripes; and the Scotch,
or white striped. The blue, the red, ai »!
the white hepatica, or noble liverworts,
flower, and brave the cold and changing
weather. All these, disposed in clunps,
alternating with snowdrops, crocuses, and
hellebores, give to a well-conducted gai*.
den a very brilliant aspect :
Crocuses like drops of gold
Studded on the deep brown mould.
Snowdrops fair like Sakes of snow.
And bright liverworts now blow.*
Alimentary Calendar.
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 fgg
sauce ; but epicures mortify on princtJy
turbot plainly boiled, or stewed with wii;e,
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 adm.issible 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 Directorv.
In fair and open weather, during the
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 rugar-
loaf, to succeed the main crops ; also, «
* Dr. Forster's Ency. Nat. Phenonipo*.
67
THE YEAR BOOK-FEBRUAUY 1.
liltle rea cabbage ; ali about the last week.
Spinach; once or twice.
Mustard and cress, for sallad; every
week.
Plant
Rooted offsetsf, or slips of mint, balm,
8;ige, rue, rosemary, &c.
Tranxplani
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.*
The attempered organ, that even saajrst
thoughts
Mix with tome sweet sensations, like harsh
tunes
Played deftly on a ioft>toncd Inslrumont.
Coleridye.*
God Almighty first planted a garden ,
and, indeed, it is the purest of human
pleasures; it is the greatest refreshment
to the spirits of man, without which
buildings and palaces are but gross han-
dyworks. Bacon.
On observing a Blossom on thp
First op February.
Sweet flower ! thai peeping from thy russet
stem
Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange sort
Itis dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chat-
tering month
Hath borrowed Zephyr's voice, and gazed upon
thee
With blue voluptuous eye) alas poor flower '
These are out flaUeries 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 cf too, loo rapid growth.
Nipped by consumption mid untimeiy charras ?
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
Song Birds.
The singing of birds before the spnngmg
of flowers, and the bursting of buds, comes
like the music of a sweet band beh>re 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 cluid
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 liltle girl's chief deliglit.
In this month the birds flock in, fast
heralding the spring. Young readers will)
like to know about them, and at convenient
iimes 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 the 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 from
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 sa/ 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 the
• Extracted from " The Poetical Works of
S. T. Coleridge, including the dramas of
Wallenstein, Remorse, and Zapolya," col-
lected and elegantly printed in '6 vols, pub-
tished by Pickering.
THE YEA.E BOOK.— FEBRUARY 1.
upper surface of his whole body, and the
superior brightness of his red breast is a
sure token.
The robin i^ about six inches long; the
tail two and a half, and the bill a little
more than hal.f 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
Wfiighs about eleven drams. She usually
lays five or six eggs ; sometimes not more
than four, but never fewer ; tiiey are of a
cream color, sprinkled all over with fine
reddish-yellow spots, which at the large
end 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. In all respects they
are 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 days. One reared from the ne'st
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 thatch-moss 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 4Gor ;
While ducks and geese, with liappy 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'ring, in their search for play.
Why birds delay to build and siag.
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 doo^g
And Sidney, warbler of poetic prose. " '
Nymplis were Dianas then, and swains had
hearts.
That felt their virtues ; innoccuce, it seems.
From courts dismiss'd, found shelter in tJie
groves J
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.
Coivpsr
Februurv
2. Day breaks .
h. m.
. 5 29
Sun rises . .
. 7 25
— ?ets . .
Twilight ends
Hyacinth, narcissi, and Van
flower in the house.
. 4 35
. 6 31
Thol tulips
dFt'btnav^ 3.
Shrovetide.
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 Bookf 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
Moresin derives from the times of gen-
tilisni, 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 bi« TimeB.
7J
THE YEAK BOOK.— FEBRUARY 3.
us one day she gives us leave to take out
another — ftriit there is a Carnival and then
a Lent. — So likewise our eating of fritters,
whipping of tops, roasting of herrings,
jaek-of-lents, &c., they are all in imitation
of church works, emblems of mart> rdom."
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
kir.ds 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 Book 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 treat,
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 appK's stored within :
On Easter Sunday be the pudding seen.
To which the tansey lends her sober green .
And when great London hails her annual Lord,
Let quiv'ring custard crown the aldcrmanic
board.
But Ben prepares a more delicious mess.
Substantial fare, a breakfast for Queen Besfl
What dainty epicure, or greedy glutton.
Would not prefer his pie, that's made of
mutton ?
Each different country boasts a different 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 pics.
"Ben Tyrrell," it might have 6een pro-
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 23, 1758.
*' Vox Graculi," a curions quarto tract,
printed in 1623, says of this season, —
•' Here must enter that wadling,stradling,
carnifex of all Christendome, vulgarly
enstiled Shrove Tuesday, but, more per-
tinently, sole monarch of the mouth, high
steward to the stomach, prime peero of
the pullets, fire haniltt
of Pinnw, at lli-rrow on the Hill, it was
a public celebration, as appears by an
account of receipts and expenditures ;
and the money collected at tiiis sport was
applied in aid of the poor rates
'^* 1622. Received for cocks at
Shrovetide. . . . 12*. Od.
1628. Received for cocks m
lowne 19s. lOJ.
Out of towne . . . O5. 6d"
Ilogaith satirized this barbarity in the
ilrsl 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
ts 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
SDringing aside, avoid the fatal blow.
lie 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
* snys,* 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
Icilled it is put into a hat, and won a second
time by the person 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
xiocks, I should deserve the censure of
Boerhaave on another occasion : * To
teach the arts of cruelly is equivalent to
committing them '"
At Bromfield, m Cumberland, there was
a remarkable usage at Shrovet.de, thus
related by Mr. Hutchinson ni his history
of that county :
"Till within the last twenty or thirty
years, it has been a custom, time out of
mind, for the scholars of the free-school
of Uromfield, 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 barricadoecl
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, be 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 tlie 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 cock-
fight was ended, the foot-ball was thrown
down in the church-yard, and the poin*
then to be contested was, which party
could carry it to the house of his respective
76
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUAEY 4.
h. m.
Day breaks
. 5 27
Sun rises . .
. 7 23
sets . ,
. 4 37
Twilight ends
. 6 33
captain; to Dimdraw, perhaps, oi VVesl-
Newton, 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 villagST'"-, 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 bleddcr'd, Od-white-te, ton's brok-
en my sh'iis'.
February 3.
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 tlie
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 youi hedes,
'Memento, homo, quia cinis es; et in
cinerem reverteris ;' have mynde, thou
man, of ashes thou art comen, and to ashes
thou shalte tourne agayne."
An original proclamation, Mack letter,
dated 2Gth Feb. 30 Henry VIIL (1540),
ordains, as respects the church of England,
then separated from Rome, *« On Asne
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 keep a true Lent
Is this a fast, to tccp
The larder leane.
And cleane.
From fat of veales and sheep ?
Is it to quit the dish
Of fiesh, yet stHi
To fill
The platter high with fish 1
Is it to faste an houre.
Or rag'd to go.
Or show
A downcast look and sowre ?
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 horses), 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 lavouredly."*
February 4.
h. m.
5 26
7 22
4 38
6 34
Day breaks .
Sun rises . .
sets .
Twilight ends
Great jonquil, and daffodils blow in the
house. ^^^^^^^^
• Brand.
77
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUAKY 5.
1816. Februarys. Died at Richmond
m Surrey, Richard Viscount Fitzwilliam,
of Ireland. This noblen^an 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 ihere 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 organis*.,
has recently gratified the musical world
with a publication, sanctioned by the
University, of some of the most valuable
nianuscript 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 5th 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
bam, locked, and the key enclosed, that
he 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 NARnAxiVE.
A more wonderful account than that
concerning Elizabeth Woodcock,^ is sub-
joined upon indisputable authority.
* Butler's Chronological Excrcisci,
t Gents. Mag.
t Related in the Every Day BooV, ji. 175.
On the i9th of March, 1755, a smail
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 tliree 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
tied 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 neii^hbours'
houses, in which were twenty-two persons
ill all, covered with a high mountain of
snow. He lifted up his son, and reflecting
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 discover 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 lie 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 dii:
gence till thev made a large opening
78
THE YEAE BOOK.-FEBRUAliY 6.
through which the brother, v\ho had the
ilreani, immediately went down, where
the sister, with an agonizing and feeble
Toice, 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 Ihem,
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 goats,
one of which, liaving 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
back 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
algo 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
had 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 able to penetrate the
snow. They called often for help, but
received no answer. Tne 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 them. 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 night 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 soor.
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
beyond her reach, the goats climbed upon
her shoulder, and reached it themselves.
On the sixth day the 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 ihe 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 fatlier,
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 approach of
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 they 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, and from
the effluvia of the dead ass, goats, fowls,
&c. They likewise suffered great bodily
inconvenience from the vtry uneasy
posture ihey were confined to; for the
79
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBHUARY 6.
manger in which ihey sat, crotuliin-j:
against the wall, was no more than tlnee
feet four inches broad. The mother saiil
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 reloted were ob-
tained and attested on tlie J 6th of May,
1755, by the intendant authorised to take
the examination.
The Season.
The suuhcams on tlic hc«lges lie,
The south wind murmurs summer soft ;
The maids hang out white clothes to dry
Around the cldcr-skirtcd croft :
A calm of pleasure listens round.
And almost whispers Winter by ;
While Fancy dreams of Summer's sound.
And quiet rapture fills the eye.
Thiis 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.
Nature 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.
Clarets Shepherd's Calendar.
h. m.
Fabriutry 5. Day breaks , , 5 ^5
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 functio'rt
by reading the appointed forms of prayer.
\Vhen they read to the part exliorling a
sick person to make a confession of his
sins, one of them, Kenn, bishop of liuth
and Wells, told Charles " it was not an
obli'^ation," 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
tiTies, only gave for answer, that it was
time enough, or that lie 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 wliich he replied,
" For God's sake, brother, do, and lose
no lime." 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 cane 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.
" lie entreated the queen to pardon him,"
says Evelyn, " not without cause:" 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. he
adds — " I can never forget the inexpres-
sible luxury and profaneness, gaming,
and all dissoluteness, 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 table,
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 lifCr*'
80
THE YEAH EOOK.— FEBRUABY C.
u
KING AUTllUirS llOUXD TAIiLi:.
Where Venta's Norman castle still uproars
Its rafter'd hall, — that o'er the grass}- foss,
And scatter'd flinty fragments, clad in moss,
On yonder steep in naked state appears, —
Iligh-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 pvey
To the slow vengeance of the wizard, Time,
And fade the British characters away ;
Yet Spenser's page, that chants in verse sublune
Those chiefs, shall live, uncoiisoiuus of decay.
IVarton.
It is an ancient legend that the castle of
Winchester was built by the renowned
king Arthur, in 523; but Dr. Miluer as-
certains that it was constructed in the
reign of the Norman conqueror. In its
old chapel, now termed the county hall,
is Arthur's Round Table. It hangs at the
east end, and consists of stout oak plank,
perforated with many bullets, supposed
to have been shot by Cromwell's soldiers.
It is painted with a figure to represent
kin<: Arthur, and with the names of his
Vol. IV
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUAHY C.
twenty-four knights, as thoy are stated in
the romances of the fourtetnthand fift»»enth
centuries. It is represented by ll»e above
•ngraving.
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 \ III., to the emperor
Charles V. Hence Drayton sings —
And »o great Arlhar** seat ouM Wiachcater
prefers,
M'hosc ould round table yet she vauntcth to
be hers.
It is certain that among the learned, .it
.he beginning of the sixteenth centiwy, it
was not generally credited that this had
re.illy 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 twelfti)
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 tlie name of the Round
Table, and are so called in the records of
the times.*
Arthur's roujid 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
*imes is of a date quite as early as Stephen,
earl of Bologn, and Mortaigne, who, in
113.5, achieved the chivalrous feat of
seizing the crown of England, which had
teen settled on the empress Maud, as
soie 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
Geotlrey 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 ;
ivith the Valiant Atchievements of Sir
• ]\lassed by tlic tliinp, and pardoned it to
t«>cliester already, but tliis very niornin«jj
ti\e king did publicly walk up and down,
and Rochester I saw with him as free as
ever, to the king's everlasting shnme to
have so idle a rogue his companion."
16G7. Sept. 3. "1 dined with Sir
G.Carteret (vice-chaniberlain); after dinner
I was witness of a horrid rating which
Mr. Ashburnham, as one of the grooms
of the kind'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 h'n
father would have hanged his wardrobe
man, should he have been served so ; t!ie
kinjT having at this day no handker-
chiefs, and but three bands to his neck.
]Mr. Townshend ydeaded 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 ne'^jlected. —
\Vhen 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 tl>e king get more
as he can."
Waller, in a letter to St. Evremond,
mentions Charles's vexation under the
pillage he suffered from his ill-paid
household.
** Last night," says Waller, " I supped
fit 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 Roclies-
ter ; * he never does me this honor, but
when he is in an ill humor. ' " The fol-
lowing dialogue, or something very like
it, thpn ensued :
" The king. I low 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 ^Yhe^
* The king. Ridiculous ! — I believe the
English are the most untractable people
upotJ earth.
" Rochester. I most humbly beg your
majesty's pardon, if I presume in that
respect.
" The king. You would find them so
were you in my place, and obliged to
govern.
" Rochester. Were I in your 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 bisliop of
Salisbury deny it if he can.
" The king, lie 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., tliough
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 was
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,
84
THE YEAR BOOIv.-FEBRUAIl\
and other officers, they drank the king*
iieallh in a Hint glass of a yard long.*
On Duess, temp. Charles II.
The Monmouth, or military cock of
the hat, was much worn in this reii.'n,and
continued a considerable time in fashion.
The periwig, which had been long used
in France, was introtJnced into England
soon after tlie Restoration.
There is a tradition tiiat the hirge
bhick wig which J)r. R. RawlinsD.i be-
queathed, among other tilings of much
less consideration, to the Bodleian Li-
brary, was worn by Charles II.
Some were greatly scandalized at tins
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, thnt he employed a painter to
place periwigs upon the heads of several
of V'andyck's portraits.
Anthony Wood informs ns that Math.
Vincent, D. D., chaplain in oidinar}' to
t!ie king, preached before him at New-
market, in a long periwig, and lloUa^.d
sleeves, according to the then fashion for
gentlemen; and that his majesty was so
offended at it, that he commanded the
duke of Monmouth, chancellnr 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 aera of shoe-buckles : but
ordinary people, and such as affected
plainness in their garb, continued for a
• Evelyn's Diary, Feb. 10. 1685.
long lime after to wear string* in ihcii
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, cr 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 peails, 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
vk'orse, 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
Gramiiiont," that green stockings were
worn by one of the greatest beauties of
the Knilish court.*
In l^epys's very minute and ever inferest-
inj Diary, there are many curious parti-
culars relating to dress. lie notes down
of his wearhig 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 ;" ai d
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 wi'e, and to
brinoj 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 b)
coach to the New (Exeter) Exch.ange, to
buy her some things; where we saw soma
new-frshion petticoats of sarsnet, with %
• Granger.
TUK YiiAK BOOK.—FEBKUAItY 6.
black broad lac« printed round llielioUom
rod before, very lundsome." In May he
makes this memo rand u in : — "My wife an:l
1, in the IMvy Garden, saw the finest
* she-shirts' and hnen petticoats of my
lady Custlemaine, laced with rich Ices at
llie bottom, tliat ever I saw." In the
same month he walked in the park "where,"
he says, " 1 saw the king now out of
mourning, in a suit laced with gold and
silver, wh'oh it is said was out of fashion."
In October he put on a new band, whicli
pleased him so much, that lie writes, " 1
am resolved my ijreat expense shall be
lace-bands, and it will set oflf any tiling
the more." The notes in his Diary, after
16G'2, of prevailing modei and changes in
dress, become more descriptive, and also
deserve to be transcribed.
Extracts.
1663, July 13. The king rede in the
park with the queen, who wore "a white
laced waistcoat and a crimson short petti-
coat, and iier hair dressed a la ne^ligcme,
mighty pretty. The king rede 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 £l2
and for myself £55 or thereabout; having
made myself a velvet cloak, two new clotli
skirts, black, plain, both; anew 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 40.?. I have
worn neither yet, but I will begin next
month, God willing."
November 30, " Put on my best
black cloth suit, trimmed with scarlet
ribbons, very neat, with my cloak lined
with velvet, and a new beaver, which
altogetl'er is very noble, with my black
silk knit canons I bought a month ago."
1663-4, I'ebruary 1. "I did give my
wife's brother a close-bodied light-colored
coat that I had by me, with a uold edging
in each seam, t'lat was the lace of my
wife's best petticoat that s''e had on when
I married her. He is gone into Holland
to seek tiis fortune."
Ij. "The duke (of York)
first put on a perriwig to-day ; but rae-
ihcught his hair cut short, m ord-r thereto,
did look very pretty of itself, bofore he
put on his perriwig."
April la. *'To Hide I'ark, 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."
1064, June 24. "To the park, and
there met the queen coming from chapel,
with her maids 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."
Noveml)er 11. Put on my new
shasigy gown with gold buttons and loop
lace."
1661-5, March 6. " To St. James's—
did business with tiie duke. Great pre-
parations for his speedy return to sea. I
saw him try on his buflC coat and hat-piece
covered over with black velvet."
1665, May 14. " To church, it being
Whit-Sunday; my wife very fine in a
new yellow bird's-eye hood, as the fashion
is now."
June 1. " After 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
Vainer [sheriflf 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 rid ng 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 foi
a long petticoat dragging under their
men's coats, nobody would take them for
women in any point wiiatever ; 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
fG
THE YEAR BOOK.— EEBRUAllY 6.
jn Westrmnsler w\ieu I bouglit 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
ithat 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 on 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."
15. " 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; being 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
ito 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."
20lh. "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 wilh-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. Balilier
tells me the king of Trance 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 our king will, if it be so."
1666-7, February 4. "My wife and
I out to the duke's playhouse'— -ver.y full
of great company ; ainoiig others, Mrs.
Stewart, very fine, with her locks done
up with puffs, as my wi,''e 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,
mighty fine indeed, too fine, 1 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."
There is a curious trait in the personal
character of Charles II. "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^Mi ia
doctrine. Ascham,
■ -cjl ■ ^ ■ .
87
unw^^
lS\TV
OF
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 7.
Fibruary 6. Day breaks .
Sun rises . .
— sets . .
Twilijjht ends
Rutcljer's-brooni flowers
^rlmiari)/.
n. ni.
5 23
7 19
4 41
6 37
A Walk in
WlNIER
[For ihc Year Book.]
Healthy and hearty, and strong of limb,
on a sharp cold fro'sty 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, 'ihat drake looks
as though his blood were congealed, and
he wanted a friendly handling to thaw it,
as they do his brotlier'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
checilessly huddle together, ignorant of
the kite soaring beautifully ahove them,
whetting his beak on the keen wind. —
Wlieugh I what a clatter ! 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,thebranchesarenowbareof leaves,and
the short herbage covered with the drifted
jsnow, except close to the thickly growing
roots of tl»e blackthorn. Yon fowler with
his nets has captured a lark. Poor bird 1
never again will he rise and take flight in
tlie 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
the pool, and the fish below are doubtless
wondering at the rumbling and tumbling
above. That sparrow hawk is hurrying
after a fiiUdfare. — Look I he is above hii
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 hy at least two pounds ; and
the home-brewed is capital. Scarcely
two months n)ore, and we shall have tl>e
nightingale, with his pipe and jug, in the
adjoining thickets.
S. R. J
Court Jocularity tn Cold IVcul/ier.
King Henry II. lived on terms of fami-
liarity and merriment with his great offi-
cers of stale. In cold and stormy weather,
as he was riding through the streets of
London, with his chancellor, Thomas a
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 wretch, 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 hinti 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
hiying hold on a fine new scarlet cloak,
lined with fur, which Becket had on, he
tiied 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.*
February 7. Day breaks .
. 5 22
Sun rises . .
. 7 17
• — sets . .
4 43
Twilight ends
. 6 38
White Alysson flowers.
r.i'.:letcu's Life of Henr}- 11
88
THE YEAR BOOK.-FEBRUARY 7.
x;^^^^^A^:S^^^
'^'***^v'Vi^^'
A CASTLE.
According to Dr. Johnson, a castle is
" a strong house fortified ;'' but tliis 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 honse is our castcUum.
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 baihacan was a wu.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
whicli it was joined by a drawbridge, and
formed the entrance into the castle.
2 The .fitchy which was also called the
mote, rosse, or gra , was eitiier 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. Tlie wall of the outer balinun was-
within the ditch, on the castle side. This
wall was usually highjflanked with lowers,
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 bairacks, for the
garrison, and artificers; wells for water ^
and sometimes a monastery.
5. An artificial mount, commanding the
adjacent country, was often thrown up iu
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 bemg within the-
ballium.
8. The keepy or dungeon, commonly^
though not always, stood on an emincnc«»-
in the centre ; sometimeii it wai emphali-
Ji
S'3
THE YEAR BOOK. -FEBRUARY 8.
cally cullod tlie tower. It was the citadel,
or last relieul of the garrison, and was
generally a hii^h square tower of four or
five stories, having turrets at each angle,
witl» 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
cither 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 uniCtlled 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 castellain,
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 kings, or rather tyrants, as lords oi
castles ;" and Mattliew Paris s^.y'es tJj<»m
'* very nests of devils, and drns of inipves."
The licentiousness of me \oras, and the
number of their castles, were diminished
by king Stephen, and particularly 'ny 'nis
successor Henry II., who ])rohiuited the
building of new castles without special
licence.* His creation of burghs for the
encoiiragement of trade and industry was
an inroad upon the power of the lords, by
which it was finally subverted.
jFtf)vnavv! 8.
St. Magnus' Organ.
1712, February 8. The "Spectator"
contains the following notice
" VVheueas 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 publickly
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 " repair-
ed and beautified" at a very considerable
ex pence. During the reparation the east
window, which had been closed, was re-
stored, and tiie 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 tlie
Spectator; was taken down and rebuilt by
Mr. Parsons, and rc-opened, with the
church, on the 12th of Lebruary, 1826.
Organ Builders.
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
90
THE YEAE BOOK.— FEBRUARY 8.
«jiarr. f>t them, -xs they had arrived nearly
at tne s?ine lime in England. Emulation
was povvenuliy exerted. Dallans joined
iSmitn, but died in 1672; and Renatus
Harris, son of the elder Harris, ma-.le
great improvements. The contest became
still warmer. The citizens of London,
profiting by the rivalship of tH%se ex-
cellent artists, erected organs in their
churches ; and the city, the court, and
even the lawyers, 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 llieir respective organs, played by
eminent performers, before eminent
judges, one of whof" was the too cele-
brated Chancellor jefferies. Blow and
Purcell played for Smith, and Lully,
organist to queen Catherine, for Harris.
In the course of the contest, Harris chal-
lenged Father Smith lo make, by a given
time, the additional stops of the vox hu-
mana; the cremona, or viol stop ; the dou-
ble courtel, or bass flute. Sec; which was
accepted, and each exerted his abilities to
the utmost. Jefferies at length decided
in favor 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 ilenatus 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 had
the greater part of the business. It was
afterwards shared by By field and Bridge."*
A CHARACTER.
John Ciiappel,
Church Clerk of Morky, Yorkshire.
Extracted from the " History of MorIey,in the
parish of Batley, and West Riding of York-
shire ; &c., By Norrisson Scatchcrd, Esq.,
Leeds, 1830." Octavo.
Old John Chappel lived in a house
rear the vestry chamber, where his mother,
* Hawkins's History cf Music ; cited in
>fobIe'3 Contintiation to Grangf;r.
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
harmony, 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
wh ich 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 " Cheeiham " trudge
with his beloved violoncello, carrying it
with all the care and tenderness that a
woman does her babe. But, oh ! 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 Aqudin*), surrounded
by John Bilbrough, with ids 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—" softly rise, O southern
bj-eeze" — 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 tiie village, in many a livmg 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 cauliHower, or full-
bottomed, wig-tall, erect, dignified, and
serious, with an appearance winch would
I'l
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 9.
hare Kuited the cathedral at York, and a
countenance which might have stood in
the place of a sermon. But I must not
indulge myself upon tins subje::t.*
The Season.
The ovyI may sometimes be heard to
hoot about this day.
The owl is vulgarly called the "Scotch
nightingale." In June, 165G, 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
aviary for owls."
CUOUANS.
This denomination of a band of insur-
gents, during the first Friench revolution, is
not in general better understood than ihn
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 ni^ht, when they
made use of a noise imitating the scream
of the choueite, 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 I lie 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 chouetteSy 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-
Tious.
The chouans were the refuse of the
/enddans, who united with troops of
marauders; and, having no principle of
their own, but seeing that the attachment
evinced by the Vendeans to the catise of
royalty had acquired them much reputa-
• Scatcherd's History of Morlcy, p. 133,
tion, and gained many adherents, tliey
assumed a character to which they had no
pretension. Unlike the Vendeans, who
could not bear nocturnal fighting, the
chouans made all their attacks by nigh..
It was never thfir aim, by taking towns
or haiMrding a battle, to strike any de-
cisive blow. They never deserved the
name of soldiers; they were smugglers
transformed into banditti.*
Februufi/ 8. Daybreaks
Sun rises .
h. m.
, 5 20
, 7 15
— sets ... 4 45
Twilight ends . 6 40
The long flowers of the hazeJ begin to
be seen hanging in the hedges.
Owls hoot
Cold Weather.
Animalcula 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 off 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
t rated. 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 Fiance*
THE YEAP. BOOK-EEBEUARY 10.
nccidentally discovered motion in the
«\ater, and could discern some opaque
and moveable spots in it. I adapted
magnifiers of greater power, an-d could
then distinctly observe that the water,
which had becorrie a sea for my observa-
tions, swarmed with living inhabitants.
Tlie extreme minuteness and delicate
frame of these tender animalculae, 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 auimalcula? 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 animalcula?, produced
to view myriads of smaller ones of dif-
ferent forms and kinds, which had been
invisible under the former magnifiers, but
which were now seen sporting and wheel-
ing in a thousand intricate meanders.
I was examining tlie larger first-dis-
covered animalculee, 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, ai^d 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 thrust out, as it
*vere, 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,
full of the lesser animals, under a mouth
>vhich was between the two seeming heads,
so that It took in what it liked of the
smaller creatures for its food. The mo-
tion and the current continued till the
insect had satisfied its hunger, when the
whole 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
plate, and recovered its pomted shape j
and the animal rolled about as wantonly
as the rest of its brethren.
While my eye was upon this object,
other animalculae 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 described 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 ! It is erroneously called
the wheel-animal.*
li. m.
Feoruary 9. Day breaks
. 5 19
Sun rises . .
. 7 13
— sets . .
. 4 47
Twilight ends
G 41
Ravens build.
j^^lituari) 10.
In February, 1786, 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
iiearing. 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, though delicate ; ^y uquors
the best wines of Xeres and La Manche
• Sir John Hill
93
THE YEAR BOOK.-FEBRUARY 11.
Ill' wluclil never *>xo«>p(lr.J a pint at any
roeal, except inrc>l(l weather, when I al-
lowed ayself a third more. 1' rode
rr walked every day, except in rainy uea-
ther, when I exercised for a couple of
hours. So far I took care of tltu body ;
and, as to the mind, I endeavoured to pro-
serve it in due temper by a scrupulous
obedience to the divine commands, and
keepinj^, as the apostle directs, a con-
science void of oftence towards God and
man. By these innocent means 1 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 gamer.*
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 that
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." — Montaiane.
h. m.
ihruartf 10. Day breaks
5 17
Sun rises
7 11
— sets . .
4 49
Twilight ends
6 43
Frogs breed, and croak.
1763. February 11. William Shen-
stone, the poet of" the Leasowes" in War-
wickshire, and author of "the School-
mistress," died, aged 19, broken-spirited,
and, perhajjs, 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 fulfilieJ,— omitted, from
prudential motives, to marry a lady whom
ne loved, — was seduced into a passion for
landscape gardening — and ruined his do-
• Gtnts. Mag.
mestic affairs. lie retired into the country,
and could not bear soliturle,-— ^xpetided
his means on planting his grounds, — la-
mented that his house was not fit to
receive ** polite friends," were they dis-
posed to 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 wrkes 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 lan)p 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."
Economi/f and Epicurism.
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
not have said.
For who CO 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 monay 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 particJilar
manner, which he had tasted at my
father's; and ever after, till his death, nav
94
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY ]«
mamma ftiniished liim with a sufficient
quantity to lust 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 quanti-ty,
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, T
suppose, may be called a compromise
between economy and epicurism,''
h. m.
February 1\. Daybreaks . . 5 15
Sun rises , . 7 10
— sets ... 4 50
Twilight ends . 6 45
Rooks build
^^firuate 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 Beckfoid,
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 1
Resolve me — which is worse.
Want with a full, or -with an empty purse ?*
Chemistry.
[For the Year Book.]
The primitive 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 f.om
Suidas, was used by the Greeks very soon
after the death of our Saviour.
As respects the science, Tubal- Cain,
who found out the art of working in
brass, must have been an able^chemist ;
for it is impossible to woik on this metal
without first knowing the art of refining it
The physicians who were odered to
embalm the body of the patriarch Jact.j
were skilled in medicinal chemistry.
Cleopatra proved to the royal Anthony
her knowledge 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 culli-
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.
Geber 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 licw
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 experiment, held a phial vvhicli
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 burns and sparkles
In men as nat'rally as in charcoals,
Whicli 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 th •
devil upon two slicks inform Don Cleofa^
95
THE YEAR BOOK— FEBRUARY 13.
that he li the jjod Cupid, and the intro-
ducer ofcliemistry into tlie world.
Ladies who dei^n to read so far — bright
eyes I — 1 cry you mercy : I liave done.
i'cbruaty 12. Daybreaks .
Sun rises
— sets . .
Twiliglit ends
The toad makes a noise.
h. in,
5 14
7 8
4 52
6 46
d^thvnav}} 13.
The Season.
About this time all nature begins to
revivify.
The green woodpecker is heard in the
woods.
The wood lark, one of our earliest and
sv/ec'.est songsters, renews his note.
Rooks begin to pair.
Missel-thrushes pair.
The thrush sings.
The yellowhammer is heard.
The chaflfinch sings.
Turkey cocks 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.
NOTE.—
Knowledge is treasure, but judgment is
the treasury.
Want of knowledge, and due consider-
ation, cause all the unhappiness a man
firings 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
-
sider before you adopt advice.
Indolence is a stream which flows
slowly on, but yet undermines tiie founda-
tion of every y'uiue.—Spccfatur.
Let 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 n)anners 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 dis-
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:
Tea 10 the world allot : and ALL to heaven.
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 whut it absolutely
needs, Socrates, seeing a heap of trea-
sure, jewels, and costly furniture, carried
in pomp through the city, said, '* How
manythings do I not desire !" — Montaigne.
Fthruary 13.
li. in.
5 12
7 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 varieties of this plant are s-ip-
posed to come from the common prim-
rose, or from that and the cowslip.
OLD GROTTO IN THE CITY OF LONDON.
On !i. formation that some cnrious sub-
terranean remains existed in the premises
of Messrs. Holt 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 thv'j 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 laddj?r, into a
larg-.e 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
time been attached, and entered the
apartment which is represented in the
above engraving, from a drawing taken
on ihe spot by my friend while we re-
mained.
The legend ccncerning the apartment
shown by the print is, that in the catholic
times it was used for a place of worsliip ;
and, though now below the surface of the
earth, was level with the grass or lawn of
a garden, which is ajt this time covered
with old buildings. *
On going into the apartment from 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 pi iiu on the right hand of the torch-
bearer. These recesses withinside widen
to the widih of the grotto. The back of
the grotto is occupied by a projecting
kind of arched shrine work, covered with
OL. IV.
\)1
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBKUaRY K.
•Jiffereul shells. The space under and
within the sides of the canopy is curiously
inlaid with snr.ill shells, cowries, and
oiherk, that little of tliat
kind remains to add.
The earliest poetical valentines are by
Charles, duke of Orleans, who was t:aken
prisoner at the battle of Agincourt, in 141 5.
'Ihe 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
98
THE YEAE BOOK.— PEBRUARV 14.
king's MSS. at the British IVIuseum.
Some of these compositions are rondeaus
in the English language, which the duke
had sufficient leisure to acquaint himself
with during his captivity. A translation
of one of his pieces, although not a
valentine, u introduced as suited to the
season.
Well thou showcst, 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 aged grow.
Winter-clad, with beards of snow.
And so rough, so rainy he.
We must to the fireside flee ;
There, in dread of out-door weather,
Sculk, like moulting birds, together :
Bui thou com'st — all nature cheering
By thy bright appearing.
Winter yon bright sun enshrouds
With his mantle of dark clouds ;
But, kind Hcav'n be praised, once more
Bursts forth thine enlightening power.
Gladdening, brightening all the scene.
Proving how vain his work hath been, —
Flying nL 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 having 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 NMll 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 T 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-
lawing 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 my
^•alentine, she having drawn me; which J
♦ Lays of the Minnesingers, 28G.
was not sorry for, it easing me of some-
thing more tliat I must have given to
others. But here 1 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 ; which 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 £l50
w^orth of jewels of one kind or other; and
I am glad of it, for it is fit the wretch
should have something to content herself
with." The word " wretch " is here used
as a term of familiar endearment towards
nis wife, for whom he entertained the
kindest aflfeclion.
Some verses follow by the earl of
Egremont, who was son of Sir William
Wyndhara, 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 Graces' silken smiles ;
She stole Aurora's balmy breath.
And pilfcr'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 whicli in time she added more.
At twelve, she stole fiom Cyprus' queen
Ilcr air and lovo-commanding mien,
iitole Juno's dignity, and ftole,
From Pallas, sense to charm the soul.
09
THE YEAR BOOK.-FEBRUARY 14.
Apollo's wit was next hrr prey ;
Her next, the beam tliat lights the day.
She sung ; — amazed, the Syrens heard
And, to assert their voice, appeared.
She play'd ; — the Muses from the hill
Wondcr'd who thus had slol'n their skill.
Great Jove approv'd her crimes and art.
And t*oth( r day she stole my heart !
If lovers, Cupid, are thy care,
IJxert ihy 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-
Und, I was highly amused witli the in-
teresting manner in which the young folks
celebraie St. Valentine's Day.
A few years ago, on tlie 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 cloudles;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
sight of a comfortable-looking lonely
cottage, with a very neat plot in front,
abounding with kail and winter leeks for
the barley broth. The roof of rushes.
Gated with snow, vied with the well
white-washed wall. P>om 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 fire of wood
and turf, and appeared delighted with
O'jr coming. We found ourselves in the
house of rendezvous 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 were di-
rected towards us. \* was our hu?inosri
to become familiar with our iirw ac-
quaintances, and the pastimes w»-re 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 blooniing lasses of the village. — Each
lad had dictated the name of her he loved.
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 mi^ht, and fear lest it should
not, be the name of his sweet-lioart. Tliis
was repeated three times; the tliird li-ue
was the conclusion of tliis part of ihe
sport. Some drew beloved names the
thnd 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 the
victims mourned their unpitied derided
sufferings.
After the lasses, the names of the young
men were written and drawn by the girls
in tlie same manner, and a threefold suc-
cess was secretly hailed as a suretyship
of bearing the name of the 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
tiiis 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 rnucli gallantry
as I could assume. My attentions were
pleasing to h'er, but raised among as-
pirants to her favor a jealous dislike to-
wards the unknown intruder.
This ciistom 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.
100
THE YEA.E BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14.
Valentine's Day.
[Communicated by a Lady.j
On the fourteenth of February it is
customary, 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
tliey 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 iheir head, march
forward in the greatest state imaginable,
at the same time playfully singing,
Good morrow to you, Valentine ;
Curl your locks as I do mine.
Two before and three behind.
Good morrow to you, Valentine.
This Ihey 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 tiieir 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
sniihng in their old station, and blushing
when I urged them to follow the rest,
who were collecting the scattered dole
under the old apple tree. Some were o;i
their knees, others absolutely lyin^ down
with out-stretched hands, and faces on
which were depicted as much earnestness
as if the riches of the Valley of Diamond?,
which Sinbad tells of, were before them ;
while the biggest ^irls 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 behr>ld, 1
closed the window, and attended the
welcome sum.!W)n3 of my maid,- >vii3 just
then entere'tj^^a rpom.with th<> .agv-^eable
news "the breakfast is ready, miss, and
there is a nice tire, jn ^ \\j^ , parlour."
" Farewell then, pretty chrldrc^," I Grie(i,
" 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 listenmg 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 slilne
Wake, my love, my Valentine '
For thy locks of raven hue.
Flowers of Loar-frost pearly.
Crocus-cups of geld and blue.
Snow-drops drooping early.
With Mezereon sprigs combine
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 litde celandine
Crown my love, my Valentine.
Pansies, on their lowly 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
G rden-brds and orchard-trees'
Since this wrcatli victorious
Binds you now for ever mine,
O my I>ov<', my Valentine.
Monlqomrrji.
101
THE YEAR BOOK. -FEBRUAEY 15.
h. m.
February 14. Day breaks . . 510
Sun rises ..74
— sets . . . 4 5G
Twiliglit ends . G 50
Noble liverwort flowers; there are
three varieties ; the bhie, the purple, and
the white.
Common yellow crocuses flower abun-
dantly.
jpttniaxv! 15.
A BUSINESS LEITER.
The following original epistle, which
nas not before appeared in any work, is
communicated fmm a.corres4iandent, who
is curiouj in liis researelKi^^pd collections.
[Address on the baclr.] '
Mr. John Stakes. No. 5 in
Hind's Court Fleet Street
Single London
And Post Paid. 15. FeO. 1809.
[Contents.]
" St. Asapli in 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 IG.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 J\Ir. Kinlej/,
of Crossack, Bullasalla, 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, a'nd to be aware. All
newspapers who are filled with dirty,
foolish, sitifull accounts of mean, ill, un-
profitable things, which stuff the Riinds 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 lioiy 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 1 liave a great number of
the Mirror papers, and I hope to be a
constant customer; as such, 1 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, readcjrs 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 you more cash in due lime.
But, at present time, begin on next Satur-
day, and don't fail, and direct quite plain,
in good writingj^ijr Mr. Kinlej/, of Cros-
sack, Ballasalla, hie 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 th is 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, Bal-
lasalla, 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. IIadwex, Engineer, &,c."
[Annexed.]
" St. Asaph in Wales, Feb. 15, 1809-
" Mr. Warner, of 16 Cornliill.
" Esteemed and dear friend. Your':, or
1st inst. I got when I came here, with a
share in it. I find you to he 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 Stokea, the pul>-
102
THE YEAR BOOK.— PEBEUAEY 15.
lisher of the Mirror newspr.per, as I want
him to send eighteen newspapers to t!ie
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. IIadwen, Engineer.
" I could like to have a share of No. 1 03,
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
at 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 breathing forms and in-
animate objects that wound themselves
around our hearts and became almost
necessary to our existence, than the perusal
of old fetters. They are the memorials
of attachment, the records of affection,
the speaking-trumpets through which
tliose 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 leagijies divide from us, are again
in our presence; we see their cordial
looks, and iiear their gladdening voices
once more. The paper has a tongue in
every character, it contains a language in
its 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 remenibrance of
the dead'. 1 have" one at this monient
before me, which (although time has in a
degree softened the regret I felt at the
loss of him who peimed it) I dare scarcely
look upon. It (.alls back too forcibly to
my remembrance its noble-minded au-
tlior — the treasured friend of my earliest
and happiest days — the sharer of my pu-
er.le but innocent joys. I ihink 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 gliastly
images of death are hovering round rne.
I see him whom I loved, and prized, and
honored, shrunk nilo 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 seme
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 wha
have ch.erished 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 sinceritv of mv
attachment and affliction.
Stanzas.
Farewell! farewell! for thee arise
The bitter thougiits that pass not o'er ;
And friendsliip's tears, and friendship's sighs.
Can ncvf-r 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 not near to calm thy smart.
And press tliee to his bleedmg heart.
He was not near, in that dark Iiour
When Reason fled her ruined shriuc.
To soothe witJi Pity's gentle power.
•And mingle his faint sighs wjth thin-i ,
And pour tl>e parting tear to tnoe.
As pledge of his fidelity.
J03
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15.
He ■was not near wlion ihou wcrl l>orne
My others to ihy pnrrnt oartl».
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.
Dcfitroyinj; Death ! thou hast one link.
That bound me in this world's frail cliain :
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 IcH 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 fecl'st no pain within the tomb —
*Tis thcir« alone who weep thy doom.
Long wilt thou be the cherished thcmo
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 hciirt will be the strife
That must remain with memory,
Un< anccllcd froin the book of life.
Their breasts will be the mournful urns
Whore sorrow's incense ever burns.
But there are other letters, the perusal
of wliich makes us feel as if reverting
from the winter of the present to the
sprniK-time of the past. These are from
friends whoiTi we have long known and
whose society we still enjoy. There is a
charm in contrasting the sentiments of
their youth witli 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 t'ne full-grown
tree proceeds from the shoot, or the flower
fnm the bud. We iove 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 toucliing 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 tliem that is not cha-
racteristic of the man. Every word bears
the impress of fieedom — the true currente
calamo stamp. He is tiie most convivial
of letter-writers — the heartiest of epistlers.
Tbpn th<»'o is N- , vrho always seems
to bear in mind that it is "belter to be
brief than tedious;" for it must indeed be
an important subject that woiiUi elicit
from him more than three Imes : nor hath
his riba \s\\'\\.n\o\v. o^ xh^ cacoethes&crilicndi
about her — one would almost suppose they
were the hero and heroine of an anecdote
1 remember somewhere to liave heard, of a
gentleman who, by mere chance, strolled
into a coffee-house, where he met with a
captain of his acquaintance on the point
of sailing to New York, and from whom
he received an invitation to accomi)any
him. This he acce|)ted, taking care,
however, to inform his wife of it, which he
did in these terms : —
« Dear Wife,
I am going to America.
Yours tndy,"
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 save*, from the wreck of ecrly
love — reliques of spirit-buoying hopes —
remembrancers of joy. They, i)erchance,
remind us that love has sot in tears — that
hopes were cruelly blighted — that our
joy is fled for ever. When we look on
them we seem 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»
Februart/ 15. Day breaks ..59
Sun rises ..72
— sets . . . 4 58
Twilight ends . 6 51
Cloth of gold crocus flowers, with
petals cf a deep orange-yellow inside,
and stripes of shining deep reddish-brown
o itside.
Snow-(i»-ops and crocuses are by this
time abundant; and with the hellebores,
hepaticas, and polyanthuses, contribute
greatly to enliven the garden.
• The Gondola.
lot
THE YEAR BOOK-FEBRUARY IS-
PHEBE IIASSEL, aged 106.
In looKing over the drawings of Mr.
!.'hatfield, the artist,* I found a fine full-
sized portrait of Phehe Ilassel, which
that gentleman sketched at Brigliton in
her lifetime, and has obligingly copied for
the 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 wlio 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 m tlie
• No. 66, Judd Street, Rruns\v;(k Square
person of Phebe Hassel, a poo .voman
stated to be 106 years of age. It appears
that she was born in March 171.'), 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 sen*
to Plymouth; she then waited on the ge-
neral's lady at Gibraltar, disclosed her
sex, told her story, and was immediately
•iont home. On her arriral, Phebe went
1 05
THE YEAR BOOK. -FEBRUARY 16.
to Samuel Ccldi:)g in tlie hospital, nursed
hrm 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 Ilassel, has
had many children, and 1ms 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 Parad'e.
" 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
present 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 o'lder
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, tiiough
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
roused, and she spoke with emphasis.
Her voice was stro § for an old person ;
and I could easily believe her when, upon
being asked if h'.-r sex was not in danger
of being detected by her voice, she replied
tliat she always had a strong and manly
voice. She appeared to take a pride in hav-
ing kept her secret, declaring that she told
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 trutJK — But," said she, " 1 told my
secret to the ground. 1 dug a hole that
would hold a gallon, and whispered it
there." NMiile I was with her the flies
annoyed ?ier 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 elljow by a bayonet. She
lamented the error of her former ways,
but excused it bj sa.ing, "whrn you are
at Rome, you must do as Borne does.**
NVhen 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 told would fre-
quently state the time of day by the eflect
of light."
It was the late king, George IV., who
spoke of her as " a jolly old fellow,"
I'hebe was one of his Brighton favorites,
he allowed her eightnen pounds a-year,
and at her death he ordered a stone in-
scribed to her memory to be ))laced 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 Ilassel's manners and mind were
masculine. She had good natural sense
and wit, and was what is commonly
called "a character."
^ttvnav^ ic.
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 liatcliffe 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 fine library of choice
books, which were sold after his decease.
The catalogue of his pictures, with the
])rices they produced, is in the British
Museum.
Physicians.
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 foi
taking medicine, gathered their simples at
certain hours, assumed austere, and even
lOG
THE YEAR EOOK.-FEBEUARY 17-18.
severe looks, and prescribed, among their
choice drugs, the left foot of a tortoise,
t) A liver of a mole, and blood drawn from
under the wing of a white pigeon.
h. m.
Vebrtiart/ 16. Day breaks . 5 7
Sun rises ..70
— 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 shave 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 poveity, to regain it; and,
by UDaidt.'d efforts of industry, accom-
plished hii purpose. The story is in Mr.
F(ister's ejsay " On decision of character,"
from which an irresolute person may
derive large prcfit.
A pert on 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 run, i/ 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.
Fosters Essa^i.
h. m.
February 17. Day breaks ..55
Sun rises . 58
— sets ... 5 2
Twilight ends . 6 55
The bee begins to appear abroad when
ziiild.
dPthvnaxv is.
1546. Feb. 18. Martin Lutl.cr died,
at the age of 63. His life is tlie history
of the age in which he lived ; 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
riglit of private judgment in matters of
faith. To the defence of this proposition,
he was at all times ready to devote Ids
learning, his talents, his repose, liis 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 50 years of age,
Thomas Carew, a distinguished poet.
He was educated at Corpus Christ! Col-
lege, Oxford, afterwards greatly improved
himself by travel, and Charles I. 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
noanner :
Persuasions to Love.
Think not, 'cause men fattering say,
Y'are fresh as Aprill, sweet as May,
Bright as is the morning-starre.
That you are no ; or, though you arc.
Be not therefore proud, and dcemc
All men unworthy your estecme :
Nor let brittle beauty make
You your wiser thoughts forsake ;
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 hind.
Will change their abroun hue, and growr
White with cold as -winter's snow.
TJiat eye, vliich now is Cup'd s nest,
AVill prove his grave, aiiJ uii the TCf^t
* Il-jscoe's Lre X., 4to, iv. 47.
J07
THE YEAK BOOK.— FEBRUARY 10.
Will follow ; in the cJicek, chin, nose,
"Nor lilly shall be founil, nor rose ;
And whal will then become of all
Those whom now you •ervanls 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 firm ; be 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 chcekc which was belov'd j
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.
O 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 ncre call back.
The snake each ycarc 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
AflTords 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.
Febjuari/ 18. Daybreaks
Sun rises
h. m.
5 3
6 56
— sets ... 5 4
Twilight ends . 6 57
" February fill dyke," an old proverb,
is usually verified about this time, by
frequent rains, and full streaming ditches.
In February, 1683-6, Sir John Holt,
who had been appointed recorder of
London 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 oi.e of the men of
the robe chosen by the peers at St.
James'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 office of lord
chief justice of Encjland. law and jus-
tice were efTectually administered when
he presided in the King's Bench. n the
lianbury election case he told the House
of l-*eers that they ought to respect the
law which had made liiern 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, lie an-
swered, *' I sit here to administer justice;
if you had the whole House of Commons
in youi belly, I should disregard you; and,
if you do not immediately retire, 1 will
commit you, Mr. Speaker, and those with
you.'' Neither his compeers, nor the
houses of parliament separately or col-
lectively, could intimidate him, and Queen
Anne ua.^ compelled to dissolve the par-
liament to get rid of the question. On a
mob assembling before a crimping house,
in Ilolborn, the guards were called out :
" Suppose," said he, " the populace will
not disperse, what will you do ?'' " 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 liim. " 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
DOor woman the prisoner." She was ac-
quitted by the jury and rewarded by the
chief justice. HediedMarch 10,1710-1
aged 67; and was buried in the church
of Redgrave, in Suffolk.*
108
:he year book.— februaby 20.
Februaty 19 Day breaks
Sun rises
li. m.
5 1
6 55
— sets ... 5 5
Twilight ends . 6 59
The navelwortjor houndstongue, begias
humous respect frequently denied to living
worth, being followed to the grave by a
numerous body of ship-owners, seamen,
and friends.
to flower.
dF^5ttiat» 20.
Heniiy Taylor,
Of North Shields.
At North Shields, on Thursday, the
20th of February, 1823, Mr. Henry
Taylor, a member of the Society of
Friends, 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 pr^^-^'-
and invaluable lives. As the m^ o
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-
heartening 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
consciousnessiof 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-
The Season
Bullfinches return to our garoens m
February, and, though timid half thrt
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 sucIj
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. Tlie hen learns as well as
the male, and, though hung among other
caged birds, they invariably retain tl.eir
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 fiom
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 men'
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.
101)
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 21.
youn^ ones before the end of May, or
bej:inning 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 epijs, of a bluish color, with large
dark brown, and faint reddish spots at the
larjje 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
wliite 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 t!ie bill to the end of the tail ;
the length of which is two inches.
h. m.
February 20. Day breaks . . 4 59
Sun rises . . G 53
— sets ... 5 7
Twilight ends . 7 I
Mezereon tree begins to blow
^jFrl^niiiti) 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 Sclmebbelie,
■draughtsman to the Society of Anti-
quaries, to which olfice he was appointed
on the express recommendation of the
president the Earl of Leicester, who, in
his park near llerlford, accidentally saw
him, for the first time, while sketching a
view. The earl employed him in taking
picturesque land-jcapes about Tunbridgo
Wells, with a view to tlieir 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-Zootn, and afterwards settled in this
country as a confectioner, frequently at-
tending in that capacity on king George
ir., 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,
an 1 a discriminating taste, caugh^ the
most beautiful objects in the happiest
points of view, and his fidelity and ele-
gance of delineation rank him among
first-rate artists. The works he put forth
on his own account are not numerous.
Jn 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
aquatintine, he began, with great ardor,
'* tlie Antiquaries' Museum," of which
he had, jist 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 " \^etusla
Monumenta," and in the secorsd 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 Kiflg'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 architectuie
and monuments, and he had commenced
to compile "Antique Dresses since the
Reign of Wiiiiam the Conquero-r, col-
lected from various work ; with their
110
r
THE YEAR BOOK.-rEBBUAHY 21.
Authorities." Few artists produced more
specimens of their talents in their parti-
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 deeply regretted.*
The Season.
Rams often set in and continue se-
veral days; and the atmosphere of tiie
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-
])osed water by a very simple process,
and the Hon. Mr. Cavendish confirmed
the 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 water may be kept sweet for
many weeks ; the more and the oftener it
.s 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.
1 or 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
a mere desert. Man himself is the greatly
aboundmg animal upon the earth.
Lou Boulidon.
In a village called Peyrols, about a
league from Montpellier, there is a fosse,
which IS dry except in seasons of abundant
rain. \\hen 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 die droughts of summer there
are often large fissures in the bottom of
the fosse, from which a noise is heard as
of the distant rushing of waters. The
fosse is called in the country /o?< bouUdou,
a word which implies something that
bubbles.*
* fivQtS. Sl.l^,
" ApKopos 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
Rainr ^ ^
Maater. Does it rain ?
Terry. No Sir.
M. I see the sun shines — ToU nuhUa
Pliahus.
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— and a 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 noTT ?
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.
* liliss Plumtre.
Jll
THE YEAR BOOK.-FEBRUARY 21.
M. Were you born in Dublin?
T, No, Sir, I mi'j;lu if I had a mind ;
out 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 fust as a dog can trot.
M. Which is tlie usual mode of tra-
velling in tliis country ?
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 afTord either one
or t'other are obliged to trudge it on foot.
M. Which is the pleasanlest season for
travelling?
T. Tailh, Sir, I think that season in
which a man has most money in his purse.
M. I believe your roads are passably
good.
T. 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.
T. Faith, we have, Sir — plenty of every
color.
M. But I think it rains too much in
Ireland.
T. 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. As 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.
31. 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 Philosophy.
The countryman has his ways cf phi-
losophising for tlie common uses of life,
OS well as your speculative town genlle-
• Polyanthca, i. 273.
men. It is true his methods of pro-
ceeding are rude and unpolished, but
they are such as he is well satij»fie(i 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 fl.isk with the mouth
downward in a phial of water. Ilis 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 onhour, vviien the sun shines.
He also makes a guess at tiie 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 Icngthcn'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 the sun, at ihe 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.
FebriKu-j/ 21. Day breaks . • 4 58
Sun rises . . 6 51
— sets . ..5 9
Twilight ends . 7 2
Leaves of the March flowering plant*
peep out hourly.
•Gents. Mag. 1759
112
THE YEAR BOOK— FEBRUARY 21.
A CHILD READING.
I sometimes avail myseit of a friend's
invitation to set off at night and sleep a
few miles from to.vn 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 my 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 work : I borrowed and
pocketed both ; and instead of walking
briskly 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 of
nothing else, and could do nothing that
awaited my doing. To escape observa-
tion and interruption 1 rushed out of the
house, stepped into a stage, going I knew
not wliither, and read till the coachman,
having set down all my fellow passengers,
inquired where I wislied to stop : — ^' At
the house where the coach slops." — "Will
you be set down at the Plough, Sir ?" —
" Yes " — and, in a cold dreary winter's
day, I found myself m the passage of the
Plough at Blacicwall, 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 my hands I was an infant. It is
certain that « I have not yet arrived at the
period of life which may pnt me on a
level with childhood ;" but I am not wiser
than when I was a child :— I only know
more.
Oh ! Spirit of thfi days gone by —
Sweet childhood's fearful ecstasy!
The witching spsll of winter night
Where are they fled with their deHght :
Vol. IV,
113
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 22.
When list'ning on the comer scat,
The winter evening's length to cheat,
I heard my mother's memory tell
I'ales Superstition h^ves 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 hctions were as trutlis 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 .
[ still see faces pale with dread.
While mine could laugh at what is said j
See tears imagined woes supply.
While mine with real cares are dry.
Where arc 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 cherisli in a lonely hour.
Clare,
I love to hear 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 \illage, and had never been to
church, nor could she imagine what a
church was like. W^hen 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," ocrasioned by birds up in the
air, or that it was made by the angels.
She then tells of the Sunday morning of
her fust going to churcli, 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-
wauls, 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 hills 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 eiigagcd, 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 lo-ve of human kind.
Cliurlet Lamb-
;SPthxxmxvi 22.
Evergreens.
At this 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 ol
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 now the sun extends his cheering beam,
And all the landscape casts a gol(ten gleam
114
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 22.
Clftar 19 the sky, and calm and soft the air.
And through thin mist each object looks more
fair.
Then, where the villa rears its sheltering
grove,
Along the southern lawn 'lis sweet to rove :
There dark green pines, behind, their boughs
extend.
And bright spruce firs like pyramids ascend.
And round their lops, 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 alatcrnus ilex interweaves.
And laurels mix their glossy oval leaves ;
And gilded holly crimson fruit displays.
And white viburnum o'er the border str;:ys.
Where these from storms the spacious green-
house screen,
Ev'nnow the eye beholds a flowry scene ;
There crystal sashes ward the injurious cold.
And rows of benches fair exotics hold ;
Ilich 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 myrtles grateful fragrance shed ;
A moment stay to mark the vivid bloom,
A moment ttajr to catch the high perfume."*
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 neiglibourhood gravely aver tliat
Mr. Kellerman, of Lilley, a village mid-
way letween Luton and Hitchin, suc-
ceeded in discovering the Philosopher's
Sione 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
lo 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 paja ^o
him, notwithstanding the reported dislike
of the philosopher to strangers.
* Dr. Forster's Perennial Calendar.
Interview with Mr. KelUrmaru
I had no encouragement to go to
Lilley, but I thought^ that even the ex-
ternal inspection of such premises would
repay me for the trouble. At Lilley, I
enquired for his house of various people,
and they looked ominous; some smiled,
others shook their heads, and all appeared
surprised at tlie approacli of an apparent
visitor to Mr. Kellerman.
The appearance of the premises d\f?
not belie 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
driving my chaise to the front of the liouse,
I perceived the whole in a state of horrid
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, mueh
of the glass was broken, and the premises
appeared altogether as if deserted. 1 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 pookets. 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 very large parlour, with a win-
dow looking backward; and 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 olti books piled
upon each other, with a sufficient quantity
of dust and cobwebs. Different shelves -
were filled in the same mannci, and on
one side stood his bed. In a corner,
somewhat shaded from the light, I beheld
two heads, white, with dark wig? on them;
115
THE YEAR BOOK.- -FEBllUAivY 22.
1 entertained no doubt, therefore, that
amonjj other fancies he was engaged in
re-making the brazen speaking head of
Hoger Bacon and Albertus. Many per-
sons might have felt alarmed at the pecu-
liarity of ray situation ; but being ac-
customed to mingle with eccentric cha-
racters, and having no fear from any pre-
tensions of tiie 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 initi'' was
a visit of curiosity, and stated th;it, if what
1 had heard was matter of fact, the re-
searches of the ancient chemists had been
UMJustly 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
n?t they 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 with which
they described their processes, he had, at
length, happily succeeded ; had made gold,
and could make as much more as he
pleased, even to the extent of paying off"
the national debt in the coin of the realm.
I yielded to the dechration, expressed
my satisfaction at so extraordinary a
discovery, and asked him to oblige me
so far as to show me some of the precious
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 the
ground that there was iio 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 ofTered
to go to France, and transfer to the French
government the entire advantages of the
discovery ; 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 that 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 th.e sublir^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?"
" Tlian that process," said he, ' there
is nothing more easy : at tiie 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 refused 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 spring 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 nov/ enquired, whether he had been
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 baflUe 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 cumbustiblei
in the range of bottles which stand at youi
elbow, that I could destroy a whole regi-
116
THE YEAR BOOK.-FEBRUARY 23.
ment of soldiers il sent against me.'' He
then related that, as a further protection,
he lived entirely in that room, and per-
mvitted no one to come into the house;
while he had locked up every room except
that with patent padlocks, and sealed the
keyholes.
It would be tedious and impossible
to follow Mr. Kellerman through a con
versation of two or three hours, in w
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 him 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;
wlnle, on the contrary, they witnessed
Jhs severe disappointments, at the termi-
nation of his most elaborate experi-
ments. *
On my telling the man that I had
been m his room, he seemed much as-
tonished at my boldness; for he assured
me, that he carried a loaded pistol in
con- every one of his six waistcoat pockets.
hich 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 durinc^
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.
_ , h. m.
February 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.
dFel&ruatp 23.
1792, February 23. Died, full of
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 worsi)ipful 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 wa« one of the most memo-
rable men o .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
colo-ing, 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 V^andyke, had never been repre-
sented. They ren-ind the spectator of
the invention of history, and the amenity
of landscape. Although honored by his
117
THE YEAR BOOK.— FEBRUARY 23.
professional contempcaries, courted by
tl»e great, caressed by so\ erei.rtis, and ce-
lebrated by poets, yet arrogance or pre-
sumption was never visible in his coii-
dilct or conversation to the most scruti-
nizing eye. IIis talents of every kind,
and his social virtues, rendered him the
centre of many a«;reeable 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-
-lure than the man who, by precept and
oxam])le, 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 philo.vanders beyond her confines, to
show she is not under restraint."*
On Spring.
ATy srnse is ravish'd, when I sec
This happie season's Jubilee.
What shall I tei-m it ■? a new birtn :
The resurrection of the earth.
Which hath been buried, we know.
In a cold winding-sheet of snow.
The winter's breath had pav'd all o'er
W^ith crystal marble th' world's great floor ;
But now the earth is livery'd
In 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
Disclos'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 :
But now invite to come and lie,
•Under tlieir giulted canopie.f
* Bergerac's Satyrical Characters. 1658,
f Daniel Cudmore's Sacred Poems, 1655.
Alimentar-v; Calendar.
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 17th 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
the 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, aff'ord
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 a 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
uncouthness 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 order
that Quin — an eminent judge— who first
brought John Dory into fashion, bestowed
on him the title of " king of fish." 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 vege-
13 1
THE YEAK BOOK.— MARCH.
tables for t allads. Early radishes form an
ag-eeable accompaniment to the new cheese
now introduced ; the most noted is from
Bath and York, but there are delicious
cream ci)eeses 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.
Vkgetable Garden Directory.
Sow
Beans , .he 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
crops ; or for succession, if the chief crops
weie 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 thiu 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.
nig
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 or three inches high.
Stick
Peas before they incline to fall.
Hoe
Between all crops, and eradicate weeds
with the hand, where hoeing cannot be
practised.
Dest7'oy
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 flowVs that, frighten'd with sharp winter's dre&tl.
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 deficsK
132
THE YEA.K BOOK— MAECH 1.
The hedge, green «atin pink'd and cut arrays;
The heliotrope to cloth of gold aspires ;
In hundred-colored silks the tulip plays;
The imperial tlower, 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, moun'tiiig from early bed,
With sweet salutes awakes the drow^sy light;
The earth she left, and up to hoav'n is fled;
There chants her maker's praises out of sight.
Earth seems a mole-hill, m€n but ants to be ;
Reaching the proud that soar to high degree,
The further up they climb, the less they seem and see,*
mavcf) 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 country, entitled " Martis Calenda-,
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 Welchman, hanging by the
neck upon one of the poles that stand
out at the top of one of the merchant's
houses, in full 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,
is 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.
i A Companion to the Guide.
The following is the method of manu-
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 in
Midsummer Night's Dream.
Sometimes lurk I iu a gossip's bowl.
In very liken(!ss of a roasted crab.
And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob.
And on 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 Oxoniaris
who availed themselves of her care ; it is
called
Oxford Night Cap*.
133
THE Yii:AR BOOK. -MARCH 2.
BudWN \\\ 11 V.
To make a brown Uclly you must dis-
solve a |)0uud of brown sugar in a y)iiit
of water ; slice a lemon into it ; let it stand
a riuarter of an hour; then add a small
quantiiy of powdered cloves and cinnamon,
half 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 tind 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 1, 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 licretoforc, he grudges ;
He'll stand the test of able judges ;
And think that, when the hall 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),
Detain'd too long at 7iizey prizey.
Your college commons lost at six,—
At Ben's the jovial evening lix ;
From /r/pe-indenturcs, stale and dry,
Escap'd to porter and a pie.
Hilhor^ if ye have any taste,
Ye booted evidences, haste !
Ye lasses too, both tali and slim.
In riding-habits dress'd so trim.
Who, usher'd by some young attorney,
fake, each assize, an Oxford jourcey ;
AH 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.
• Oxfo-^ "Sis^ht Caps.
On the 1st of March, 1818, died
Mr. Thomas I'leasants, an opulent and
benevolent native of Ireland, lie be-
queathed his valuable collection of paint-
ings to tlie ])ul)lin Society for the en-
couragement of the fine arts in Ireland,
and k'ft £'22,000 to various charitable
uses. In his life-time his beneticence
was various and splendid. Besides con-
tinued and extensive charities within his
private circle, he gave, in a time of ge-
neral calamity, £lO,000 to the Murth
Hospital. In 1814, when 22,000 woollen
weavers of Dublin were out of employ-
ment, and sufleriiig 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, atid at an expense of £14,000
purchased ground and btiilt the Stove
Tenter House for the use of the poor
weavers of Dublin for ever. He was at
the expense of erecting tlie handsome
gates and lodges of the IJotanical Garden,
near Dublin, and, by like acts of muni-
ficence, erected imperishable monument*
to his exalted humanity and patriotisiu.
h. in>
March 1.
Day breaks . .
. 4 43
Sun rises . . .
. 6 35
— sets . . .
. 5 25
Twilight ends .
. 7 ^T
The pale purple-and-white crocus flo\v-
ers ; it reoembles the common crocus in its
markings, but more inclines to blue, and
the flower is larger; it equals in size the
common yellow crocus.
^arrf) 2;
OlH TaSIIION of TnAVELLINO.
Mr. Pennant, in his " Journey from
Chester to London," says — " In March,
1739-40, I changed my Welsh school for
one nearer to tlie capital, and travelled
in the Chester sta;^e — 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
134
THE YEAE BOOK.— JVLiUCH 2.
Northampton; the fifth, to Dunstable;
and, as a wondrous effort, on ihe 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, f'amilies 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, tiien
a hardy race, equipped in jack-boots and
trowsers, up to tlieir 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 ume than a month.
About 1670 the journey from Oxford
to London, which is under sixty miles,
occupied two days. An invention
called the *' Flymg 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 'n 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 ca;avans 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 Petvvorth ; 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 between
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-*
* ArchjEologia.
135
THE YEAR BOOK.— M ARCH 2.
FAC-SIMILE OF THE OLDEST PKINT 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-plate 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
n his lifetime, and played with. If a few
choice anecdote?, or notices concerning
chess, 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 Chf.ss,
By Pope Innocent.
This world is nearly like a Chesi Boards
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
callsd king, another queen, the third rook,
the fourth knight, the fifth alphin, the
sixth pawn.
The condition of the game is, that one
piece takes another; and, when the game
is finished, they are all de])osited toge-
ther, like man, in the same place. There
13G
THE YEAE BOOK.-MAllCH 3.
IS not any difference between tiie king and
the poor pawn; and it often happens
that, when llirown 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.
The poor pawn goes directly forward,
in his simplicity ; but he 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
poes 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 al [bins represent various prelates; a
pope, archbishop, and subordinate bi-
sliops. 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 1" whenever he insults and strikes
one with his dart of sin ; 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.
h., m
March 2. Day breaks ... 4 41
Sun rises . . . , 6 33
— sets .... 5 27
Twilight ends . . 7 19
Dauhnc mezercon often in full flower.
mard) 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 majestie,
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 assaults, usually, by some lucky hit
or other, the hawk would bring her down ;
but, one day, a most excellent hawk
being at tlie 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
SL^fficient whereby it might be known;
but all their inquiries proved ineffectual.'"
In the printed edition of Sir Anthony
Weldon's Court of king James, the ^s
sage in questiou stands thus: — "The
137
THE YEAE BOOK.— MAKCH 3.
French king sending over hie falconer
to show thai sport, his master ialconer
lay long here, but could not kill one kite,
ours being more magnanimous than the
French kite. Sir Thomas Monson desired
to have lliat flight in all exquisileness,
and to that end was at £lOO charge in
gosfaloons for that fliglit; 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 flij^ht, which was one of
the most stateliest flights of the world,
for the high mountee; the kinij went un-
willingly forth, the fliglit was showed, but
the kite went to such a mountee, as all
the field lost signt of kite and hawke and
all, ai.d neither kite nor hawke were either
seen or heanl 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 Anlhony Weldoa
as lost, in 1610, may have been the hawk
found at the Cape in 1793, and conse-
quently tends to prove the arnazin lon-
gevity ascribed to birds of prey.
Thomas Ileywood, 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 th.e 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 jesses, 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, my masters.
Cranwell. Yours miss'd her at the ferre.
Wendoll. Aye, but our Merlin first had plum'd tho 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 Maikham's
edition of the Book cf St. Alban's, 1595,
where, speaking of the fowl being found
in a river or pit, he adds, " if she (the
haw!:) nyme, or take the further side of
the river, or pit from you, then she
slayeth the fowl at fere juttie : hut if she
kill it on that side that you are on your-
self, J s 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 mallartls separate
from tlie river and feeding in tne held,
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 querre."
March 3. Day breaks . . .
Sun rises . . .
— sets ....
Twilight ends . .
Purple spring crocus flowers.
Early sulphur butterfly appears.
h. m.
4 39
6 3t
5 2
7 2;
138
THE YEAE. EOOX.-MARCH 4, 5.
ifHartf) 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, and 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-
towH 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 yon 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." He
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 liulcis saturet quics ;
Obscuro positus locc
Lcni perfruar otio "^
Chyndonax Druida.
O may this rural solitude receive.
And contemplation 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 asaforgery.
Mr. Pegge, who seemed to inherit the
antiquaria.i 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 tlie museum, says, — " The third person
writes for the emperor of Germany, or
Dr. Pocock, for lie speaks the worst
English I ever heard ; and, fourthly. Dr.
Stukeley, who writes for himself, the very
worst person he could write for."*
h. 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.
ifHawJ 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.
130
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAHCH 6.
lions. There were two sturgeons of an
hundred ecus. The fish, for the most
f)art, were sea-monsters, brought expressly
rom the coast. The fruit cost one hun-
dred and fifiy ^-cus ; and such pears were
sent to table as could not be matched for
an ^cu each.*
A poor man that liath little, and desires
no more, is, in truth, ricluT 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. —
lip. hull.
Sl'RING.
The first approach of ilie 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 littic rills o'er pebbles playing.
And sparkling as they fall, —
The memory recall
Of her on whom my heart's dcsir
Is — shall be — fix'd till I expire.
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 way*,— •
That sweet look, kindling up the blaze
Of love, so gentle still,
o wound, but not to kill, —
So that when most 1 weep and sigh.
So mucli the higher springs my joy.
liaotd de Coucy, 1190
h.
ID.
rarch 5.
Day breaKS .
,
,
4
34
Sun rises . .
.
,
6
27
— sets . .
.
.
5
3?
Twilight ends
.
,
7
26
Primroses are still common
m
gardens
m^ivti) G.
Sprikg,
This is usually noted by meteorologistij
as the first day of spring.
Sweet spring, thou com'sl 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, fittted 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 of
which no human capacity can venture the
♦ History of Paris, ili. 270.
calculation ; and each differing from the
rest in taste, color, smell, and every other
property ! IIow 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
tl'.e fish of the sea, wings the inhabitants
of the air, and directs the meanes'. insect
and reptile of the earth. lie forms their
140
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAECH 6.
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
,. , / , . -1 . , 1 cypress. So soon as this want or power
In solitude, or that deserted state where -^ J^^j ^^^ becomes a living sepulchre
\ve are surrounded by human bemgs and ^^ hirnse\f, and what vet survives is the
yet they sympathize not with us. we love ,^3,^ ^usk of what once he was.*
the flowers, 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 whis ling 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.
Birds op 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 crpss'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 I"
Oh, joyous birds, it hath still been so!
Through the halls of kings doth the tempest go I
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 l"
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,
Ye have a guide, and shall we despair?
Ye over desert and deep have pass'd—
—So shall we reach our bright home at last I **• •"•
THE YEAE BOOK.— MARCH
On the 7th of March, 1 755, died Thomas
Wilson, tlie venerable bishop of Sodor
and Man, in the ninety-third year of his
age. He \vas born of humble parents, at
Burton, a viUage in the hundred of Wirrel,
Cheshire, where his ancestors liad 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 ofTered to him in commendam, and
again 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 son : " 1
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-
summate 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 .ill their wants."
h. m.
March 7. Day breaks ... 4 30
Sun rises .... 6 23
— sets .... 5 27
Twilight ends . . 7 30
Daflfodilly, 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 yell jw
of the crocus.
Lays of the Minnesincibs.
There was once a gentle time,
Wlicn tl»e world wa« in its prime.
When every day was holiday.
And every month was lovely May,
Crolt/,
These bland verses usher, as a motto,
the " Lays of the Minnesingers, or Ger-
man Troubadours, of the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries, — with specimens
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 Minnesingers, wr.ich 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 An^lo-
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
tlie 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
Jvo. Longman and Co., 1825,
ir- j
of !
142
THE YEAE BOOK.-MAIICH 7.
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 ni}' cavallicr Frances,
E la donna Catallana,
E r onrar del Gynoes,
E la cour de Kastellana,
Lo cantar Provensalles,
E la dansa Trcvizana,
E lo corps Aragom's,
E la perla (?) Julliana,
Los mans e cara d' Angles,
E lo donzel deThuscana
T7Yinslaiion.
I like a 'cavalier Frances'
And a Catalonian dame ;
The courtesy of the Genoese,
And Castilian dignity ;
The Provence songs my ears to pleasft..
And the dance of the Trevisan ;
The graceful form of the Arragoneze,
And the pearl (?) of the Julian ;
An English hand and face to see.
And a page of Tuscany.
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 paVce at Geln-
hausen. A legend places Iiim within a
subterranean palace in the caverns of the
Ilartz Forest, reposing in a trance upon a
marble throne,with his beard flowing on the
ti;round, awakening at intervals to reward
any child of song who seeks his lonely
court.
His son and successor, the emperor,
Ileniy 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 Provencal
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 domesti-c
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 scaffold, in 1268, by the
machinations of the Pope and Charles of
Anjou.
Upon the extinction ot the Suabian
line of emperors, the minnesingers and
literature of Germany declined. Ilodolph
of Hapsbiuigh ascended the throne in
1273; and, about that period, Conrad of
Wurtzburgh, an eminent minnesinger,
lamented the fitilure 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 ;
'I'hough 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 hills 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, Rudigervon
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 Provenfal muse
143
THE YEAR BOOK.—MARCn 7.
and is more hiij]»ly and distinctively cha-
racteristic of subdued and delic;ite feeling.
It breathes the sentiments of innocent and
tender afTection — admiration of his lady's
perfections, joy in lier 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 effervescent passion
of tl'.e words. The following 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 thoe, thou fair creation.
For such pleasures as these are joy's true
foundation !
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 laws,
and to dignify all sorts of caprice with
the 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.
Chivairy and civilization only mellowed
ancient sympathies, and aroused purer
and more social affections than those
which usually characterize contemporary
Trench society and literature.
There is a marked distinction 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 the beautiful
in nature, and more of joy in her perfec-
tions. Among the lyrics of the trouba-
dours there are very few if any instances
of entire songs of 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 summer — 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 tharm, 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. Tiieir versification is
almost universally different, and must
have required tune.«: 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
bo 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.
144
THE YEAE BOOK.— MARCH
A mournful one am I, above whose head
A day of perfect bliss hath never past ;
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,
Kor pine for fading sweets and fleeting hours.
VOGELWEIDE, 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 abounde .
Walter Vogehveide seems to have begun
his career under Frederic, son of Leopold
VI. who went to the crusade in 1197,
and died in Palestine in the following
year, to the great grief of the almost infant
minnesinger.
In 1198 began the dissensions as to the
succession of tho Imperial crown ; and
Walter attached liimsoJf to Pliih*p_ of
Suabia, in opposition to the papal faction,
which supported Otho. One of the longest
of his songs is a Inmentalion on the di-
visions of his country, which proceeds, in
Vol IV
145
THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 7.
4 Strain of grrat boldness and considerable
poetic jnerit, to descant on tl\e causes of
the existing troubles, and particularly on
the part borne in them by Home. The
piece opens with a circumstantial descrip-
tion of himself in the position in which
he is drawn in the Manesse MS., seated
upon a rock (or bank of flowers), reposing
one knee on the other, with the elbow
resting on the uppermost, and the hand
covering the chin and one cheek. The
engraving, in the precedmg puge, is from
an outline of that illumination, in the
"Laysof theMinnesiniJiers;" ihe represen-
tation is curious, on account of the anti-
quity of the original, and because it
assigns to Vogelweide an emblematical ar-
morial bearing of a singing bird upon a
shield. The bearing of arms on a shield
originated during the crusades.*
His next historical piece is a song of
triumph on the coronation of Philip, in
1198, 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 Ricliard Cceur de Lion.
Many of his subsequent songs allude to the
evils which intestine war and the intrigues
of the papal couit 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 Caesar's brother and a Caesar's child.
The bride he describes as —
A thornless rose, a gall-Icss dove.
Walter's life was that of a wanderer.
With the geige and the harp he pursued
his way on horseback. " From the Elbe
to the Rhine, and thence to Hungary,
had he," as he says, ** surveyed ; — from
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 pontic 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 inculca-
tion of moral and knightly virtue, and are
often of a highly liberal and philosophic,
and not unfrequently 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 mc is barr'd the door of joy and ease;
There stand I as an orphan, lone, forlorn.
And nothing boots mc that I frequent knock.
Strange that on every hand the shower should
fall.
And not one cheering drop should reach to me !
On all around the gcn'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 gcn'rous hand
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 disturbances.
These calamities wrung from his muse a
soiig 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 wi.Hhes, in a burst of gratitude to
146
THE YEAR BOOK.— IMARCH 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 pieces, altliou<>h he was not so
much distinguished for gaiety as others
of the Minnesingers.
II is touching accents in 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 jjrcst
That I would fain have seen no more
The red flowers that the meadows drest :
Yet, truth ! 'twere hard, if I were gone.
Upon the merry-making throng,
'J'liat 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 crafty policy of the see of Rome, and
the mischiefs that resulted from investing
tlie 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
befiting the land which was to be the
CI adle 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 an old
tradition, that the twelve real or imaginary
" 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
During thirty eventful years
gion m lofty strains of devotion^ feeline
In one of his last eff^orts, 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 tliee, oh world, good night !
I haste me to my home
It does not appear where Walter spent
the latter period of his life, subsequently
to his expedition to the Holy Land, it all
events it was after a long absence, and in
old age, that !ie 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 visitin'-s proceed ?
Yes I 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 ! that e'er such change should come ')
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 vivus, Walthere, fuisti.
Qui flos eloquii, qui Palladis os, obiisti !
Ergo quod aureolam probitas tua possit ha-
bere,
Qui legit, hie dicat — " Deus istius miserere ! **
hirmuse°was devoted to 'tlYeYen'ice'o^his ,, ^* j' stated, on the same authority, that
of the ^ogelweide, by his last will, dictated
a bequest, beautifully accordant with the
father-land, and, to the admiration
beauties of nature, and to the praise of
female virtue. At an after period he says,
" Forty years and more have [ sung of
love." He attained to an advanced age,
little blest by the gifts of fortune, but,
with an increasing love for his country,
zealously inculcating the precepts of reli-
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 Alinnesingen.
147
THE YEAR BOOK.—MARCH 8.
[Original.]
REMEMBER
Remember, remember, the vow so early made,
Bv the marble fountain's side, 'neath tlie spreading palm tree's shade;
When the distant sun was sinking, and ti\ou swore by him on liigh,
On the bosom that then pillow'd thee, tc five — 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 tliee 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 tliat 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 kntel to thee in death, with a blessing and a prayer
S. II. S
ifHatcfi 8.
The Chancellor'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 Aiding on the floor some silver
spangles and odd ends of silver. Her
curiosity was awakened ; she pryed further,
and looking through the keyhole of the
door to li locked closet perceived what
she ima^med to be the royal crown. She
hasteneJ down stairs, and cried out," Oh
mother . rcother ! yonder's the king's crown
in our closet ! Fray 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 men 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 tlie 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 higli
chancellor of England, at the sessions held
at Justice Hall in the Old Baily." On the
arraignment of the prisoners, aud before
the evidence was taken, " the principal
of tho5e 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 1
may be clear of the blood of these other
three persons." The court was surprised
by this premature avowal, and quite as
mi'ch when, one of the witnesses deposing
148
THE YEAE BOOK.— MARCH 9.
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 hi 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 Cha.-
foneans, 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 upon the occasion— a table
-covered with all sorts of vegetables was
then set forth.*
* Fosbroke's Encyclopaedia of Antiquitiea.
h. m.
March 8. . Day breaks ... 4 28
Sun rises . . .6 21
— sets .... 5 39
Twilight ends . 7 32
Peach in bloom. By this time the
apricot is fully out.
mavtff a
Great 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 en
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-
cliflfe 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 vi'hich there was one ship of 900
tons burthen, another of 500, one of 400,
and the rest smaller. These ships had
English names, yet it is doubtfulwhether
at that time ships of so largo 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 ships 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, with a well-wishing
admiration, and shortly heare of the same
ship splitted against some dangerous rock,
or wracked by some disastrous tempest,
* Anderson.
149
THE YEAR BOOK.—MARCH 10.
or sunk by some leake sprung in lier by
some accident, me seemeth 1 see the case
of some couil-fuvourite, who, to-day, like
Sejanus, dazzleth all men's eyes with tlie
splendour of his glory, and with the proud
and potent beake of his powerful pros-
perity, cutieth the waves and ploweth
through the prease of the vulgar, and
scorneth to feare some remora at his keele
below, or any crosse winds from above,
and yet to-morrow, on some stor ns of
unexpected disfivour, springs a leake in
his honour, and smkes on the Syrtes of.
disgrace, or, dashed 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. Wancick.
Enough, I reckon wealth ;
That mean, 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 afrordcth health.
I clip high-climbing thoughts,
The wings of swelling pride ;
Their fall is worst that from the heigh
Of greatest honour slide.
Since sails of largest size
The storm doth soonest tear ,
I bear so low and small a sail
As freeth me from fear.
I wrestle not with rage.
While fury's flame doth burn ;
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 :
1 know I feed and clothe a foe.
That pamper'd would repine.
I envy not their hap
whom favour doth advance •
1 take no pleasure in their pain
That have less happy chance.
To rise by others' fall
I (Iccni a losing gain ;
All states with others' ruin built.
To ruin run amain.
No change of fortune's calm
Can cast my comforts down ;
When fortune smilct, I smile to think
liow quickly she will frown.
And when, in frowarJ mood.
She prov'd an angry foe ;
Small 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
mavcfi 10.
March 10, 1643, Mr. Evelyn, being at
Ilartingfordberry, saw, what exceedingly
amazed liim, " 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 aurora
borealis.
Proverbs on the Weather
If red the sun begins his race.
Expect that rain will fall apace.
The evening red, the morning gray.
Are certain signs of a fair day.
If woolly fleeces 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 towerf«
The earth's refresh'd by frequent showers.
150
THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 11. 12.
b. 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.
Penny-loaf Day at Newark.
[For the Year Book.]
On the llth 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
boroue;h of Newark. During the siege,
in the" night of the llth 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
to be in perfect safety ; soon afterwards, a
bomb from a battery 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 £I00 to the
vicar of Newark, for a sermon to be
preached every llth 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
they 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
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.
h. m.
March 11 Daybreaks ; . 4 21
Sun rises ... 6 15
— sets .... 5 45
Twilight ends . . 7 39
Lungwort, or cowslip of Jerusalem,
flowers.
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 aflect 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 U. He had
been easy with the gay and frolicsome
Charles II., 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 of the
forces, colonel and captain of the horse-
guards, justice in Eyre, lord lieutenant
and custos rotulorum of the county of
Ess^^x. 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 Ensfland. 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 fa
the performance of the part of RoxanJi
on the stage; influenced by violent love,
and unable to succeed in his ptirpose 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 daughter
of Friezeland.*
• Noble.
151
Till-: YF.AK BOOK.-MARCII 12.
HISS!" " HUSH 1"- AWFUL SOUNDS.
Peter PairsTi.Y, Parish Clerk of
Wakefield.
[For the Year Book.]
About the year 1790, a sturdy veteran,
one Peter Prieslley, was clerk, sexton,
and gravestone cutter, at the beautiful
parish cliurch of Wakefield in Yoikshire.
lie wa-s 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 lon^ 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 t3sk. The church
clock had some time struck eleven, and
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 express id than by the word
'*hiss," or "hush."
Recovering from his surprise, Peter
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 qi)it the church Nshen
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 more to do than
152
THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 13.
examine and touch up his new letters, was
surveying them with downcast iiead, and
more than ordinary minuteness, when
•ouder than ever came upon his ear the
dreadful note — "iiiss!"
And now in truth he stood appalled.
Fear Iiad 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
\vas now himself to be laid among —
*' Whole rows of kindred and acquaintacc«»
By far his juniors."
With tottering gait, however, Peter now
went liome, 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
•\vith vehemence — " Oh Peter ! what hast
thou been doing to burn all t'liair 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
limperfect 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
know of) 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.
Wakefie^xd has been the scene of many
interesting adventures, which ought not to
be lost tlirough supineness and false no-
tions. 1 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,
and, strange to relate, actually kept the
secret to the last moment of her existence
N. S.
lilorlei/, near Leeds, Yorkaldre.
Janucry 31, 1831.
March
12.
Day breaks
h.
4
m
19
•^un rises . . .
6
13
— sets . . .
Twilight ends . .
Coltsfoot flowers by road- sides
5
7
47
41
mavcff 13.
March 13, 1661, Mr. Evelyn sets down
in his diary,—" This afternoon. Prince
Rupert shewed me with his own hand the
new way of graving, called mezzotinto,
which after\>ards I published in my ^ Guard, three
with Halberts ) ( couples
Captain of the Guard Grimes
Raron of the Grand Port . Dudlei,
Baron of the Base Port . Grante
Gentlemen for Entertainment
three couples . . Binge, &:.
Baron of the Petty Port . Williams
Baron of the New Port . Lovel
Gentlemen for Entertainment Wentworlh
three couples Zukenden
Forrest
Lieutenant of the Pensioners Tonstrecincts of this sacred Room,
Hut I am struck wita a religious fear,
Which says " Let no profane eye enter here."
Witlj imai^ery from lleav'n the walls are clothed,
MakinjT the things of Time seem vile and louihed.
Spare Saints, whose bodies seem sustained by Love
With Martyrs old in meek procession move.
Here kneels a weeping Magdalen, less bright
To human sense for her blurr'd cneeks; in sight
Of eyes, new-touch'd by lleav'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 \'irgins 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, whj 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. LAMP.
marcf^ 20.
Good Friday
Is the Friday before Easter. Anciently
it was a custom with the kings of Eng-
land on Good Friday to nallow, 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 ha^'e 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
Breviary of Health, 1557, speaking of the
cramp, says — " The kynge's Majestiehath
31 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
gracs" *
In illustration of the custom of "making
the sepulchre" at Easter, there is this pas-
sage towards the end of a sermon preach-
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 custome hath here this day
bene used, everyone of you or ye departe,
with moost entire devocyon, 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 honoure of hym, of his passyon and
* Brand.
178
THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 21.
lieathe, and of his five woundes, to say
five Pater-nosters, five Aves, and one Ende,
that it may please his raercifuU goodness
to* make us partenersof the merites of this
his most gloryous passyon, bloode, and
deathe."
Of the remarkable usages on Good Fri-
day there are large accounts in the Every-
Day Booky 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 v»^ell re-
membered.
A provincial newspaper, of about the
year 1810, contains the following para-
graph : — " Good-Friday was observed with
the 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
evening, 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."
i*lar(ft 21.
Earl of Totness.
George Carew, Earl of Totness, who
disd 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 arts. 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 L, on his accession,
created him Earl of Totness. He was
not less distinguished by his pen than his
sword. In his book « Pacata Hibefnia,"
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 eulogize-
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.*
Batchelorising.
In March, 1798, died, aged eighty-four,
at his house in the neighbourhood of
Aentish 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 on
being carried to the cellar door, and, on
its being opened, he in person delivered
out one bottle. By his removal for th.it
purpose from a warm bed into a dark
humid vault, he was seized with a shiver-
ing fit, which lerniinated in an apoplectic
stroke, and occasioned his death. He
♦ Penaant.
179
THE YEAR BOOK.--MARCH
had an inveterate antipathy to the mar-
riage state, and discarded his brother, the
only relative lie iiad, for not continuing
like Ijimseif, a bachelor. On examining
his effects, it appeared that he had
£25,000 in different tontines, £l 1,000 in
the four per cents., and £2000 in landed
property. In a room which had been
closed for fourteen years were found
173 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 njan 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.
Hall.
h. m.
March 21.
Day breaks
. 3 .59
Sun rises . . .
. 5 56
•
— sets . . .
. 6 4
Twilight ends .
. 6 1
Blue honndstongue in full flower.
Lesser petty chaps sings.
murcf) 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 jnovahle 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 full 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.
customs at Easter, the practice of" stoning
Jews Ml 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 hpli-
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 Ungues, his chap-
lain, to beat a Jew, according to annual
custom at the Easter festival. Ungues
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.*
Among the abundant information in
the Every-Day Book concerning former
Tnr, TiKST Easter.
It happen'd, on a solemn even-tide.
Soon after He that was our surety died.
Two bosom friends, each pensively inclin'd.
The scene of all those sorrows left behind.
Sought their own village, busied, as they went.
In musings worthy of the great event :
They spake of him they lov'd, 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 appear'd to have
done ;
To exak a people and to make them high
Above all else, and wonder'd he should die.
Ere yet they brought their journey to an end,
A stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend,
And ask'd them, with a kind engaging air,
WJiat their aflliction was, and bcgg'd a share,
Inform'd, he gathcr'd up the broken thread.
And, truth and wisdom gracing all he said_,
Explaind, illustrated, and search 'd so well.
The tender theme on which they chose te
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. Mas:.
History o.' ParM, iii. 265.
180
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAKCH ^;i, 24.
And left them both exclaiming, 'Twas the
Lord!
Did not our hearts feel all he deign'd to say ?
Did they not burn 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
m^tCi) 23.
Easter Monday.
To the full accounts in the Every-Day
Book of the celebration of Easter Mon-
day and Tuesday, and the Easter holidays,
in ancient and modern 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
pudding-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 hi-ought 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 archa;ological notice. It
is not mentioned by Hasted.
n. m.
March 23. Day breaks . . 3 56
Sun rises ... 5 52
— sets .... 6 8
Twilight ends ..85
Yellow star of Bethlehem flowers.
mavcf) 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 her
character, and a sufticiency 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 policy 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
suffered 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,
rufls, 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 ruffs 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 frc;m
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.ng-
land, which he brought from Italy. He
presented the queen with a pair of per-
fumed gloves, and her portrait waa
painted with them upon lior 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
181
THE YEAR BOOK.- MARCH 24.
as grotesque an sppeurance, as his coun-
Irynian Don Quixote with the barber's
bason.
The Rev. Mr. John More, of Norwich,
one of the worthiest clergymen in the
reign of Elizabeth, gave th^ best reason
that could be given for vvearing the
longest and largest beard of any Englisli-
man of his time; namely, " that no act
of his life might be unworthy of the
gravity of his appearance." Mr. Granger
wisl)es 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 t-his time the stays, or boddice,
were worn long-waisted. Lady Ilunsdon,
the foremost of the ladies in the engraving
of the procession to Ilunsdon House, ap-
pears with a much longer waist than those
that follow her. She might possibly
have been a leader of the 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,*'
are tliese lines : —
* Shoe was, shcc is, what can there more be
said ?
In earth the first, in heaven the second maid,*'
Theuphilus Gibber says these lines were
an epigram by Budgell upon the death
of a very fine young woman : they are
the last verses of an inscription mentioned,
in the " View of London, 1708," to have
been on a cenotaph of queen Elizabeth
in Bow church.
A proclamation, dated lo63, in the
hand -writing of secretary Gecil, proliibits
" 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 Wy ethers followed, &c., and for
that hir majestic perceiveth that a grete
nomber of hir Idving subjects are much
greved and take grete offence with the
errors and deformities allrtdy comnnitted
by 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 " Galalogue 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 on ea
whole length by Grispin de Pass, who
published portraits of illustrious persons
of this kingdom from the year 1500 to
the beginning of the seventeenth century.*
A STRANGE COMPLAINT.
A medical gentleman, in the neighbour-
hood of Leeds, received the following
letter from one of his patients :
« Sur,
" I weesh yew wood koom an see me — I
av got a bad kould — eel in my Bow hills —
an av lust my Happy tide.
'< Sur,
" Yer umbel Sarvent."
h. m.
24 Day breaks
. 3 52
Sun rises . ' ,
. 5 50
— sets . . .
. 6 10
Twilight ends .
. 8 8
nettle flowers.
A DAY IN SPRING.
[To Mr. IloNE.]
January 20, 1831.
My DEAR Sir,
I am one of those who try to find
" sermons in stones, and good in every
thing," and, ^rom a long-continued indul-
gence in this whim, my head has become
a regular hold of " common-places," and
a tolerably complete verbal concordance.
The bare mention of a name will lead
oftentimes to a chain of thoughts that
• Granger.
182
THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 24.
might almost compass the world ; and the
most trifling incident awaken associations
Avhich if carried out into all their ramifi-
cations, M'ould 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 " cj^roitifegl" as I have
here " fOmpilit," 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
liarassed to throw off 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 wliich I was
surrounded, I first "came to myself" on
the brink of a little hollow scooped like
that of Cowper, by Kilvvick's echoing
wood,
— I judge in ancient time.
For baking earth, or burning 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 anr
thing pleasing, and yet with the whole,
throwing into the scale the circumstances
under wbich 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 gliropse.
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 below 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 Pica
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- excluded light" sleeping in
patches on the shadowy verdure below.
From tliese 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 of
solitude," like stars peeping through the
cool twilight, or young hopes, hallowed in
their birth by those boyish tears not un-
frequcnilyshed over a fancied disappoint-
ment.
183
THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 24.
The coach suddenly drew up where a
by-road bruncl\es oH" to tlie rrght, and the
clattering ot hoofs, and rumbling of wheels,
were in an instant exchanged for a silence
vilvich seemed deeper from the quick
transition by whicii we had passed into it.
A beautiful meadow, sloping down with a
tolerably sharp rleclivity from the road,
and intersected by a narrow path, led
toward a coppice on which the young
moon looked through the dim haze sur-
roundins it, serving by its feeble liglit
rather to foster than dissipate the pleasing
illusion which lent to the distant land-
scape charms to 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 tone, 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 th^
town whither we were destined, iimumer-
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
U5 tiiat we had arrived at the end of
our journey. As we crossed the bridge,
I looked over the melancholy waters
tovN ards the church which stood above their
brink, and, in an old ivy-grown mansion
adjoining, noticed the glimmer of a
lonely taper strugu;ling througli 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 moraing I was up be-
times and enjoying the freshness of a
glorious Spring morning as I stood in tlie
dim shadows projected by a street irregu-
larly built, with three or four neat white
^'ables (between which a youner hme or
lilac glanced and shivered in the clear ( ool
sun light) looking into it. At its /aither
end, the narrow river swept sluugishly
onward, though that amusing trifler l*epys
had given it credit for greater vivacity
when he chronicled it as "passing swiftly
by." On the opposite side tho green
pastures sloped down to bathe their
fringes in its tide, and beyond their clear
crisp rims the heavens glowed witli 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 whicli 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 morn
v.'hich 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 frosty boughs with beauteous
shade,
Wliose leafy skirts, swayed by the passing
breeze.
Appear in starry gossamer arrayed ;
Whilst o'er the spare-clad summits, ill at case.
The rooks wheel round their noisy cavalcade.
Or, as on some tall treach'rous spray they
swing.
Scream out their fears, and spread the
cautious wing.
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, 1 gazed on the old church
tower, which, seen in shade, exhibited a
bold outline against the misty amphi-
theatre of hills beyuiid it.
184
THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 24.
MAIDSTONE CHURCH.
I had wandered oft»entimes up and
down its long-drawn aisles, and whilst I
admired the grace and beauty of its
Gothic arches and lace-work windows, now
despoiled of those heraldries, the warm
glow of which had slept on the massive
columns separating them from the nave,
had thought of Byron and of Newstead
with its mighty window —
** Shorn of iu glass of thousand colorings.
Through which the deepened glories used to
enter,
Streaming from off the sun-ake serapn s
wings.
I had heard the noble organ scalteruig its
ere those dim dewy house-tops intervene,
So softened down, as through the pearly Iiaze
It trembles forth upon the noiseless scene.
Like the meek moon-hcam when its lustre strays
O'er the still waters* melancholy sheen —
Or those . mild gleamings 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 anil nodding grove, but still iu doubt
Deem it some fairy scene of transient grace.
Till the quick sun-burst streaks the motley
lieighl
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 flashing corn, —
So Hope breaks forth to light us through the
grave.
Whilst giant Faith, on stedfast wing upborne.
Finds all thatFear can want, orWeakuess crave.
Safe where essential day knows no declining,
Suns cannot set, nor moons withhold their
shining. D. A.
London.
mnVCi) 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
bowling-green, and the fences, plantations,
and husbandry in such admirable order
as infinitely delighted me — observing al-
most every tall tree to have a weathercock
on the top bough, and some trees half-a-
dbzen. 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 yeat.
if«iirrt) 26.
WiTCU-FINDING AT MeWCASTLE.
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 coi.demn as
witches, and free passage thither and
back. When the Serjeants brought the
wilch-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 the per-
son appointed. Thirty women were
brought into the Town Hall, and had pins
thrust into their flesh, and most of tliem
were found guilty. The witch-finder ac-
quainted lieut. col. Ilobson, 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, ihe 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 Northumbeiland, to try women
there, c.nd got three pounds a-piece; but
188
THE YEAE BOOK.-MAECH
Henry Ogle, esq., laid hold 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 detecterd 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 ^'pit them afterwards
into bye-standers' hands. As the judge
went down stairs out of the court, an
hideous old woman cried, " God bless
your worship." " 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 Veep her for Is. 6d. there, and in
ihe gaol she cost them a shilling more."
There is a passage to the following
purport, which is much to the presenf
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 Roeords, Ncvrcastle, 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 Gentleman'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 affrighted at the poor creature,
were immediately said to be bewitched
The mother sends for the parish priest,
and tlie 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 cand'e
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 tlie
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.
189
THE YEAR BOOK. -MARCH 27.
and tl>eir wives, by tying threads about
them; and they bleed the supposed
witch to preserve themselves from her
charms.*
March 20 Day breaks
Sun rises . .
— sets . . ,
Twilight ends .
Scopoli's henbane flowers.
h. m.
3 47
5 46
6 14
8 13
ittiirrfi 27.
March 27, 1625, king 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 1., 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 ruff*aL.d 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 continued
to be 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
boyi, in London, was that of the time
190
THE YEAR BOOK.— MARCH 28, 29, 30.
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, there
was in the wardrobe in the tower a great
variety of dresses of our ancient kings ;
which, to the regret of antiquaries, wer?
soon given away and dispersed *
h. m.
March 27
Day breaks . . 3 45
Sun rises ... 5 44
— sets . . . • 6 16
Twilight ends . . 8 15
maVC^ 28.
Welsh Surnames.
Oil March 28th, 1738, died Mrs Ithell,
wi^feof Benedict Ithell, deputy paymaster
of Chelsea college, respecting whom, or
Mrs. Ithell, nothing more is known than
that Mrs. Ithell'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, Parry, Proger, Prichard, Pugh,
&c., instead of Ap-Owel, Ap-Harry
Ap-Roger, Ap-Richard, Ap-Hugh.f
March 28. Day breaks .
Sun rises . .
— sets . . .
Twilight ends .
h. m.
. 3 42
. 5 42
. 6 18
. 8 18
ifWartl) 29.
Horse and Man.
In March, 1 759, the annexed appeared
as an advertisement in the Public Ad-
vertiser.^" To be Sold, a fine grey mare,
* Granger,
t Vobles.
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 io 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.
29
Day breaks
. 3 40
Sun rises . .
. 5 40
— sets . . .
. 6 20
Twilight ends
. 8 20
IHarcD 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 of
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, though the mountain
pride ?
CALlfj
THE YEAR BOOK.—MAKCH 31.
Let, then, the violcta tlu-ir fraganco broatho,
Aud pines their ever vortlunt branches wreaUi
Amund l»i» grave, who, from their iiiulcr birth,
Uprear'd both Dwarf and Giant Sots of Earlli,
And, though himself exotic, lived to see
Trees of his raising droop as well as l»e.
Those were his care, while his own bending
age
His master propt, and .-.crecncd from winter's
^ "ge ;
Till down he gently fell ; then, with a tear.
He bade his sorrowing son transplant him here.
But, though in weakness planted, ns his fruit
Always bespoke the goodness of his root,
The spirit quickening, he had power to rise.
With leaf unfading, under happier skies."
March 30.
Day breaks
Sun rises
— sets . .
Twilight ends
h. m.
3 37
5 38
6 22
8 33
Bath PnopnEcv.
On the 30th 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
truly unhappy, and instig^ated crowds of
visitors to quit tlic city. Tlie portentotis
hour, 12 o'tiock, passed, and tlie believers
were ashamed of their former fears. The
alarm is said to have orisjinaied with two
noted cock-feeders, who lived near the
before mentioned hills; they had been at
a public house, and, after much boastin;;
on both sides, made a match to fight their
favorite cocks on Good Triday, 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
cars of some credulous being.3 who took
the words in their plain sense; and, as
stories seldom lose by being repeated,
eaci) 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.
March 31.
Day breaks
Sun rises .
h.
. 3
. . 5
m.
35
36
— sets . .
Twilight ends
. 6
. 8
24
25
The Season.
The msect-world, now sunbeams higher climb.
Oft dream of spring, and wake before their time.
Bees stroke their little legs across tlieir wings,
And venture short flig.hts 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 muffled 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
Ar J lost — nor see to-morrow's April flower
Clare.
192
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL.
APRIL.
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 come,
And takes the maid thy early flowers.
To tempt her steps from home.
Clare's SJiepherd^s Calendar,
Vol. IV,
193
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL.
Ersry page of Clare's " Shepherd's
Caler.dar" teems with charmin;; scenery,
wiiich 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 chilJ,
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 tills her lap with flowers.
The field and garden's lovely hours
Begin and end with thee ;
For what's so swet 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 daffodil 1
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 ling' ring snows.
Thy open'd leaves, and ripcn'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 birth belongs to thee.
1 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 th;it blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too dc»»p for tears.
Wordsworth.
I cannot restrain myself from
bringing together many " a shred and
patch" on the beginning of the Natural
Vear
Spring ! of hope, and »ove, 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 1 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 tho 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 discompos-
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
tranquil solitude.
A correspondent selects, chiefly from
our elder writers, some beautiful passages
on the Spring, which bursts upon us in
this sweet month. Pot'ts sing of it as a
jubilee of life, love and liberty, to nature.
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-pil'd
The cloudy rack slow journeying in the west.
Like herded elephants ; nor felt, nor prest.
Cool grass, nor tasted the fresh slumberous air f
— Quit the carking cares of the world, —
come with me for a day into the couutry
194
THE YEAR BOOK.— APBIL.
— 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 wailful 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!— Mere 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 are 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
season : it is connected with many an
early association. I delight to follow and
trace it far back, into the years of child-
hood,
I And find no end, in wanderir mazes lost,
I 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 ! To what
point of our infancy are we to refer the
first dim and shadowy associations ? How
can we trace the early dawning of
tl at 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, ngain, by vnaf insensible gra-
dations do we progress > the laughing
thoughtlessness of boyhood I Oh I 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 happiest
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 ?
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,
and jolly pastimes, that will fetch the day
about from sun to sun, and rock the tedi
Qus 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 spleudor in the grass, of glory in the flower !
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. 1 lately met
with a passage, written some years ago,
in a periodical work, which finely and
feelingly expresses all that 1 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
far-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 very winds of heaven
195
THE YEAR BOOK— APHIL.
seem slowly and fondly to pass over it,
and the little summer birds sin^^ more
cheerily amid its holy solitude. Since I
have seen it, I have not been conscious of
feeling any emotion allied lo evil. Indeed,
"what could make the heait evil-disposed
Rmona; such general peace and happiness ?
No mind can withstand the influence of
fair and lovely scenery, and the calmness
of a fine summer-eveniner, 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,
with gazing on "that little pearle of pulchri-
tude," the primrose; and now the sun is
verging towards the west, " with all his
gay apparelling of clouds,'* we will
bend our sober steps homewards. —
Tell me, do you not feel haj»pier since
you left town in the morning t Do you
not breathe more freely, and feel more
cheerful, and "wear more of that herb called
hearts-ease in your bosom ?" Do you
not return with gentler and kindlief dis-
positions towards your fellow-creatures,
and with an inclination to look on the
favorable aspect of tilings? 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 the
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 lo 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 which wc behold
Is full of blessings. — "
Let us, then, go abroad in the early
year, and allow " spring's first voluptuous
paintinc'S, when she breathes her first
6W eet kisses," to *' trt rable o'er our frames."
So that our disembodied thoughts.
Loosed from the load of worlds, may h)git
ascend.
Beyond the empyrean.
In the goodly summer season, let us havo
our quiet nmsings, as we stroll through
the luxuriant meadow,
Or by the osiers of a rivulet.
Fall ankle deep in lilies of the vale,
or pur«ue the chequeied woodland pat
way.
Winding through palmy fern and rushes fenny
And ivy \ unks ; leading full pleasantly
To a wide lawn, whence one can only sec
Stems thronging all around, between the swell
Of turf and slanting branches ; who can tell
The freshness of the space of heaven above,
Edg'd round with dark tree tops ? through
which a dove
Doth often 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 furze
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-off 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 beechen
tree," and under " its cirque of shedded
leaves," reclining on " daisies vermeil-
rimmed 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 and
blood,
Our pastime and our happiness may grow.
In Autumn, too,
When barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day.
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue j
When in a wailful choir the small gnats raouru
Among the river swallows, borne 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 sides;
196
THE YEAK BOOK.-APKIL.
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 j
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 j
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 and 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, fiiend Hone, who has
gathered for us, into his charming 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 every 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 graceful 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
Et/mturgA, March, 1831.
« 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.
A. TT.
197
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL.
Alimentary Calf.ndak.
The festival of Easter, which usually
falls towards tlie commencement of April,
is the epoch at which grass-iamb 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.
Ilolibut, in this and the two followiiig
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.
Ilis 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 oft' 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, tliat
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 during this and the
following month only. Brighton soles
are in request, a^d 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 abundance, and in full
roe, on which account they are not so
much esteemed, by epicures, as at their
second appearance, late in the autumn,
when tliey 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-
nient 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 <^n tables of taste. t
Vegetable Garden Directory.
(March.*)
Sow
Beans ; the long-pod, toker. Sandwich,
and Windsor, once or twice during the
month.
Peas ; Prussians, 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 rue ; 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
tran»potition.
198
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 1.
Transplant
Eariy cabbages, and autumn-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, when the blood is fres.i,
the spirits pure and vigorous, not only to
vital but to rational facuhies, 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 peop'e 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
solidest and sublimest points of contro-
versy and new inventions, it betokens us
not degenerated, nor drooping to a fatal
decay ; but casting off 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 strong 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 the twilight, flutter about, amazed
at what she means, and in their envious
gabble would prognosticate a year of sects
and schisms. — Milton,
^pril 1.
April Fool Day.
Scarcely any thing can be added to the
numerous particulars in the Everi/-Daj,
Book concerning the customs of to-day.
The most popular usage that remains is
referred to by the " Spectator," while
telling of the Jack Puddings of Eng-
land, who made merriment by appearing
inafoorscoat,andcommittingblunders: —
** 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 the following
verses by a native, extracted from an Amer-
ican Journal.
April Day.
This day to common love is dear.
And many a tale will sooth thine car.
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 1
'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 clicck
Fades with the fear that cannot speak.
My pangs thy sparkling jest improve ;
And, while I tremble, how much guile
Lurks in thy lip and points thy smile —
The smile which stings, yet wakens love !
Thine eye — a scorching fire is there ;
For, though 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, '
When spell-bound in thy sphere they rove:
My malice as thy pride is great —
There is no language fib* my hate.
Unless it tells thee — that I love f
199
THE YEAR BOOK—APRIL 1
CRADLE AND CHAIR OF JAMES VI. OF SCOTLAND.
200
THE YEAE BOOK.— APRIL 1.
Tite 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
of 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 " Allan-a-Maut" in
the Table Book. As Archaeological curi-
osities, which have not been published
before, the present inadequate memorials
of their form are placed before the reader.
The eldest cradle of which tnere 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 selfsame
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. Warren 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 great 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 khe reformation of the
year by the Julian and Gregorian Calen-
ders, and the adaptation of the period of its
commencement to a different 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 asra of the com-
mencement of the year ; yet, on both
continents, some very remarkable trait«
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 Peaice (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 Every
Dai/ Book, 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 Origix. or All-Fool Day,
Which happened in the Isle of Chiekock, on the
1th of the moon Ni-ada, which, in the Euro-
pean Calender, makes the First of April —
An Eastern Tale.
Ye sportive nymphs who on Parnassus play.
Though old as ages, — ^young and ever gay !
* Maurice vi. 71— 74: Sketch of the Reli-
gion of ihc Hindoos, ii. 52—57 ; cited in Fos.
broie's Enc. of Antiquities.
201
THE YEAR BOOK.— APHIL 1.
O hither wing from Parna's flow'ry side,
Through aerial oceans cleave the liquid tide :
Fe«d, feed your vol'ry, while he sound* the
strings.
With gcn'rous draughts from Helicon's pure
springs !
In days of yore as orient legends sing.
In Chickock'a isle there reign'd a righteous
king.
The hcav'nly virtues in his heart were stor'd.
His subjects lov'd liiin, and the gods ador'd j
Uut siill, 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,
Pussa, the fair, a friend to virtuous queens.
This th* enchanter heard, and, raging wild,
Denounc'd destruction on the queen and child.
The blue-eyed elves all hailed the happy morn
With joys extatic, when the prince was born ;
Their comely queen thrice kiss' d the babe, and
cries,
*' Reign like thy sire, be virtuous, just, and
wise."
But soon dark gloom obscur'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 bis foe !
Her trembling soul could not sustain the fright.
But sought the regions of eternal light I
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, rScamma 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, tthereal, blue, and bright,
And to celestial worlds betook her flight.
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, on
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 jterial fields he ficw
His beaming car, which four grey dragons
djevr;
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 valleys rung^
For terror chain'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 scorn'd his rising fame to stain.
And vow'd to meet him, fearless, on tlic plaiO;
He hail'd fair Pussa and the heavenly choir
And she appear'd, in clouds of flaming fire j
With her right hand Ciongock she defied.
And with her left a talisman she tried ;
On it " Mamu Amxida* 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 talisman 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'erwhclming rock ,
But, helpless he ! Mamu Amuda's glow
The rock dissolv'd like show'rs of vernal snow.
At last a mighty flood he form o, and, sad to
say !
He, with himself, I'Scamma swept away 1
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 enroU'd him in the list of gods.
And stemm'd the roaring torrent for liis sake ;
And there I'Scamma stands, u stagnant lake.
Thus fell the best of princes from his throne.
But why it happen'd, know the gods alone.
On that dread day a hallow'd fast w;.s made.
And yearly tributes to his mem'ry paid ;
The parents sent their lovely offspring swift.
To seek their god, and ask a yearly gift ;
But him theif found not, yet, for his dear sake,
Cast stones of vengeance in the stagnant lake.
" Go seek I'Scamma," says the virtuous vife,
" He'll tell thee if I love thee as my life."
The husband goes, but him he cannot find.
Yet seeks the lake to case his vengeful mind.
" Go seek I'Scamma of immortal fame,"
The mother says, ** Thy husband he will
name ;"
'Ilie daughter goes ; — no soothing power
appears.
And soon returns dsssolv'd in doubtful tears.
So did those customs to his mem'r}' rise.
From babes that lisp, to sages who are wise.
From Chiekock's Isle, told by some sacred
man,
The story got abroad, and rea< h'd Japan,
From thence by story-tellers it was hurl'd
Into these islands of the western world
202
THE YEAR BOOK.--APRIL 2.
Till in its 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 All-fool Day appears.
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 efficacy, 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."*
h. m.
3 32
5 34
6 26
8 28
April 1. Day breaks .
Sun rises . ,
— sets . . .
Twilight ends
The ash flowers.
Field rush flowers.
Banks are corered with primroses,
0ptil 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-
ful pocket campanion, and, being on the
table at the present moment, affords the
following passages : —
On Spring, Birds, Insects, &c.
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 off" 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 they 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 and 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 world, 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 is
really no place free from the winged
seeds of the syngenesis of Linnaeus. Also,
as all the buds and leaves upon a living
tree are in a state fit for growing, the
pruning 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 loosened earth, is all per-
fume, without any of the heaviness of that
which comes from particular substances.
The turned sod shows us that we have
not in all our chemical apparatus anelem-
bic like the earth.*
• Bayle, art Cardan.
• British Naturalist, vol. li. p. 104— 10^.
203
THE YEAR BO OK.— APRIL 2.
Clear had the day Locn from the dawn.
All chequered was the sky.
Thin clouds, 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 erabroider'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 p*:rfumes.
DRAYTON.
Almon-o-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 in
mirth over the afternoon's bottle, slipped
aside to enjoy half an hour's sober thouglit
and salutary air. An almond-tree, in the
centre of the garden, presented an immense
luft 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
Jie vegetable tribe besides, and the ad-
'acent 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 trouble 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 nourishment
sent up to the leaves of the 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 tl:e sliglitest
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
moh.t essential part of the whole — is tliat
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 flow*»r 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
regtilarly- 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 tlie 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 singla
fruit, for each flower produces no more.
Yet, surely, twenty-r^ine in thirty had not
been created in vain. It was not long
before the mystery was explained to rae
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 (A
one of the branches; and, for a moment,
seemed to enjoy the scene as I did. She
just gave me time to admire her sleek,
silky coat, and glossy wings, before nho
*>01
THE YEAE BOOK.— APEIL 2.
plunged into a full 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 whale, or with any ap-
pearance of the dust in its cavity.
Tired with enjoyment, she now walked
out, and appeared to have paid for the.
mischief she had done ai 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 tv/ig, 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 particle 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 08" 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 round 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 rdling 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 furnish 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 done, 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 insect 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 eaten by the swarm,
and, after it has been retained in the
stomach long enough to be divested of
its nutritive qualities, it is disgorged 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 office to which it is
destined, is a purpose, or means, of good
to another, perhaps to many. How grati-
fied is the mind that comprehends this —
how infinite the wisdom of the appoint-
ment ! *
WuALE-FlSHING.
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 Greenland Voyage, or THf:WiiALE-
Fisher's Delight : being a full de-
scription of the manner of the taking of
Whales on the coast of Greenland. —
Tune, — Hey to the Temple.
Why stay we at home, now the season is come
Jolly lads let us liquor our throats ;
Our interest we wrong, if we tarry too Joug,
Then all hands, let us fit out our boau ;
Sir John HiU.
205
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 2.
Let c»ch man prepare
Of the tackling his share.
By neglect a good voyage may be lost :
Conne, I say, let's away.
Make no stay nor delay.
For the winter brings whales on the cout
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 6ght
Mighty wales, as if they were but sprats.
Come coil in the warp, see the hatchets 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 boyr, let's launch if ^■e can.
The surf runs too high, 'twill be down by and
by.
Take a slatchto go off; now twill do,
Huzza ! launch amain, for the gea grows
again.
Pull up briskly a stroke (boys) or two j
Ha, well row'd ! ^is enough.
We are clear of the suff,
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, pull up Ned,
We are fast, back a stern what ye may ;
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 faint heart never won a fair lady.
Come, this is no disgrace,
Pull up lads, another chase.
Our mates will he fast withotit doubt :
So what cheer ? Wc arc near.
She IS there ; no, she's here
Just a stem ; jolly liearts, pull about.
Pull 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 launcc it is brok*;.
Pull a-head, hale in warp, for she tows not so
sharp,
ghe's beginning to flounce 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,
*Ti9 her flurry, she's as dead as a herring ;
Let's take her in tow, and all hands stoutly
row ;
And, mate Sam, pry thee 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 coati.
And to Ben's, there's a cheerupping cup ;
Let's comfort our hearts, every man his two
quarts.
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 theblubbe ,
Mr. Scoresby, in his "Account of the
Arctic Regions," gives an interesting and
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 well known by being caged
for its nott Albin says, " We are not
20G
THE YEAR BOOK.— APEIL 3.
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 tiieir 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
questions of some curiosity and difficulty.
It 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 exertion of which one would imagine
it to be totally incapable."*
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 T) give as cheerful 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 learne industry; to the
dove to learne innocency ; to the serpent
to learne 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 thecalamities of winter, 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 I bee forced with
crosse-winds to shift my sailes and catch
at side-winds, yet, sk'llfullyto stcere, and
* Scoresby, i. 537
hold on my course, by the Cape of Good
Hope, till I arrive at the haven of etemall
happinesse? — J. Warwick.
h. m.
3 29
5 32
6 28
8 31
April 2. 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.
^pvil 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 hail me at the dawn of day.
Each morn the recollected proof.
Of time that ever fleets away I
Fond of sunshine, fond of shade,
Fond of skies serene and clear
E'en transient storms thy joys invade.
In fairest seasons of the year ;
What makes thee seek a milder clime .'
What bids thee shun the wintry gale t
How knowest thou thy departing time ?
Hail ! wond'rous bird ! hail, swallow, hail I
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, still freely go.
And blessings crown thy vigorous wing ;
3May thy rude flight meet no rude foe.
Delightful Messenger of Spring !
The preceding verses by Mr. Williatvi
Franklin, a Lincolnshire miller, may
welcome a letter from the author of the
" History of Morley."
To Mr. 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
207
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 3.
a.K* controversies which have been printed
rcspecUu^ this interesting traveller, I
must say there is one thing with which I
have been exceedingly dissatisfied. Not
one jjerson, that 1 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, alwnt 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 i\ 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
ascent 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 wmg 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 w.ives 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 mind 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 virtuous 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 falleth 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 (^ood
Ilope, — much less wonderful would it be
for a swallow, under like circumstances,
to reach Africa.
Yours respectfully,
NORRISSON SCATCHERD.
March, 1831.
h. m.
April 3, Day breaks ... 3 27
Sun rises .... 5 30
— sets .... 6 30
Twilight ends ... 8 33
W^all-flower flowers generally, though
flowers on old plants are often out nruch
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 slope* till
May.
208
THE YEAR BOOK.-APIUL 3.
There are seven pillars of Gothic mold,
In Chillon's dungeons deep and old,
There are 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 ;
Creeping o'er the floor so damp,
Like a marsh's meteor lamp ;
And in each pillar there is a ring.
And in each ring there 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 ;
I lost their long and heavy score
When my last brother droop'd and died,
And I lay living by his side.
THE PKISONEK OF CHILLON.
A drawing of the dungeon of Chillon to the Year Book for its present use. On
was taken on the spot, in 1822, by W. A. the pillar to the right is Lord Byron's
D., jun., who obligingly communicated it name, cut deep with a knife by hiir»«A
Vol IV
209
THE YEAR BOOK.—APIUL 3.
before be wrote his poem. Until now, a
view of this place has not been published.
Near this castle Uosseau 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 tl)€ 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, M'hich 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
(I'lench 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 tho cells are seven
pillars, or rather eight, one being half
merged in the wall ; in some of these are
rinofs for the fetters and the fettered : in
the patement the steps of Bonnivard have
left their traces — he was confined here
several years.
Francois de Bonnivard, son of Louis
de Bonnivard, lord of Lunes, was born in
the year 1496; he was educated at
Turin : in 1510 his uncle, Jean Aim^ de
Bonnivard, surrendered to him the priory
of St. Victor, a benefice of considerable
importance adjoining the wall.s 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
m execution, with variety of knowledge
and vivacity of spitit. 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
ciierished 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-
soplier 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
was betrayed by two men who accom-
panied him, and was sent by order of the
prince to Grolde, where lie 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 unti.
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 should
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.
210
THE YEAR BOOK— APRIL 4.
SONNET ON CHILLON.
Eternal spirit of the chainless mind !
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty ! thou art,
For there thy habitation is the heart—
The heart which 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! 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'^peal from tyranny to God.
BVRON.
^pvil 4.
On the 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 Ellenborough'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,
the 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 arms all over with an iron nail."
The old woman described the 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?"
*' VVtU, 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. S-he
always tried to live righteously and peace-
ably, without doing harm to any one. Slie
was greatly afflicted at the injurious sup-
position.
An apprentice to Mr. North, a «urgeoB
211
THE YiiLA^R BOOK.— APIIIL 4.
nt 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,
^x\d others an eighth of an inch deep, and
from two to three inches and three inches
and a half long ; slin 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 tliey had acted.
Mr. Erskine said lie could adduce
evidence which would show the gross
delusion under wiiich 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 CoUard, was
then called, who said she was an acquaint-
ance of tlie elder prisoner, and met her
on the morning of the day of the assault,
not having seen her before for a longtime.
The witness said, we were talking about our
troubles, when she told me thather troubles
were greater than mine, or any body's
troubles, for tliey 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. Burges 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. Burges, 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 1 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 .•'topping her,^
before she dropped dowr, 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, lie 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 th.e
prisoners had been actuated ; the infamous
fraud that had been practised upon them:
their miserable afflictions; and to induce
the jury to give, witli 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. llodgers, 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 aggravalion 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 parliament,
recently passed, which provided for the
punishment of such oft'ences; and his
lordship hoped the magistrates of the
county would prosecute him, and bring
him 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 : —
212
THE YEAB BOOK.-APEIL 4.
"The gar of mixtur is to be mixt with
naif pint of gtn (i. e. gin), and then a
table spoon lo 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
wiiile 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 tiie
imagination of the poor girl who fancied
herself possessed, that she had not had a
fit afterwards. Tlie drawing of blood
from the supposed witch remained to be
perfjrmed, in order to destroy her sup-
vX>sed influence.*
Cunning Men
[For the Year Book.]
The following is a copy of an applica-
tion from two " learned clerks" to king
Henry VIH., 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
tiie 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 VIIL
My sufTerynt lorde, and prynce moste
gracyus, and of all crystiants the hedde,
whych yn this realme of Yngland moste
excellent doe dwelle, whoys highness ys
most woorthy of all due subjection: whcre-
Newspaper of the time
fore we, as subjects true, rurae unto your
majestye moste woorthy, wyllinge to
sliewe sych cunynge and knowledge, as
God of his hyness hath sent and geyven
unto us : the wyche shall (whyihe hys
infinite grace) pleyse your dygnylc so
hey, and be for the comfort and solace off
all your realme so ryall. The wyche
knowlege, wo', 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
ha\e 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 dyflfyculte and peynfull for us.
Wherefore we mykely desire your grace
to pardon us to practys the liame, not
only for the altyed of our mynde, but
specyally for your gracyus pleasure; for
wythout your pardon yt is unlaueful :
neverthelesse, wyth your lycense, yt is
marvylus precyus, and of all treasure
moste valyant, as the ihyng itself dothe
shewe, yn the whyche theys sayeng here
folowing be conteyned thereyn.
1. Pryncypally, yt showys 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 ay re.
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 constreyne the sprytys
of the ayre to answer truley to suche
questions as shall be asked of thcym, and
in no degree to be dyssetefulle.
6. Syxlly 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.
7. 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 th'it ys this :—
213
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 4.
T/ie Epistle of Roger Bacon.*
My beloved brother, Uabert Sennahoi,f
receive this treasure wliich even I, brotlier
Uoger 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 Senn^hoi, I entreat
thee, that thou wilt most diligently
pray to God for me, and particularly,
also, for the soul of brother I^umberd
Bungey, of my kindred,^ who, at my
desire, most faithfully translated into the
Latin tongue, from the work of holy
Cyprian, this same book, which he 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
orother, 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 Ro^^er
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
• I have ventured to translate this
*' Epistle,'* which, in the original document,
is in Latin. ^. A. 11.
t I do not recollect meeting with this name
elsewhere, A. A. R.
J *' Consanguinilatis mete,** The friendship
of Friar Bacon anil Friar Bungey has been
familiar to me fron my early childhood •, but
I never heard of their relationship until I saw
ihu letter. A. A. R.
me, and that thou wilt wholly remember
me in all, even thy least prayers and suppli-
Otttions : also, I pray that 1 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 for-
merly mine, by means of this book did I
obtain it. Farewell.
Charades, Riddles, &c«
[For the Year Book.]
A certain denomination, or heading, m
the Year Book, has brought to my mind
a charade which appeared in some publi-
cations last year, aifid which with its three
companions form the best set of those
kinds of riddles which 1 have ever read
It is as follows : —
My first was dark o'er earth and air.
As dark as she could be I
The stars that gemmed her ebon hair
Were only two or tliree ;
King Cole saw twice as many there
As you or I 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 y 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 Thebanr,. This celebrated
enigma, having the Greek before me,f I
thus translate : —
• The rery ancientest I find by the Everp-
Day Book, vol. 2, 26, is in Judges xiv. 14 — 18.
t Brunck's Sophocles, just before (£dipna
Tyr-nnu8.
214
THE YEAR BOOK.— A PHIL 5, 6.
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 that swim 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 (l^dipus
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 j
But, being old, takes, as third foot, a staff.
Stretching his neck, by old age bent in half.
Since the time of the Theban Oedipus,
how many enigmas, and various kinds of
riddles, have been invented ! The letteis
of the alphabet have proved a fruitful
source ; witness lord Byron's celebrated
enigma on the letter II. Then the one
oi O, and a pithy one on E, which for
its shortness I give : —
The beginning of eternity, the end of time
and space.
The beginning of every end, and the end of
every place.
PiLGARLIC.
h. m.
April 4. Day breaks ... 3 24
Sun rises .... 5 28
_ sets .... 6 32
Twilight ends . 8 36
Starch hyacinth flowers.
Crown imperial in full flower.
Great saxifrage begins to flower.
^pril 5.
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 Eiizabeth, who, by her
will, had declared him her successor.
The letter from the council, communi-
cating this fact, was addressed " lli-ght
high, right excellent, and mighty prince,
and our dread sovereign Lord."
h. m.
April 5. Day breaKS . . . 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.
On me 6th of April, I199,died Richard
I., commonly called Coeur de Lion He
was the first king of England wh ) applied
the plural term to tlie regal dignity.
Bertrand de Born, a troubaaour so
early as the last half of the twelfth cen-
tury, refers to Richard Cceur de Lion in
the verses below, by this appellation —
" The Lord of Oc and No."
The beautiful spring delights me wcii,
When flowers and leaves arc 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 kniglits and steeds caparison'd.
It pleases me when the lancers bold
Set men and armies flying ;
And 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.
On 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 v,he bloody battle scene.
The field of wrath betoken ;
And the vassals are thtre.
And there fly the steeds of the dying and dead;
And, where the mingled strife is spread.
The noblest warrior's care
Is to cleave the foemau's limbs and head.
The conqueror less of the living than dead.
I tell you tLal njth»n{,- my »oul 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.
Your 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 already too long hath been I •
» Tales of the Minnesingers
215
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 6.
CURIOUS TREE, NEAR LOOSE, IN KENT.
[For the Year Book.]
1 have heard lliat Master Isaac Wal-
ton's "Angler" proved a good physician
in a recent case, when medicine had done
its worst. A lady, hypochondriacally
affected, was enabled, 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 tiieir 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 rusliing 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
wnich the air is rife.
"Turn out of the way a little,
good scholar," says the contemplatist,
" towards yon high honey suckle hedge ,
there we'll sit and sing, whilst this shower
falls so gently on the teeming earth, and
gives yet a sweeter smell to th'j lovely
flowers that adorn these verdant meadows.
Look ! under that broad beech-tree I sat
down when 1 was this way a fishing; and
the birds in the adjoining c:rove seemed to
have a friendly contention with an echo,
whoso dead voice seem.ed to live in a hol-
low tree near thf brow of that primrose-
hill. There I sat viewing the silver streams
glide silently towards their centre — the
tempestuous sea, ye', 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
artlessness; they are poetry or prose, as
the reader pleases, but, whether he ^ilU it
21G
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 6.
or not, they are " after nature." 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 fan
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 wind," 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 praise, and looking lively grati
■lude."
Such has been oftentimes my experi-
•ence ; and very probably considerations of
this ki id possessed me as, wearied by a
long \ alk, I sat down in a fresh flowing
Tnead<.w to make tlie 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,
pos?lbly 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 frees in Camber-
\vell 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 the Leafless.
Last of the leafless ' withered tree I
Thou shalt not fall unsung,
Though hushed is now the minstrelsy
That once around thee rung .
*Kent, in <3escrlJ>ing the course of the Med way.
The storm no more thy scourge shtJl be.
The winds of heav'n thy tongue •
Yet hast thou still a lively part.
Within one wayward rhymester's heart
And in thy hare and sapless crest
His dreaming fancy sees
More beauty than it e'er possest.
When, shiv'ring in the brorze.
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 '.loses on the desert strand.
Unmoved at Egypt's boast.
When God revealed his mighty hrnd
To guard the favor'd coast :
Spared in the wreck tliou seem'st to stand
Amidst a fallen host.
Rearing thy powerless arm on high,
'I o 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 tempos 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 shall not fall unsung,
Though hushed is now the minstrelsy
That once around thee rung ,
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.
t desire to increase the calm pleasures
of my readers, by earnestly recommending
*' Bible Lyrics, and other Poems," whence
the preceding verses are taken. If ona
competent judge, who purchases this little
five shilling voiume, 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 emi-
217
THE YEAK BOOK. -APRIL 7.
nent men who filled the great offices of
slate about the period he flourished. They
regarded him as their father, tliough 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 deatli 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 nat co-
vetous. The canonry of Christ Church,
4 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 fortitude, 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.
Uptil 7.
On the 7th of April, 1786, ihe cele-
brated catacombs of Paris were conse-
crated with greal solemnity.
For many centuiies Paris had only one
public place of interment, the "Cemetery
des Innocens," originally a jiart 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
interments frequently took place in the
streets, on the high roads, and in the pub-
lic fields. Philii) 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 ona upon another within thft
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 collecte 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 them. 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 tlie very day that the
commission was installed : a house in the
Rue d'Enfer sunk ninety-one feet beiow
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 engulplied.
It appeared that the pillars which had
been left by the quarriers in their blind
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 shocks, and an accident
rauit, sooner or later, have happened to
this water-course, which 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
which 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
remains of 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-
219
THE YEAR BOOK— APRIL
for those who perished in popular com-
motions or massacres.
Upon tl>€ suppression of the convents
and various churches, tlie remains disco-
ff-red in them were removed and de-
posited in this immense cliarnel-house,
but, from the breaking out of ti)e revel u-
cion, the works were discontinued, and so
much neglected, that, in many places, the
soil fell in, and choked up tiie communi-
cations ; water entered by filtration ; the
roof wa? cracked in many places, and
threatened fresh downfalls ; and the bones
themselves lay in immense heaps, min-
gled with tlie 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
iiouses 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
tlie neck outwanls; when fresh air was
wanted, it was only necessary to uncork
some of these bottles. Channels were
made lo 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 persons at-
tached to the establishment. The staircase
descendinjj; to the catacombs consists of
ninety steps, and, after several windings,
leads to the western gallery, which is
under, and m a perpendicular line with
trees on the western side of the Orleans
road. From this gallery several others
branch off" in diff"erent 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 De-
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, Decure, who had been 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 comi)leted 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 : —
Cct ouvrage fut commence en 1777,
Par Decure, dit Beausejour, Veteran
de Sa Majeste, ct fini en 1782.
Decure's stone table and benches are
still preserved in tlie 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 iiundred
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 vesVbule
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 the
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,
resemblmg chapels, lined with bones va-
r'ously 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.
220
THE YEAR BOOK.- APRIL 7.
They appear to have grown in this unna-
tural situation ; three of them have re-
tained their brilliant color, but some
gpots 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 Verite, the Crypta de
la Mort et de 1' Eternity, and the Crypta
de Neant, the AUee 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 immerous.
Ti fc 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
contaij tne 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 Souris. 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, iii. 324—352.
Caution to Maidkns.
Doete de Troies, a lady of the thirteenth
century, is presumed to have written the
following verses :—
When 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 prinlseller 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 tl.e 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
wish«^d 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
prinlseller, after King, was Mr. John
Bowles, at the Black Horse, in Cornhdl, a
catalogue of whose maps, prmts,&c., dated
* Lays of the Minnesingers.
221
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 8.
1764, shows that he had a considerahle
stock ; and it is well known that he left a
large property. He removed from Corn-
hill; and the Gentleman's Magazine thus
noiices his death : — ** April 8, 1757, died
Mr. Thomas Bowles, the great printseller,
late of St. Paul's Church Yard."
Black Letter.
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 £lO. 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
tory 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 ten
pages, and a contemptible but extremely
rare production, sold for £24. 13s. 6d.
Literary 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 "
April 7
h. m.
Daybreaks . . , 3 16
Sun rises .... 5 22
— sets .... 6 38
Twilight ends ... 8 44
Wood anemone fully flowers.
Large daffodil comes into flower.
Rarashorns, or male orchis, fiowem
^jptil 8.
April 8, 1663, is the date of the first
play bill that issued from Drury Lane
Theatre.
[Copy.]
By his Majesty his Company of
Comedians,
at the New Theatre, in Drury Lane,
This day, being Thursday, April 8, 1663
will be acted
a Comedy, called
The Hvmovbovs 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 supported by others,
between whose opinions I shall not pre-
tend to decide. The last place in which
THE YEAR BOOK.— APEIL 8.
I nave met with an allusion to the idea
js 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
be discussed in America, as appears by
the subjoined extract from the New York
Gazette. August 5, 1823 : —
" Hartford, August 4.
" The tenth Wave. — An expression in one
of Mr. Maturin's works to this effect, the
* tenth wave of human misery,' induced a
qentleman 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-
lied himself that such was the fact. But
t'lis seems to be no new thought of Mr
Maturin. A valued friend has turned us
to two passages in Ovid, in which he ex-
jiiessly mentions the phenomenon. One
is in his Tristia Eiegia 2, lines forty-ninth
and fiftieth.
" Qui venit hicfluctus, fiuctus supereminet om-
nes ;
Posterior nono est, undecimoque prior.**
iMeaning a wave which succeeds the
nmth, and (of course) precedes the
eleventh, overtops the others
" The other is in the Metamorphoses^
book nth, line 530.
* Yastius insiirgens decimae ruit impetus undtB.
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
tile 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 tlirough the surf is
dangerous, and, if it be ascertained that
this is true, it may save some boats and
some lives."
J. B n.
Staffordshire Moorlands,
Sir,
[To Mr. Hone.]
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 ohenornenon as the tenth
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 New Monthly
Magazine, thought proper some years ago
to animadvert on this allusion of mine to
the tenth wave in no very courteous oi
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 Eiegia 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
been entertained by many persons conver-
sant with the sea-shore : 1 have often heard
it when I was a boy, and have vepeatedly
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 when 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,
J AS. Jennings
Marc?i 1831.
April 8.
Ii. m
Daybreaks ... 3 13
Sun rises .... 5 20
— sets .... 6 40
Twilight ends . . 8 47
The Van Thol tulip is in full flower
while tlie standard tulips remain, as yet,
uniblded.
223
THE YEAR BOOK— APRIL 9.
^ptil 9.
Raffaello Sanzio lh« eminent painter,
was born April 9th (March 28th, O. S.)
1483, at Urbino in tlie states of the church.
His father was himself a painter, though
an indifferent 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
uart of his disciple's genius remained un-
injured; he afterwards introduced his old
•.naster 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
mproving his manner by the admiration
of their works, he fell with equal Zealand
Datience to the study of the ancient sculp-
tures ; and formed a style of sweetness and
power which placed him on the tlirone
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 siiort, and apparently full
of pleasing images, llu 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 with three littla 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 difHculi than that of
most painters, because he deals so much
in delicacy of expression.*
Art in the Citv.
In the present year, 1831, many private
lovers of art have associated with its pro-
fessors, in the midst of the metropolis
under the denomination of " The City ot
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 gu'neaayear, 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
rity 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 gratif}ing ; 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
every roadside bank, and slope.
* The Indicator.
Violets.
Not from the verdant garden's cultured bound.
That breathes of Pastum's aromatic gale,
We sprung; but nurslings of the 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 shov^ers.
Have nursed our slender forms, but lovers' sighs
Have been our gales, and lovers' tears our dew
Lorenzo de Medici^ by Mr. Roscoe.
224
THE YEAR BOOK— APRIL 9.
THE RAVEN AT HOOK, HANTS.
A correspondent who made ihe sketcli,*
^)bligingly 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 residence 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 Mill, otherwise
Hind. He seems to have acquired the
appellation of " Jack the Painter" from
naving been apprenticed to a painter at
Edinburgh, where he was born, in Sep-
• W. A. D. Jun., who likewise commimi-
:ated his drawing of the Prison of Chi If^n,
.ngravcd at p. 209.
tembcr, 1762. 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. Tliis was
during the war with America, towards
which country he conceived strong parti-
ality. His military life vias 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 quenched
soon after it broke out, but not before
it had effected considerable damage ; and,
though the fire was presumed to have been
maliciously done, there was no clue to
the fact until more than a month after-
wards, when, in tlie great hemo-house,
Vol. IV,
225
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 10.
them 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;
nad 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 h.inted what he had
done, and what further he designed. He
was repulsed by the doctor, and, quittmg
London without mone}j, 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, he
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
time, the Savannah la Mar, near the crane,
and the ship Fame at another pun of the
quay, and set them on fire. The flames
were almost immediately discovered and
extinguished, or vessels to an immense
value 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,
which he fired by means of a slow match,
and instantly left the tovt^n. On looking
back, and not seeing tl)e flames ascend,
he returned part of the way, till he heard
an alarra of the city being on Are. Upon
this news he retraced his «.tops to Sodbury,
ancr80n» hew
daily at his eKoen»e,—Lysotu.
>31
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 11.
saint, Rtood Tormerly somewnere about
the spot.
Rut, be this ns it may, tbe prologue to
the "Canterbury Tales" makes ih'u men-
tion of it —
And forth wc ridcn a litrl more than pas
Unto the watering of Saint Thomas —
And thcr our liostc hrgcn his hors arcst.
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 mornin.:, 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 h'n sliourcs sote.
The draughie of March liath 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 wuh nothing worthy of
record till we reached New Cross.
" Lo ! Depeford 1" as Chaucpr says,
cried A., as the thickly congu-gated hou.s(-s
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 clmrches, were conspicuous;
of this last, Dr. Conyers was fornuily
rector, and some of your readers may re-
collect the compliment paid him by
Cowper —
Tne path to Lhss
Is open, ami ye cannot enter ; why f
Because ye will not, Conyer would rep.y—
And he says much which many may dispute
And cavil at with case, but none refute.
We crossed the Ravensbourn, and
began to ascend Blackheatli 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 llie heights
above it, a force of nearly 100,000. As
Vie were none of us disposed to see the
" fine water" issuing from the spring at
its farther extremity, forced up against its
will by nif-ans of a spasmodic old pump,
as ricLe'cty, withal, as a flag-staff' in a gale
of wind, we passed onward by a " basket-
maker's villa," ta; tefully decoiated with
an inscription in what we agreed to be
"broken l:lng!ish ;" the style and title of
the said craftsman being thus set forth —
BASKETM
AKER
" Tinem respice !" said the thoughtful
II., as he stared, with lack-lustre eye, at
the oOd-looking supernumerary termi-
nating its first line —
*' 'EvoijKa ! E«{).;»ca 1"
exclaimed the inveterate G. — a small
dealer in left-off* puns — to his wondering
companion, who was gazing intently at
all that piece or i)arcel 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
pebldy gulph immediately above ilie
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 naade for Lee Lane, along
wiiich we journeyed, marvellously di-
verted with the odd-looking villas which
line it, till we reached the Maidstone
road, by that well known llosteliie 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 pro-
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 1" 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 tins view is attempted
to be conveyed in the next page by an en-
graving from a sketch taken in the summer
when playful children were amusing them-
selves with their nursery-waggon in the
meadows.
232
THE YEAR BOOK- APRIL 11.
' ^**I^.,'-^v. , 7 "-'ul-^
ELTHAM PALACE FROIM THE MEADOWS.
" Wete ye not wher standeth a litcl towne
" Upon the Maidston rode as ye go down ?
" There may ye see a (faire and goodly sight),
" That stately place, King John his palace hight !
"What! Chaucer again," exclaimed
G., somewhat good-naturedly. " Not so,"
replied A., " but my own rhime of
EJtham, fashioned a little after the old
school to be sure;*' and so we went on
lo'/ingly 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 san;3
palace.
We sought admission, which was rea-
dily granted, and gazed with delight at
the curiously carved oak rafters, with
theii 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 then*
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
ihouglit of bluff Harry the Eighth, and
his "itil Christmasse," holden within
these walls; 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 Kynghis viymtrelles for
playing before their majesties J" ejacu-
lated A., as his eye caught the remains 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 which the "glad
gildy stremes" of "sun-light were strug-
gling, caused us simultaneously to seek
agam the cheering influences of the open
day. We made our exit on the opposite
side from that on which we had entered
2f3
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 12. 13. 14.
end alter exchanging a few broad grins
with the grotesque heads, here and there
gracing the angles of this ancient pile,
departed from tlie place with tliose in-
describable eniotioiisw liith dreams of the
** olden tyme" usually awaken.
^pril 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 hate that drum's discordant sound.
Parading round, and round, and round.
To thoughtless youih it pleasure yields.
And lures from cities and from liclds.
To sell their liherty for charms.
Of taudry lace and glitt'ring arms ;
And when Ambition's voice commands
To march, and tight, and fall in foreign lands.
I hate tliat drum's discordant sound.
Parading round, and round, and round ;
To me it talks of ravaged plains,
And hurning to^ns, and ruin'd swains.
And mangled limbs, and dying groans.
And widows' tears, and orphans' moans.
And aU that Misery's hand bestows.
To lill the catalogue of human woes.
Scott u/Amwell.
h. m.
April 12. Daybreaks ... 3 3
Sun rises . . . . 5 12
— sets . -. . . 6 48
Twilight ends . . 8 57
Heartsease or pansy in full flower.
Apricot trees in full bloom.
Eariy cherry trees in bloom.
^pttl 13.
lies EM ART. *
Mr. Hone,
Tlie 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 on.
This appears from a ballad quoted par-
tially by Mr. Douce, occurring in Robin-
son's " Handfull of Pleasant Deites,
p. 84," l6mo. 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 tlu'ir minds shall be
disposed to write." The stanta n-.ost in
point 1 transcribe : —
" Rosemarie is for remembrance
Between us daic 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 of funeral.'^
I may add that, in Staffordshire, the
use of rosemary at weddings and funerals,
but particularly at the latter, is still com-
mon.
J. B n.
Staffordshire Moorlands.
h. m.
April 13. Day breaks ... 3
Sun rises . . . i 5 11
— sets .... 6 49
Twilight ends ..90
Crown imperials in full blow.
Pear, hi/rus communis, in blossom.
Broods of young geese begin to appear
on the commons and waters.
^pttl 14.
A mciancholy tale is connected with the
annals of London Bridge. The son of
Sir William Temple, the bosom counsellor
of William of Nassau, yet the honest
adviser of James IL, 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 armsfor 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 a'tack of King Wil-
liam's troops. The taunts of rival cour-
234
THE YEAR BOOK.— APEIL 15.
tiers, and the ingratitude ot one whom he
had so loved and trusted, threw Mr.
Temple into a profoand melancholy. On
the 14th 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 cataract, and, having
filled his pockets with stones, 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 Life.
There is, m this world, a continual inter-
cliunge ot 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 music;
the condition here alloweth no unmeddled
joy ; our whole life is temperate, between
sweet and sour, and we must all look for
a mixture of both : the wise so wish :
better that they still think of worse, ac-
cepting the one, if it come with liking,
and bearing the other without impatience,
being so much masters of each other's
fortunes, that neither shall work them to
excess. The dwarf groweth not on the
highest hill, nor the tall man loseth not
his height in the lowest vi Hey ; 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. m.
April 14. Day breaks . . .
Sun rises ....
sets ....
Twilight ends . .
Wood sorrel flowers in plenty.
Blackthorn begins to blossom.
The nightingale sings.
This is cuckoo -day in Sussex.
^pvil 15.
Birds. — The Sky-lark.
While the morning is yet cold, there
arc but a few complaining chirps, and ihe
birds chiefly appear in short flights, whicn
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 lookiug around him
with a mingled air of complacency and
confidence, utters a " churr-ee" in an
under tone, as if he were trying the
lowest and the highest notes of an instru
ment. The notes are restrained, but tliey
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 is a single " churr" mur-
mured from a little distance, and so soft
as hardly to be audible ; and the bird that
was stationed upon the clod has vanished,
nor can you for some time find 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's gate sings."
We have many songsters, and the
spring 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 suffer
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
voung 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 spreading
tail and outstretched wings, and moving
its little head, delightedly, first to one
side and then to the other, as if it would
235
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 16.
communicate Jts joy around ; it at last
soars to such an elevation that, if visible
at all, it is a mere daik speck in the blue
vault of heaven ; and, carolling over the
youni;- year, or the young day, while all
is bustle and activity, the airy wildness 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 ilie
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 sines 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
hy the operations of the plough or the
harrow, one would almost be tempted to
suppose that they actually enjoy the so-
ciety of man and laboring in his com-
piiny; while their early and joyous songs
call him up in the mommg. The natural
history of the lark, taken with all its times
and associations, would however embrace
the greater part of rustic nature tiirough-
out the year; as 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 VI 1., and
afterwards became the queen of Henry If.
of England.
When I behold the lark upspring
'I'o meet the briglit sun joyfully.
How he forgets to poise his wing
In his gay spirit's revelry,
Alas ! that mournful thoughts should spring
K'en from that happy songster's glee !
Strange, that such gladdening sight should
bring
Not joy, but pining care to me !
i thought my heart had known the wholo
Of love, but small its knowledi^e proved
For still the more my longing soul
Loves on, itself the while unloved :
She stole my licart, mystlf she stole,
And all I prized from im removed j
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 I gazed complacently.
Thou fatal mirror! there I spy
Love's image ; and my doom shall be.
Like joung Narcissus, thus to sigh,
And thus expire, beholding thee.
. h. n*.
April 15. Day breaks ... 2 54
Sun rises . ..57
sets .... 6 53.
Twilight ends . 9 6
Yellow glysson flowers.
Yellow willow wren arrives.
Swallow, hlrundu ruatica, arrives.
British Naturalist, ii. 110, &e.
236
THE YEAE BOOK.— APEIL 16.
nmi 16.
On the 16lh 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 heahh, he retired into
the country, and ab mdoned 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 vvhen 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
me noirs of Pylades and Corinna.
Mrs. Thomas was the child of a lady
who, after living in all the luxury or
forensic splendor, was obliged, in widow-
hood, to shelter herself and her only child
in obscurity. The dowager lady VVent-
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, 1 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. Tho mother of
Mrs. Thomas fell a victim to an adven-
turer, who spent the wreck of her fortune,
which had only been £lOOO, in attempting
to transmute the common metals into gold.
She was prevailed on to take an elegant
house in Bloomsbury, where, under the
familiar 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 II. at the
risk of their lives and fortunes, and the
ruin, if ruin tiiere 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 offer
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 iiis
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 tast2d 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.
237
THE YEAR BOOK.-APIIIL IC.
larity in their day. In 1706, for liis
** Iludibras lledivivus," wliich reflected
upon llie queen and the government, he
was sentenced to stand twice in the pil-
lory, and to pay forty maiks, and give
security for good behaviour for a year.
Mr. Granger says, " There is in his
writings a vulgarity of style and sentiment
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-
plified.in what he published, botii of verse
and prose." His best performance is the
" London Spy," which Jacob, in his
** Lives of the Poels," 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.
wrought. -' Klderly gentlemen had tbo
shoe fastened with small buckles
upon
Dress, temp. Anne.
While speaking cf 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 Ilamillie 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 the
whole length, and at the opening at
the sleeve. Young gentlemen often had
the sleeves 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 waist. 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 men; these were finely
• Noble.
the instep; and raised, but not high,
heels.
Ladies wore the hair becomingly curled
round the face. A flowing coif, or rather
veil, of the finest linen, fastened upon the
head, and fell behind it. Tliis prevailed
till the high projecting head-dress was
restored, after it had been discontinued
fifteen years. Swift, when dining with
Sir Thomas Ilanmer, observed the duchess
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 bosom
was either entirely exposed, or merely
shaded by gauze. Most of the silver
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 border 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 appearnnce in
this reign. The apology for it was its
coolness in summer, by admitting a free
circulation of air. Granger says, " it was
no more a petticoat, than Diogenes's tub
was his breeches." Flounces and furbe-
lows prevailed in this reign, and became
ridiculously enormous. Embroidered
shoes continued in fashion. Ladies and
gentlemen had their gloves richly em-
broidered.
Queen Ann strictly observed decorum
in her dress, and appears to have made it
her study. She would often notice the
dress of her domestics of either sex, and
remark whether a periwig, or the lining
of a coat, were appropriate. Slie once
sent for Lord Bolingbroke in haste ; and
he gave immediate attendance in a Ila-
millie, or tie, instead of a full bottomed
wig, which so offended her majesty, that
she said, "I suppose his lordship will
come to court, the next time, in his night-
cap."
April 16.
h. m.
16. Day breaks .
: 2 52
Sun rises . .
5 5
sets . . .
. 6 5^
Twilight ends
. 9 8
* Noble
238
THE YEAR BOOK.- APRIL 17, 18.
Bulbous crowfoot in flower.
Late dafibdil flowers.
Wild yellow tulip flowers.
Barbary tree in leaf.
The redstart appears; the female comes,
usually, a few days before the male.
^jJtil 17.
On the 17th 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 Franklin'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 wiih 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.
April 17. Day breaks ... 2 49
Sun rises ... 53
sets . ... 6 57
Twilight ?nds . . 9 11
Star anemone in full flower.
Tubeflowered daffodil. Narcissus btcolor,
flowers
Then joy I in the song and m the flowci,
Joy in myself, but in my lady iiiore ;
All objects round my spirit turns to joy.
But most from her my rapture rises high.
Bernard de Veniadour
^pril 18.
The Nightingale.
When grass grows green, and fresh leaves
spring,
■And flowers are budding on the plain.
When nightingales so sweetly sing,
-I'.id through the greenwood swells the strain.
The Nightingale.
Of this delicious songster it is not, at
present, proposed to say mo'-e 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 qaicKly have him, for he will 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 tliey sing, with meal-worms fastened
at proper places to allure them.
As soon as you have taken one, tie the
lips 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 the 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
ibis 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
his bill with a stick made thin at one end
239
THE YEAK BOOK.— APRIL 18.
and give him thiee, four, or five pieces,
according as lie will take tliem, as big as
peas ; t!\en 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 ii. 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 aiils. Sec, and, at last, nothing but
sheep's heart and ejrg. You should take
some of this meat with you wiien you go
to catch nightingales, and in an hour or
two after they are taken force tlieni to o.it,
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 no " earring" 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 nighling.tlcs 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
AH 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 ;
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 :
Xnow, 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.*
OlMNION.
Where there is much desire to learn,
there will of necessity be much arguing,
much writing, m;ujy opinions ; for opi-
nion in good men is but knowledge in the
waking. — Milton.
Study and Editorship.
Study is a weariness without exercise^
a laborious silting still, that racks the
inward and destroys the outward man;
tliHt sacrifices health to conceit, and clothes
the soul with the spoils of the body ; and,
like a stronger blast of lightning, 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 erijoyment, 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 aho 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
devoured 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 slinrt, to do all those things
which, in other men, are counted madness,
but, in a scholar, pass for his profession,
— South.
April 18. Day breaks .
Sun rises . .
• Albin.
• Lays of the Minnesingers.
h. m.
2 46
5 1
— sets .... 6 59
Twilight ends . . 9 14
Ground ivy, or ale hoof, abundantly in
flower.
The trilliam fiowers
210
THE YEAE BOOK.— APPxIL 18.
--^^^'U
PEG -TANKAED FROM GLASTOI^EURY ABBEY.
Tiiis ancien* cup, with a handle and
cover to it, exactly in the form of a modern
tankard, is of oak, and has been lackered,
especially in tlie inside, with a strong
varnish, probably with a view to its pre-
servation. It contains exactly two quarts
of ale measure. Within-side there were
originally eiij;lit pegs, which divided the
cofitained licpior into equal quantities of
half a pint each. The four uppermost of
Ihese pegs remain, and the holes from
■which the remaining four have fallen are
discernible On the lid is carved the
crucifixion, with the Virgin on nie nghij
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 are carved
round the body of the ci'p, with their
names on labels, under their respective
figures. Each holds an open book, ex-
cept St. Peter, who beais a key, St. John,
who supports a chalice, and Judas Jsca-
riot, who grasps at a jjurse. Beneath the
labels of tlie apostles are birds, beasts,
and full blown flower.s of different kinds;
Vol IV.
241
R
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 18.
and under these again are serpents, wliich,
by two and iwo, joining tlieir heads toge-
ther, form strange monsters. The three
feet on which the cup stands, and which
descend an inch below the body of it,
coTsist of as many figures of lions couch-
ant. Wnh the exception respecting the
pegs, the cup is as perfect as when it first
came out of the workman's hands.
This peg lankard is one of the very few
articles which were saved from Wardour
castle, by Blanch, lady Arundel, wlio nobly
defended that edifice against sir Edward
Hunge;ford, 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-
tonbury, 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 I ave attempted
to enforce such a law upon the nation at
large, unless the people had been in some
degree prepared fur 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 ofiiis strong
grounds for this great antiquity is, that,
with 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 affixed to
their figures. A stronger ground is, that
the letters which compose the inscrip ions
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
Fij* of this cup, and the pegs at equal
distinces in the inside, togefhor 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, poculum churitutis, or wassel-
bowl."* With sincere respect for doctor
IMiliiei'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
wooden tankard, with brass pins, which
he presented to doctor I'egge. 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 peg or pin-
cups, are yet to be found \n the cabinets
of antiquaries; ?nd 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 of St. Michael's Church,
Crooked 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 down
of the edifice for the approaches to the
New London-bridge. *' A sermon was to
have been preached by the Rector, the
Rev. Dr. Dakins, for the benefit of Bridge,
• Archaelogia. xi.
t Gems. Mag. Ixv. 380.
t Brady's Clavis Calcndaria.
242
THE YEA.R BOOK.— APRIL 18.
Candlewick, and Dowcate Ward schools ;
and the church, which was erected by
Sir Christopher Wren, and is peculiarly
neat and handsome, with numerous tablets
on its walls, to the memory of the dead,
presented at tlie commencement of tlie
service a very interesting spectacle. All
the pews, and the different aisles, were
filled to excess. The charity children,
accompanied by the organ, sang with im-
pressive efTect, * 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
s€cond lesson, part of the mortar in the
cornice of the ceiling over the altar where
ilie vector was stationed fell down. Im-
mediate ^Jarm seized the congregation,
and the larger portion, under apprehension
that the church was falling, rushed with
terror towards the door. For several
minutes the screams and thronging for
escape 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 rr.ortar
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 charity, and
the regret and dismay of the persons as-
sembled.
" It has been stated that great blame is
attributable to the city authorities, in con-
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
20/. to the charity schools in aid of the
sermon, because, as they allege, 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 vestry-
room by the trustees, to preach his intended
sermon next Sunday morning, at St.
Magnus church, for the charity, which has
also mnterially suffered in its funds /»om
the numerous houses lately pulled down
foi the London-bridge approaches."
On the following Sunday, March 27,
in pursuance of the intimation in the pre-
ceedmg statement, which is extracted
from T/ie Times journal, the rector of St.
Michaels, the Rev. William Whitfield
Dakins, D. D., F.S. A., cnaplain to their
royal highnesses the duke of Cambridge,
and the duke of Gloucester, delivere(l a
discourse for the benefitof the ward schools
at the spacious and handsome church of
St. Magnus the Martyr, London BriJge,
which in addition to its own parishiDners
accommodates the parishioners of St. Mar-
garet, and henceforth receives ths par-
ishioners of St. Michael's Crooked Lane.
The Rev. Mr. Leigh, rector of St. Magnus,
and the Rev. Mr. Durham, master of St.
Paul's school, assisted in the celebration
of the service. Dr. Dakins preached
from 1 Samuel vi. 6 : " And they said, if
ye send away tne ark of the God of Israel,
send it not empty, but in anywise return
him a trespass orfering." In the course of
his sermon the Doctor adverted to the
question "on the consistency of taking
down a sacred edifice, 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 and dignity towards private as well
as public interes'.s, 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 parish
church is, for many reasons, a serious and
lamentable reflection." The reverend
Doctor adverted with much feeling to the
disinterment of the remains, and the re-
moval of the several monuments of the
deceased of his flock. The disturbance
of tlie worship of his parishioners, on the
preceding sabbath, within their own
edifice afforded solemn remark, and led
to earnest appea. in behalf of the children
of the schools. The service closed witb a
contribution in aid of the funds, from the
united congiegation of the three parishes.
243
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 10.
It was aided by several visitors wlio were
illracted by the intellijjence of the terri-
fying accident which dispersed the con-
gregation.
^ptil 19.
On the 19th of April, 1710, four Ame-
rican leaders or chieftiiins 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
acceptahle to their liking. There is a
mezzotinto engraving of their portraits by
Faber, and another in the same style by
Simon. The Sp«»ctator contains a paper,
pretended to ha7e .t.bn left by one of
them at his lodgjngs, 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 Addiscn's happiest manner.*
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, wj)ere
A 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
V. 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
tlieir habitations, as Thomas of Dale ; viz.,
ihe 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.
upon him what surname, and as many
surnames, as he pleases, without an act of
parliament." The sameopinii n 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 case of Barlow v. Bateman, 2 Bro.
Pari. Ca. 272., although it reversed Sir
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 laia down, that any
person who chooses to change his name
may do so; and, if he do it when young,
so much the more complete will be the
alteration.
Concerning narn«s 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. If John Tho-
mas have a son named David, he is called
David Johyi, and not David Thomas, —
after the Christian name of his father.*
PuNKiNG Mottoes on Noble Names.
[For the Year Book.]
1. Cavendo tutus— Safe in being cau-
tious.
William Spencer Cavendish, Duke of
Devonshire.
2. Tewpla quam dilecta — How beloved
are thy temples !
Richard Temple, &c., Duke of Buck-
ingham, &c., and Earl Temple, &c.
3. Forte scwtum salus ducum — A strong
shield is the safety of commanders.
Hugh, Earl Fortescue.
4. Ne vile /awo— 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 shnv.
* Lejal Obsnrv^r, Feb 5,1831.
244
THE YEAR BOOK.-APEIL 20.
Eail of Onslow.
7 . Manus }usU tuiiikxi,
Is as precious ointment.
Viscount Maynurd.
8, Ver non, semper viret — ^The spring
does not always flourish ; or Vernon
always flourishes.
Lord Vernon.
The just hatid Apra 19. Day breaks
Sun rises . , ,
— sets .
Twilight ends .
Narrow -leaved Narcissus floweis*
The snake appears.
h. m.
2 43
4 59
7 1
9 17
9. At spes non fracta — But my hope is
unbroken.
John Hope, Earl of Kope\.o\xn
10. Fore yac— Speak, act.
Lord Fairfax.
11. Numini et patriae u%to~l stand by
my God and my Country.
Lord Aston.
12. Tov aaipevdv evsKa — In order lo excel.
This is a motto round the garter in the
cr<2st of Lord Henniker. To those who
are not Greek sciiolars 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 Dalzell,
Earl of Carnwath. A favorite and near
kinsman of Kenneth L, having been taken
prisoner by the Picts, was sfain, and ex-
posed hanging on a gibbet. The King,
exceedingly grieved at this indi-gnity,
offered 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, " Dall Zell," wliich, in the ancient
Scottish language, signified, " I dare," and,
having successfully performed his under-
taking, took Dalzell for his surname, and
a naked body suspended on a gibbet for
his armorial ensigns.
16. Vero nil, verius — Nothing is more
certain than truth, or nothing is more true
than Fere.
Vere Beauclerk, Lord Vcre. This title
is now extinct.
The authority for these mottoes is De-
nrett's Peerage.
J. K.
^pril 20.
On the 20th of April, 1 72 1, 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 HI. 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 his
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
cliaracter 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 executingthe greaterpart 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 HI,, for whom he re-
paired the valuable picture, the Triumph
of Julius Cfesar, by Andrea Mantegria;
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 paiwted around their
room a Bacchanalian procession, in
chiaro oscuro. His mode of ornamenting
the grand apartments of palaces and no
blemen's houses was salyrized by Pope'
well-known lines. —
245
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 20.
*' On painted ceilings you devoutly stiurc.
Where sprawl the taints of Verrio and La>
guerre."
The younger Laguerre is supposed, by
lord Orford, to have become a scene-
painter; but he died very poor, in March,
1746. His set of prints of " Hob in the
Well " had a great sale.*
Curiosities akd Secrets of Nature.
[For the Year Book.]
The following extracts are from a book
in my possession, entitled " The IMagick
of Kirani, King of Persia, and of Ilarpo-
cration;" 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 comes, they (the storks) proceed
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 Syiia, 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, aiKl 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 ti.en
a cry is heard to the very heavens, and
the shedding of the blood of the woundiid
birds is seen in the river, and the plucking
off of many feathers, of which the Lycians
make feather beds. And after that the
field is cleared they find the crows, and
all carnivorous birds, torn in pieces ; like-
wise storks and pelicans, and no small
number of such as are of their side ; for
many of the birds fall down dead in the
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 (ither fruits on the earth ; but, fJ the
crows get tlie better, there will be a mul-
titude of sheep and oxen, and other fcur-
» Noble.
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 place, and also maintain them ;
and, if they be blind, their children feed
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, and tie 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 enemies,' and shall tie
it to his right arm, he that carries it will
be invincible by all, and admirable in
war, and in all controversies, and his
victory will be irrefragable and great."
Perhaps it would be as well, before
proceeding further, to speak a little of the
book which furnishes these particulars.
Ilarpocration describes himself as travell-
ing in the country of Babylon, and as
coming to little Alexandria, a city seven-
teen Persian miles distant from Seleuticii,,
and near Babylon, where he met with an
old man, a Syrian captive, skilled in fo-
reign learning, 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 man, therefore,
agreed to interpret the letters to me, and
expounded them to me in the Eolich
tongue." The receipts of this book, then,
are from this pillar; those of Kirani are
supposed to have been the great gift o
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
fears this tree, so that he avoids the sha-
dow of it ; for, if the shadow of the tree
go towards the 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
stnggle from the tree, the serpent, by its
breath, attracts it and devours it. Yet,
when they fly, or go together neither the
246
THE YEAR B0OK.—A PRIX, 20.
serpent nor the spar -hawk can, or dares
nurt them. Therefore the leaves or bark
of the tree, sufl'umigated, avert all evil that
is of venomous beasts."
Every person is acquainted 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. " P«^0io(t is a bird,
by the river Nile, which is called a pelican
and lives in the fensof iEgypt; she loves
her brood extremely well, when, therefore,
the young ones are hatched, and grown
a little, they continually beat the old ones
in the face; 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 ihem, and they rise again, in a
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 n-.ore 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 may dissolve this, if you give a little
of the ashes of those that turn one from
anotlier 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
done. — For love between a man and his
wife. If a man carry the heart of a male
crow, and a woman the heart of a female,
they will agree between themselves all
their life-time ; and this miracle is certain.
— To open locks, doors, bolts, and to tame
wild beasts, and 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 jcung
ones of c 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 got 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 also be beloved and observed of all,
and whatever he hath a mind to he shall
acquire and perform. Thus far nature:
but he that carries it shall learn those
things that aie in the gois; shall open
locks, and loose chains, shall pacify all
wild beasts by !he 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, thi?
secret in the tale of master Petei 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 description of a
hyena is remarkable. — " The hyena is a
four-footed animal, savage, and ambigu-
ous ; for this creature is born female, and,
after a year, turns male, and then, for tke
next year, turns 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 glaucus, and the right
eye of the said hyena, and all that is liquid
of the said hyena; dissolve all together,
and pot it up in a glass vessel, covering
it well. If, therefore, you will show a
great miracle, when you have set a light,
mix the fat of any creeping thing, oi
four-footed beast, you please, with a little
of the foresaid composition ; if you anoint
the wick of the lamp or candle, they will
think it is the beast of which it is the fat,
!i7
THE YEAR BOOK—AriUL 21.
whether of a lion, bull, serpent, or any
otier creature. If, tlierefure, you will
work a miracle, or a ph-.intoni, put a little
e best method of fortification ;
A grave 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 Spelling Book.
Belonging to the reign of queen of
Anne there is another portrait of another
remarkable character — 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 mfjiuscript. He
"was a person of learning an^f curiosity,
particularly in his younger da} 2, when he
was commonly known to the Oxford
students by the nickname of t!ie 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
to the British Museum. He died about
1705.
April 22. Day breaks
Sun rises .
— sets .
Twilight ends
fa. m.
2 35
4 54
7 6
9 25
Marsh marigold flowers plentifully.
^pril 23.
St. Geouges's Day.
Accounts of this saint, and the cele
bration of his festival, are in the Ever^
Dat, Book.
Wilkes and 45.
[For the Year Book.]
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 Wilkes, 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.
Henry Brandon.
Mary-le-bone Gardens.
Morlei/, near Leeds, Yorkshire.
Mr. Hone,— If your ideas shall cor-
respond with those of a writer in page
31B of your Year Book, a few lines upon
the subject of Mary-le-bone may not be
unacceptable. My grandfather, a rector
cf North Tidmouth, in Wiltshire was, 1
250
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 23.
think, also connected with the ohl church
M the former place ; at all events he oc-
casionally officiated at that church. Pe
rented the fine ancient structure nearly
opposite thereto, called " Mary-le-bone
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 enyraving, per-
haps, may be had of Messrs. Nichols, Son,
and Bentley. Tradition reports, that this
was a palace of Elizabeth ; from 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 1 786, or 7, as I should think, he
died, and in 1791 the house was pulled
down, and some livery stables were upon
the site of it when I was last in London.
Having been at this school, from my in-
fancy almost, down to about 1790, I have
a perfect recollection of ihis 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 hirn often
and had a great predilection for his society.
This leads me to relate an anecdote which
I have 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 the nobility and gentry." Towards
the middle of the century these gardens
seem to have been on the decline. In
1790 they were nearly built over, and had,
some time, been disused. A wooden, or
boarded house, adjoining upon our play-
ground, was used, it seems, as a theatre of
pugilism, or a show for wild beasts. ^
While Mary-le-bone 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 nev/ 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 thouo^ht 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 ! how
changed ! Our only walk, beyond the
play ground, was to "Primrose-hilJ," and
" Green Berry-hill," across " Wei ling's
Farm." I well remember we used to
gather sorrel, or goose-grass (greensauce
it is here called); and we were permitted
to buy " alicarapane," 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 7ih ; 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 Aylmorhav?
been known.
*' What a piece of work is Mac I'
how curious and wonderful llie construe
tiojn and operations of the human inteU
2M
THE YEAR BOOK— APRIL 24. 25.
led ! I can remember INIary-le-bone
in 1790 belter than the lakes of Cumber-
laud, iiC.y wliich I saw only in 1828 ;
ray 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." 1 remember tlie fine gardens and
mulberry trees, and seeing Lunardi, or
Blanchaid, in his balloon high over them.
I remember anecdotes of Dr. Arne, and
many eminent men ; and especially of
those wonderful men, Sumnel and Charles
\N'esley, who, when children, were stars
of the first majinitude 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 SCATCIIERD.
h. m.
April 23. Day breaks ... 2 32
Sun rises .... 4 52
— sets ..,.78
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.
^jpril 24.
On the 24th of April, 1723, died at
Billingbeare, in Windsor Forest, Grey
Nevil, Esq., of wliom there is a mezzo-
tinto portrait by G. White, after a paint-
ing by Dahl in 1720. He was descended
from the family of the earl of Abergavenny.
Hisgreatancestor, Sir Henry Nevil, knight,
a gentleman of the bedchamber to king
Edward V'l., 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 170'); for Wal-
lingford and Wendoverin 1708 ; for WaU
lingford in 1710; for Berwick upon
Tweed in 1714 : and with lord Barrington,
as representatives for the latter place,
Dresented to king George I. a memorable
address of attachment to the Brunswick
family, signed by about GOO persons. The
influence of his personal character, and
great landed property, with his ability,
and devotion to tlie principles of the Re-
volution of 1G88, rendered him an able
sup,;orler 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 Ivis fu-
neral by Mr. Jeremiah Hunt, a dissentmg
minister, who apologizes in the preface,
for not giving a character of the deceased,
by quoting this clause from his will. — *'I
give to my Kev. 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.
IVIr. 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 VTII., 100 acres of meadow and
100 of pasture land at Maddingley, in
Cambridgeshire, are declared to be of the
yearly value ot £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 kniglits 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
Ipril 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.
^mi 25.
St. Mark.
The custom of the dumb cake on St.
ISIark's eve, and tlie usages upon this fes-
tival, are related at sufficient length in the
Everij'Day Book.
252
THE YEAE BOOK— APEIL 2C.
Private Ends.
On Monday the 25th of April, 1825, in
« lecture at the Leeds Philosophical Hall,
Mr. Michael Sadler, mentioned, as a
strange instance of perverted taste, the
case of a respectable gentleman in the
county of Derby, who has a strong pen-
chant for the halters in which malen\ctors
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
dieir duty, and which now hang as lines
of beauty, vtith the names of their former
tenants attached to each, round a museum
in his house. He is known as " a cutand
come again customer " to the finisher of
the law in London.
April 25.
h m.
2 26
4 48
7 12
9 34
Day breaks . . .
Sun rises ....
— sets ....
Twilight ends . .
Standard tulip begins to blow.
Clarimond tulip still in full flower
Van Thol tulip declining.
mxil 26.
On the 26th of April, 1731, was in-
terred, in Bunhill Fields burying-ground,
the celebrated Daniel De Foe. 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, that he might not be taken
by surprise. With a resolute purpose to
devote his energies, so long as Ihey con-
tinued, to the improvement of mankmd,
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 had
been taught submission to the hand that
inflicted it ; and aware of the difficulties
that beset a conscientious adherence 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 contribute more to
make us good christians, than to be able
to look upon all things, causes, and persons
here, 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 was 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 languish and expire ?
When earth 's no more, shall I survive abo^e.
And through the radiant files of Angels move I
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 I
All that has being in full concert join,
And celebrate the depths of Love Divine.
YcntnQ,
253
THE YEAR BOOK,— APRIL 28.
t\, m.
April 26. Day breaks ... 2 23
Sun rises .... 4 46
— sets .... 7 14
Twiligrht 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.
^pril 27.
The Orciif.stra — A Lf.nt Interlude.
[For the Year Book.]
What droppings in there are of musical
personages, vocal and instrumental ! 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-
labled 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 with 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
unruffled 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
tumorous.
An orchestra, like " Qiiarle's Em-
blem.?," ij emblematical. The fondness
of childhood is imaged by the love of
simple melody and pretty cadences — the
enamoured passions of youth by the
confident and skilful use of the instru-
me-jts — the state of manhood by the full
dip[»ason.
J. J{. Prior
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.
^pril 28.
On the 28th of April, 1738, Shak-
speare's tragedy of Julius 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 Abbey.
The first collection of anecdotes of
English composition is " Shakspeare's
Jest Book," an elegant reprint, by Samuel
Weller Singer, esq., of three tracts, con-
taining —
1. "The Hundred Merry Tales," 1557.
It is to this book that Beatrice alludes,
when she asks Benedict, " Will you tell
me who told you that I was disdainful,
and that I had my good wit out of the
hundred merry tales ? "
2. " Tales and Quicke Answeres, very
raery, and pleasant to rede." 1556. It
contains 114 tales.
3. " Mery tales, Wittie Questions, and
Quicke Answeres, very pleasant to be
redde. 1567." This collection is alluded
toby 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.
Sonnet 37.
So then i am not lame, poor, nor dcspis'd
Whilst that this shadow doth such subatitnce
give.
That I in thy abundance am sufllc'd.
And by a part of all thy glory livo.
254
THE YEAR BOOK.— APRIL 29, 30.
Sonnet 88.
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault.
And I will comment upon that offence:
Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt.
Against thy reasons making no defence.
April 28.
h. m.
2 17
4 43
7 17
9 43
Day breaks .
Sun rises . .
— sets . .
Twilight ends
Creeomg crowfoot appears here and
there.
Hedge mustard flowers.
Many apple trees in blossom.
^prir 29.
On the 29th 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 exceed'ngly 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-
uazers."
A Love Song.
Pack clouds away, and welcome day.
With night we banish sorrow^ ;
Sweet air blow soft, mount lark aloft,
To give my love good morrow.
Wings from the wind to please her mind.
Notes from the lark I'll borrow :
Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale sing,
To give my love good morrow.
To giv**. my love good morrow.
Notes from them all I'il borrow
Wi.ke from thy nest, robin-red -breast,
Sing, birds, in every furrow :
And from each bill let music shrill
Give my fair love good morrow.
Jllack jird and thrush, in every bush.
Stare, linnrt, and cock-sparrow.
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves,
Sing my fair love good niorrow.
To give my love good morrow.
Sing, birds, in every furrow.
Thos. Heywood, 1638.
h. m.
ml 29. Day breaks . .
. 2 13
Sun rises . . .
. 4 41
— sets . . .
. 7 19
Twilight ends .
. 9 47
Soft cranebill flowers.
Herb Robert flowers.
Dalibarda flowers.
^pvil so*
The Meadows in Spring.
[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 moderns, and to
love the philosophical good humor of our
old writers more than the sickly melan-
choly of the Byronian wits. If ray verses
be not good, they are good humored, and
that is something
'Tis a sad sighe
To see ths year dying ;
When autumn's last wind
Sets the yellow wood sighing
Sighing, oh sighing !
When such a time cometh,
I do retire
Into an old room.
Beside a bright fire ,
Oh ! pile a bright fire !
And there I sit
Reading 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, close 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, but often
Foolish, forsooth
But gladsome, gladsome
Or, to get merry.
We sing an old rhyme
That made the wood ring again
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 merriiy j
So merrily 1
255
THE YEAR BOOK.— APIUL 30.
And crc to Ltd
Go WC, go wc,
Down by I he ashes
We kneel on the knee ;
l\a}ing, praying I
Tims then live I,
Till, breaking the gloom
Of winter, tlie bold sun
Is v.iih mo in the room !
Shining, shining !
Then the clouds part,
Swallows soaring between :
The spriijg 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 !
ErsiLON.
A Fair and Happy Milkmaid.
Is a country wencli, 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 her
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 chanticlcre, 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 goldnn 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 sings defiance to the wheel of
fortune. She doth all things with so
sweet a grace, it seems ignorance will not
sufier her to do ill, being her mind to do
well. She bestows her year's wages at the
next fair, and, in choosing her gbnr.ents
counts no bravery in the world like de-
cency. The garden and 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 ii
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 poor
man, — how sound he sleeps, how (juiet his
breast, how composed his mind, how free
from care, how easy his provision, how
healthy his morning, how sober his night,
Irow 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 fill the houses of the luxurious, and
the hearts of the ambitious. — Jeremy
'Toy I or.
Sun EisE.
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 maltins, and bye-and-
bye gilds the fringes of a cloud, and peeps
over the eastern hills, thrusting 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 liglit, 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.
h. m.
April 30. Day breaks . .
. 2 fa
Su'i rises . . .
. 4 a&
— sets . . .
. 7 *I
Twilight ends .
. 6 60
Tooshwcrt flowers.
Peerless primrose flowers.
* Sir T. Overbury.
256
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY.
MAY.
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 throughout 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 /Shepherd's Calendar.
Vol. IV,
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY.
The following deligliUul verses arc ren-
dered very closely into out language by
JNIr. Tliomas Roscoe, from the old German
vf carl Conrad of Kirchberg, a minne-
sirger of ihe twelfth century —
Song.
May, sweet May, agaia is come.
May that frees the land from gloom j
Children, children, up, und see
All her stores of jollity !
On the laughinj; hedgerow's side
She hath spread her irta.mres wide ;
She is in the greenwood .".liade.
Where the nightingale lu-th made
Every branch and every tree
Ring with her sweet melody ;
Hill and dale are May's cwn treasures;
Youths rejoice ! In sjxiriin' nitasures
Sing ye, join tlie chorus jr:iy !
Hail this merry, merry 3I;iy !
Up then, children ! we w^U >;o
Where the blooming roses grow ;
In a joyful company
We the bursting flowers will see:
Up, your festal dress prep; re !
Where gay hearts are meeiing, there
May hath pleasures most irviting.
Heart and sight and ear delighting ;
Listen to the birds* sweet s( ng.
Hark ! how soft it floats alo,ig :
Courtly dames ! our pleasures share j
Never saw I May so fair :
Therefore dancing will wo 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. During the
middle and latter part of the vernal sea-
son the business of nest-making takes
place, and the tirst broods are hatched,
fledged, and fly before the close of the
period, during which time 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
t.ij vernal season is the well known song
of the cuckoo. His voice is neard
through all May ; he becomes noarse,
and sings seldomcr in the solstitial sea-
son ; before the commencemctit of the
aestival he ceases h'i note, and ciui^iatcs.
The cuckoo in gent:al builds nd ii(-,t, hu
deposits her solitary cgi; in the nest of
another bird, generally the hedge s|)art
row's, though she occasionally resorts to
that of the water wagtail, liilark, &c., by
whom the egg is hatched. I'arly in the
season, the cuckco begins with tiie interval
of a minor tliird ; the bird then proceeds
to a major tliird, next to a fourth, then a
fifth, after w Inch his voice breaks out with-
out attaining a minor sixth. An old Nor
folk proverb says,
In April the cuckoo shows liis 1 ill.
In JMay he sing, night and day.
In June he changes his tune.
In July aw;:y he fly.
In August away )ie 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 season 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 bluo
flowers ; the meadow lychnis succeeds,
until all are cut down in the great mowing
of meadow hay. Durin<:j this period tiie
banks are still covered wiili primroses a^d
violets, and here and there with pilewort;
in the hedges the black thorn fust, and
wards the white thorn, blossom. In the
chard a succession of blossoms on the plum,
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, and daily tends and watches the
" setting" of the fruit.
The gardens teem and glow with va-
rieties of the richest flowers The bright
258
THE YEAR BOOK.-MAY.
ultramarine blue of the Cynoglossum Om-
phalodes, and of the \'eronicaChamaedrys,
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 far 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 tine ornament of the
summer solstice. The yellow poppy
now flowers fully, and continues to blow
sparingly all the summer.
E'en loads, where danger hourly comes.
Arc not withoiit its purple blooms,
Whose leaves, with thieat'ning thistles round
Thick set, that have no strength to wound.
Shrink into childhood's eager hold
Wke 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«soe, 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 pin's head yellow spot
I' the middle of its tender blue.
That gains from poets notice due : —
These flowers, that toil by crowds destroys
Robbing them 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 tliere !
CLare,
• Dr. T. Forstcr, Encv. of Kat. Phenomena.
lowards 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 Calkndar.
Turtle, the great West Indian luxury,
generally arrives about the latter end of
May, or the beginning of June, thougW
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 18lh 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 dress, 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
drtssed retains more of its true flavor
than wiien made into callipafch and cal-
lippe.
?5D
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY.
1
Calfs heaeat 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 a triangular tabernacle of wood,
very curiously wrought, in which three
paintings were enclosf;d ; 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 Every Dai/ 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 occasioiuid
the setting up of that great May-pole, or
" shaft," from which the adjoining })arish
and church of St. Andrew were called St.
Andrew Undershatl. 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 popul.uity
of this almost forgotten " garland," it is
liere inserted verbatim.
Tiijc Story of III May Day, in the reign
oj kimj Henry the Eiyhth, imduhj/ it was
socalled; and how Queen Katiikrine 6f5;(/fd
the lives of two thousand LONDON A/ipien-
tices. — 'i the Tune of Essex Good Niyht.
Peruse tlie stories of this land.
And with advisement mark the same.
And you shall justly understand
How HI May Day 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 Spain,
With whom he liv'd full many a year.
Queen Katlicrinc nam'd, as storiep tell.
Some time his elder brother's wife j
By which unlawful marriage fell
An endless trouble during life :
But such kind love he still concciv d
Of his fair queen, and of her friends,
Wliich being by Spain and France perceiv dj
Their journeys fast for England bends.
And with good leave were suffered
Within our kingdom here to stay,
V/liich multitude made victuals dear.
And all things else from day to day j
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 ?
Wiiich 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 mide the magistrates believe.
At all to have no other intent :
But such a May.gamc it was known.
As like in London never were;
For by the same full mraiy a one
With loss of life did pay full dear :
♦ History of I'aris, i. 577.
2G2
THE YEAK BOOK.— MAY 1.
For tliousauds came with Bilhoe blade.
As with an army they could meet.
And such a bloody slaughter made
Of foreign strangers in the street.
That all the channels ran with blood.
In every street where they remain'd ;
Ycu, every one in danger stood.
That any of their part maintain'd ;
The rich, the poor, the old, the young,
Beyond the seas though born and bred.
By 'prentices they saffer'd wrong.
When armed thus iheygather'd head.
Such multitudes together went,
No warlike troops could them withstand.
Nor could by policy prevent.
What they by force thus took in hand •
Till, at the last, king Henry's power
This multitude encompass'd round.
Where, with the strength of London's tower.
They were by force supprcss'd and bound.
And hundreds hang'd by martial law,
On sign-posts at their masters' doors.
By which the rest were kept in awe.
And frighted from such loud uproars ,
And others which tho 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,
Unliappily thus overthrown;
Whose bitter moans and sad laments,
Pi)ssess'd the court with trembling fear ;
Whereat the queen herself relents,
Though it concern'd her country dear.
What if (quoth she) by Spanish blood.
Have London's stately streets been wet.
Yet will I seek this country's good.
And pardon for these young men get ;
Or else the world will speak of me.
And say queen Katherine 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 (quoth she) of all the blooms
Y.et budding green, these youths I crave j
O let them not have timeless tombs,
For nature longer limits gave :
In saying so, the pearled tears
Fell trickling from her princely eyes ;
Wheteat his gentle queen he cheers.
And says, stand up, sweet lady, rise ;
Tlie lives of them I freely give.
No means this kindness shall debar.
Thou hast thy boon, and they may live
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 renown amongst them all.
For which (kind queen) with joyful heart.
She gave to them both thanks and praise,
And so 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.
And 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 king 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 brigh*
Still to prevent the like misdeed.
Which once through headstrong young rutfa
came :
And that's the cause that I do reau.
May-day doth get so ill a name.
The old May-pole was painted with
various colors. Oa the next page is an
engraving of one as it appears in Mr.
Tolleit'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 pennon, or streamer, emblazoned
with a red cross, terminating like the
blade of a sword, btit the delineation
thereof is much faded.-f
* Mr. Douce's Illustrations of Shakspcarc,
ii. 445.
t Malonc's Shakspcarc, 1B21 xvi. 425.
2G3
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 1.
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 (he 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 effulgent smiles —
Tor 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 wonj
Till golden eve '.nnobles all tlie west
And day goes tdushing like a bride to rest,
JOHN CLARE.
Araongthe additions to "The Countess
of Pembroke's Arcadia, written by sir Phi-
lip Sidney, knight," we have an account of
fl rural mask or May-game, performed at
Wanstead, in honor of queen Elizabeth,
which beginsby stating that " Her most ex-
cellent Majestie walking in Wanstead Gar-
den, as she oasseddown into the grove there
2G4
THE YEAE BOOK.— MAY 1.
came suddenly, among the train, one ap-
parellod like an lionest 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 ofTered 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: hut now, alas !
that shee is com to the time I should reap
rny 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 pie-
sence redress it, in some bloodie contro-
versie ; now sweet Ladie help, your own
way guides you to the place where they
encoinber her. I dare stay here no longer,
for our men say in the countrie, the sight
of you is infectious."
The speech. Sec, was delivered by a
female called " the Suitor,''' who finally
presented the queen with a written sup-
plication, m 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
and pulling to whether side they should
draw the T^mUe of Mai/, who seemed to
incline neither to the one nor the other
side. Among them was master RoDibvs a
schoobnaster of a village thereby, who,
being fully persuaded of his own learned
wisdom, came thither with his authoritie lo
part their fray ; where for answer hee re-
ceived many unlearned blows. But tlie
Qizeen coming to the place where she was
seen of tbem, 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 shepherds) 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 call 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 vtot how ? By
my mother Kit's soul, with a certain fran-
sical ma-ladie they call love; when I wa*
a young 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 ou
master schoolmaster, bee not so bashless;
we say that the fairesi; are ever the gentlest:
teil the whole case, for you can much
better vent the points of it than I."
Then came forward master Rontbns, and
in the manner of " Lingo," in the " Agree
able surprise" (a character undoubtedly
derived from this Jiotnbus), 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 resplcndant
beams thus segregated the enmitie of these
rural animals : 1 am Polcntissma Vomina,
a schoolmaster, that is to say, a pedagogue,
one not a littie versed in the disciplinating
of the Juvenal frie, wherein (to my laud 1
say it) I use such geometrical proportion
as neither v^antcd mansuetude nor cor-
rection ; for so it is described, Finrare
Subjcctus et debelUre Superbos. Yet hath
not the pulcritude of my virtues protected
mee from the contaminating hands of these
plebeians; for comino,, solu?vmoclo, to have
parted their sanguinolent fray, they yielded
mee no more reverence than if I had been
som Fecorius Asimts. I, even I, that am,
who am I ? iJixt, verbus sapiento saliim
est. But what said that Trojan uEneaSj
when hee sojourned in the surging nilks
of the sandiferous seas, Ilac ohm memo-
nasse juvebit. Well, Well, ad propositus
revcrtebo ; the puritie of the veritie is, that
a certain Fulcra pucllu p-o/cr/o, elected
and constituted by the integrated determi-
nation of all this topograpiiical region, as
the sovereign ladie of this dame Maie'a
2G5
THE YEAR BOOK.-MAY 1.
month, hath oeen quoMimniodo liunled, as
you would say, pursued by two, a brace, a
couple, a cast of younjjf men, to whom the
craftie coward Cupid had inquam delivered
his dire-dolorous dart."
Here the " Mai/'Ludie' interrupted his
speech, at which master Rombus in a great
chafe, cried out — "O Temporiy O Moribus /
in profession a childe, in dignitie a woman,
in years a ladie, in cateris a maid, should
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 tlie 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
ishamed to tell it) two young men, the one
a forrester named Therion, the other Espi-
lus, a shepherd, very long even in love
forsooth. I like them both, and love
neither ; Espilus is the richer, but T/ierion
the livelier. Therion dolh mee many
pleasures, as stealing me venison out of
these forrests, and many otlier such like
pretiie 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-
tion, 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.
Novv the question I am to ask you, fair
.adie, is, whether the many deserts and
many faults of Therion, or the very small
deserts and no faults of Espilim, bee to
oe preferred. But before you give your
judgment (most excellent ladie) you shall
hear what each of them can say for them-
Behes in their rural songs."
Here Therion in six verses challenged
Espilus to sing with him. And " Espilus,
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 forrcsters.
with the cornets they wore about tlieir
ercks like hunting horns 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
Majestic should give of their deserts, the
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 tiie moie wor-
shipful. The speakers were Dorcas an
old shepherd, and iJuws a young forrester,
between whom the schoolmaster Rombut
came in as a moderator."
To the shepherd Dorcas, who achieved
his best, the forester Hixus answered,
— "Tlie shepherd's life had som 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 bod ie, and raise
up the minde with this gallant sort of
activitie. O sweet contentation 1 to see
the long life of the hurtless trees, to see
how in streight growing up, though nevet
so high, they hinder not their fellows; they
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."
P'inally, at the end of the singing and
the music, 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. I
should do you wrong to beseech you to
take our follies well, since your bountie is
such as to pardon greater faults. There-
fore I will wish you good niglit, 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
2G6
xriE TEAR BOOK.— MAY 1.
singular bequest, under the above title, I
have for siome 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
clerk 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 VIIL, 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 kingdom 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 in 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
to improve it and make it flourish. He
procured it to be incorporate by the name
of a warden and society of the king's town
of Sutton Coldfield, granting to them and
to their successors forever 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 (^oneat 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
built Moor Hall, where he spent the latter
part of his life in hospitality and splendor,
saw for many years the good effect of his
munificence,' 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 snould 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 £5 each; but subsequent-
ly, owing to its having lain dormant and
money having risen, the interest is increas-
ed to £lOO or £25 each.
The bequest is annomced in the parish
church annually by 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 awariled.
Natives of the place are of course pre-
ferred; but if four cannot be found of good
character and with other qualifications tlien
the longest residents are taken.
Yours respectfully,
William Pare.
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 married
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 crows
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, who, from their seals on
the surrounding trees, had witnessed the
combat: with a few croaks he 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 !
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. *
Hawthorn.
A few years ago Mr. Taylor, of INIorton,
received the silver medal of the Society o
♦ Shrewsbury Chronicle,
267
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 2.
hedges may be formed, in a more expedi-
Arts, for liuvinp; discovered that hawthorn
tious manner than usual, by cutting the
roots of this shrub into small pieces, and
pldnting them with the top orte-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. Philip and St. Jamks.
The first of May stands in the churcli
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 Every-Duy
Book.
May.
Up, up, let us greet
The season so sw< et^
For winter is gone :
And the flowers are springing,
And little birds singing.
Their soft notes ringing,
And bright is the sun !
Where all was drest
In a snowy vest.
There grass is growing
With dew-drops glowing
And flowers are seen
On beds so green.
AH down in the grove.
Around, above.
Sweet music fioats ,
As now loudly vying.
Now softly sighing.
The nightingale's plying
Her tuneful notes.
And joyous at spring
Her companions sing.
Up, maidens, repair
To the meadows so fair
And dance we away
This mery May !
Godfrey of Nifen, I3ih 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 rnaculutujiij are under the hedges
and shady pilaces.
♦ Layii of the Minnesingers.
Red campion flows pleniifully.
Bu'^le, 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
martini have all arrived. The nightingale
and thrush continue to delight the car by
night, the voice of the cuckoo is heard by
night and by day, and all the birds are in
full song.
mm 2.
William Camden, the illustrious ex-
plorer of our antiquities, who was born
in the Old Bailey, on the 2d of INIay,
1551, relates concerning the objects of
worship with our forefathers, as follows, —
Saxon Deities.
Mercvry 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 Tuisco, 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 aflfairs 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. !Z'//or, 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 thund or
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. Thor seems to be
represented with the sceptre of Jupiter.
2G8
THE YEAE BOOK.— MAY 3.
TiiE Sprikg Siiowr.u.
Away to that sunny nook •, for tlio tliu'k shower
Rushes on stridingly Ay, now it comes.
Glancing about the leaves with its first dips.
Like snatches of faint music. Joyous thrush.
It mingles with thy song, and beats soft time
fo thy bubbling shrillness. Now it louder
falls.
Pattering, like the far voice of leaping rills ;
And now it breaks upon the shi-inking clumps
Witli a crash of many sounds, — the thrush is
still.
There are sweet scents about us j the violet
hides
On that green bank ; the primrose sparkles
there :
The earth is grateful to the teeming 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 misl.
The air is clear again ; and the far woods
Shine out in their early green. Let's onward,
then.
For the first blossoms peep about the path.
The lambs arc nibbling the short dripping
grass,
And the birds are on the bushes.
Kn'ighCs Qitarterlij 3Ia(/a7jjie.
" For so have I seen a lark rising from
Ills bed of grass, and soaring upwards,
singing as he rises, and hopes to get to
lieaven, and climb above the clouds; but
t'iie poor bird was beaten back by the
loud sighings of an eastern wind, and his
motion made irregular and inconstant,
descending more at every brealh 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 inusic and motion from an
angel, as he passed sometimes througli
the air, about his ministries here below."
— Jeremy Taylor.
h. m.
May 2.— Day breaks ... 2 3
Sun rises .... 4 36
— sets .... 7 24
Twiliglit ends ... 9 57
Pike, geranium flowers scantily.
Wall speedwell flowers in fields and on
walls.
The common luarigold 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 will dreara,
And cock his hat, and turn his eye
On flower, and tree, and deepening sky.
And oft burst 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 cathedial, upon which occasion, by
order of the dean, was revived the an-
cient manner of clianting the Litany, as
composed by Dr. Tallis, music-master to
Henry VIII. Tiie collection at the church
and dinner, and at a previous reliearsal,
with a benefaction of £50 from the Apollo
Acaderjiy, amounted to£ll40, 16s., which
was the largest sum ever before contri-
buted.
HORSEMAKSHIP.
May 3, 1758, a wag^r was laid at
Newmarket, by a your.g lady, that she
would ride 1000 miles in 1000 hours,
which she a-ccomplished in little more
than a third of the time.*
Whipping 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 hall of which the 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 Ctil-desnc.
* Boyle's Chronology
2G9
THE YEAR BOOK.-MAY 4.
So much for the locaUty, 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 bell, claim the
riu'ht 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
combined 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
iaugh 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
get 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-
cesiiful, render jt a scene of gaiety and
humor to which the young look forward
with considerable 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
enqui-er, of which I will cheerfully furnish
you some 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
h. m.
2
4 34
7 26
10
Cross flower flowers.
Poetic narcissus flowers.
Germander speedwell flowers abun-
dantly.
Stock gilliflowers are out in profusion.
Common wallflower is numerously in
flower.
4th May, 1733, died Mr. John Under-
wood, of VVhittlesca, 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 his
corpse. His coffin was painted green.
He was laid in it with all his clothes 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, ELMI EN
TQi STAYPQi, J. U., in his left hand a
small edition of Horace, with this inscrip-
tion, "Mvsis 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 31st Ode of the
first book of Horace, drank a cheerful
glass, and 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 :— " Which done, I wou-ld
have them take a cheerful glass, and
think no more of John Underwood."*
May 4. Day breaks . . .
Sun rises . . . .
— sets . . . .
Twilight ends . .
Early piony flowers.
Basque flower appears daily.
Slender narcissus flowers.
• Gent's. Mag
h. m.
1 56
4 32
7 28
10 4
270
THE YEAE BOOK.— MAY 6.
ifHa^ 5.
ShaFvX and Boy.
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 sliip, 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
the hungry monster, he seized the unfor-
tunate boy, by including within his mouth
the whole of the right leg, and more tlian
half the thigh. He pulled the boy with
him beneath 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 the extent
above-mentioned- The boy once more
made his appearance on tlie surface of the
water, and the shark 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 tlie
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
extraordinary case, subscribed upwards of
280/. 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 tliis 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 continiied;
but, on account of certain consideration*
of expediency, determined that its aboli-
tion should be gradual, and a hill was
passed, permitting the trade. ui,.ler cer-
tain limitations, to be earned on till the
1st of January, 1796, after which u was
to be totally prohibited. When this bill
was camed 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, w hose " vested interests"
were likely to be affected by the abolition
of the traffic, were represented by the fol-
lowing
Petition
To the Right Ilonorahley S)C.
" Sheweth,
" 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 fallen 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 aflbrd 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 petitioners,
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,
aflbrd to your petitioners the highest ^'t
171
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 5.
'fication which tliojr nuluies are capable of
enjoying.
** Thus benefited, as your petitioners
are, by this widely-extended traffic, a
traffic which has never before been mo-
lested, it is with the utmost indignation
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 ilie 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 tlie 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 tediou?, 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 he&vings of the wave
Impel the fleet whose errand is to save.
To succour wasted rc^jions, and rf place
Tlie smile of opulence in sorrow's face, —
Hut ah ! wliat wish can prosper, or what
prayer,
For merchants rich in cargoes of despair.
Who drive a loathsome tralHc, gauge and span
And buy the muscles and the bones of man ?
Cow PER.
" NVhat 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 iiis 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
tiling in the world, and in the order of
things, as comfort and joy, to begin to
break out from th.e 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 tlie 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 in useful channels ; and the flies
do rise again from their little giaves in
walls, and dance awhile in the air, to tell
tliat their joy is within, and that the great
inolher of creatures will open the stock of
her new refreshment, become useful to
mankind, and sing praises to her 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 he 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 rejoicin^j, ancl
comforted and thankful persons." — Je-
rctnj/ Taylor.
May 5. — Day breaks
Sun rises .
Heav'n speed the canvass, gallantly unfurl'd
To furnish and accommodate a world.
To give the pole the produce of the sun,
And knit the unsocial climates into one.-—
h. m.
1 52
4 31
7 29
10 8
— sets . ,
Twilight ends
Oaks are in young leaf.
Elms have their leaves nearly ex pandect
Early cherry-trees go out of blossom.
272
THE YEAE BOOK.— MAY 5.
MAUSOLEUM OF THE TALBOTS, DORKlNa CHURCH.
As the clock struck four in the after- Surrey. The sky was ''^^"f «^/^/^^^^^^
noon of Thursday, the Slst March last, sun, which had shone forth Jor sever^
we left the Spread Eagle, Gracechurch- hours, had so tempered the air, that in
Ttre t for the'p^pose ff v'isiting BoxhiU, spite of a keen.ast.rly wmd, -^mj^^Py^
a romkntic spot in the vicinity of Dorking, enough. By « easy roads we soon got
Vol IV.
273
THE YEAE BOOK.— MAY 5.
quit of the city and suburbs, and passed
quietly onward towards our destination.
VVe l)ad 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-
Dandry."
We alighted at the Red Lion, and re-
alized the pilgrim-poet's description of the
' Tabard"—
— — tlie chambrcs weren wido.
And well we weren escd atte bcste.
Under the influence of a comfortable fire
and a hearty meal, we grew presently
mighty merry, and set off 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.
Now pealing loud again, and louder still.
Clear and sonorous as the gale comes on.
The evening was passed chiefly in plan-
ning 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, in the
paddock of a suburban villa not far dis-
tant from Morden — " I would you did
but see how 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 h?th 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
simple 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 itgelf,
• The Stane-street, or Roman-road, from
Arundel to Dorking, is said to have passed
through 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 Cliarles Parkhurst,
Who ne're could dance or sing.
But always was true to
His Sovereign Lord the King,
Charles the First.
Ob. Dec. XX. MDCCIV.
aetat. LXXXVI.
Item. The church of Lered, otherwise
Letherhead, built 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 f^ishion 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 ofi"
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,
my 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.
Scattering the rear of darkneis thin.
But notwithstanding these morning melo-
dies I arose, from very restlessness, an
hour before my usual time, and paid a
visit to the church, a neat building, though
274
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 5.
the roof being of slate-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 verging to decay, which 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 felt 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, though
they filled the mind with deep and mys-
terious musings of " ruin, boundless-
ness, omnipotence." The iron railings
surrounding this burial place, disjointed,
and profusely covered with rust — the frac-
tured pediment — and the bald escutcheon,
exhibiting but few and faint traces of that
gilding which had once covered the greater
part of it, and entirely divested of its
other tinctures, preached forcibly the pass-
ing nature of all 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
riglit 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 it, to a pale primrose hue, which was
strikingly contrasted with the warm,
intense, ruddy light, tinging the natural
velvet of a thatched cottage near at hand,
till it flamed out against the dull, cold
back-ground, "a glorious thing, and a
beautiful."
Owing to this mistake of ours we were
obliged to retrace our steps beside the
river, amusing ourselves with culling sim-
ples, and thinking, as we gazed on the sun-
lit shallows which presented a variety of
tints, of these sweet and pleasant verses
of the Farmer's boy —
Sweet health I seek thee ! hither bring
The balm that softens human ills.
Come on the long-drawn 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 browM wood, the headlong steep
And valley pat^s, without a crowd !
Here,t Thamet , J watch thy flowing tides —
Thy thousand sails am glad to see ;
But, where the Mole all silent glides.
Dwells peace, and peace is wealth to me.
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
same " Swallow." 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
Eoxhill,
t Shooter's-bili.
276
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 5.
and barren tract, Lid 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 " flecherin noise
an' gbe ;" 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 sur-
mounting it. Tlip cock seemed a little
disconcerted at my unceremonious intru-
sion, arid walked off with an ill gract,
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 building, on the
north side, noticed a low arched recess
which might formerly have screened some
sepulchral effigy. From a wooden me-
morial I copied the following lines, which
nave much the character of those letters
usually appended to" last dying speeches"
" Dear IIusbaHd,
Since my life ia past, love did remain wliilc
life did last ; but now no sorrow for me make j
pray love my children for my sake."
From this place we "took to the road
again," and pioceeded quietly enougli
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 opposite side of the common stands a
quiet hostelrie, known as the Red J.ion ;
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, indian-iiik, 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 Canonhury Tower,
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-chalunce, 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
27G
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 6.
jpire considerably out of the perpen-
dicular, which " G." naturally enough
accounted for by supposing that the poor-
ness of the soil might make it learif much
in the same manner as it affects the mutton
hereabout, which being /"ad on " short
commons,"* though very aelicate, is re-
markable for its smallnes^. Now lest any
should think this fact a ru5ro "■ figure or
phantasy," coined for the ui.e of certai;^.
punsters of our company, I adduce Ci-^
testimony of Dyer, from whose " Fleece"
these lines are quoted : —
Wide airy dowas
Are health's gay walks to shepherd aua to
sheep.
All arid soils, with sand or chalky flint.
Or shells diluvian mingled ; and the turf
That mantles over rocks of brittle stone.
Be thy regard ; and where low tufted broom.
Or box, or bcrry'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-
ing a conspicuous object to the left, over
which the prospect stretches as far 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-
worth —
Up with me ! up with me ! into the clouds ;
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, his 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 represented.
* Borrowed — J. L
^ut exhibiting nothing of this " olde, olde,
very olde," relic of those darker days,
when the heedless dead were by common
consent —
•^^ doomed to fast in fires,
lili the foul crimes done in their days of
nature
Were bum* aa \ parged away.
The do.'f artanding 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, 1 copied these
verses —
This Dttonument presents unto your viewe
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
19th 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 pitying sorrow drops a tender tear.
The bit sad tribute to a friend sincere !
On cur 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 Streatham
experienced a heavy fall of rain, which
promised little intermission, so that we
gladly availed ourselves of the first con.
277
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 6, 7.
veyance homeward ; and thus ended the
day's eventful history. D. A.
Camhcrwell, April 1831.
Isaac and Peter Oliver.
Horace Wal pole's mention of the sale of
an historical miniature by Peter Oliver^ in
May 1726, 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. lie painted a few pieces of
history, but generally portraits; which
have so much truth and delicacy, as 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.
The greater part of the collection of
pictures made by Charles I., among which
were several of the Oliver's, being dis-
persed in -the troubles, Charles II., who
remembered 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
Isleworth 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 then 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
court, the poor woman's annuity was
stopped, and she never received it after
wards.
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 166G. 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
prison, on a glass window, at Christ-
Church, Oxford, inscribed, " J. Oliver,
aetat. 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.
h. m.
Mai/ 6. — Day breaks ..149
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.
ifttai)7.
May Poles and Plays.
A letter of this date in the time of the
Commonwea^lth 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.''
278
THE YEAB BOOK.— MAY 7.
[Copy.]
"Newcastle, the 7th day of May, 1660.
" Sir, — The country as well as the town
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."*
Groom Porter
[For the Year Book.]
Whetherthe 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 other ceremonies at Court on
T.velfth Day, 1731, 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 Holborn 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 notice 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.
By unresistible luck, within this fortnight.
Enough to buy a barony. They will set him
Upmost at the Groom Porter's, all the Christ -
mas.'^ — Jonson's Alchemist, 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 gamesters,
to improve my stock at the Groom
Porters, I ventured on and lost all." —
Mrs. Behri'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 Porter^ s at
night." — Shadivell'S True Widow, Act 3.
J. B— — n.
Staffhrdshii^e Moorlands.
h. m,
1 45
27
33
15
Ma2/ 7. — Day breaks .
Sun rises ... 4
— sets ... 7
Twilight ends . 10
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.
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.
279
TITE YEAR BOOK.- MAY 7.
CHESSMEN DESIGNED BY FLAXJMAN.
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 power, 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, II. A., of whom it has
been jually said, that " he was the first
of our countrymen who united poetry with
sculpture, executed for Messrs. Wedge-
wood, of Ktruria, 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 IVIessrs. Wedgewood's esta-
blishment in London, no further informa-
tion relative to these specimens of elegant
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.
280
THE YEAH BOOK.— MAY 7.
The bishops are from one mould . Could
your readers see the cast, I think they
would acknowledge that the figure could
not be surpassed. The spirit of religion
and meekness has never been developed
m a purer form ; the countenance, the
attitude, the fall of the drapery, are all
inexpressibly beautiful.
Tiie knight?, are likewise from the same
mould : the grouping of the man and
horse is very graceful, and the action
highly spirited and characteristic.
The castles, 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 positions 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.
II. R.
A Les5on on tue 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 Flax man'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
JBoo/c, p. 271.
We had just concluded a game, and w ere
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 my 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 visitors garments did not ap-
pear to have been made with quite so
much care as that nobleman'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 just
used. I was enabled to write every word
that fell from his lips. This circumstance
now appears to me to oe 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 souglit after, and entertained
as the friends of tlie 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-failing source of
rational enjoyment to the many. The
studious, the wise, the good, in every
clirne have considered it a noble recrea-
tion ; following the example of the early
masters of its mysteries, they liave record-
ed for the benefit of posterity the result of
their practice ; and the moralist has form-
ed from it many a pleasing and instruc-
tive allegory.
" The work before you contains my
281
THE YEAR BOOK.-MAY 7.
pnnciples 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 Fawns 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 s»~^urely bring his pieces
into play. But .n 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 Castkj moving over the board in
direct lines, represents that innate sense
of justice pervading every 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
wjiich, 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 tney never leave the
color of the square tney start from, they
are typical of a firm faith.
" Ambition may find a representative
m the Queeii; 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 Kingy only moving one square at
a time, while every direction is open to
his choice, is highly characteristic of Pru-
dence. 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 tl>e 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 l" I exclaimed ; and, as I
spoke, I was surprised to sec 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 obligation, 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," 1 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 sleep.
A. I.
March, 1831.
Writers on Chess — Players at the
Game — Chessmen.
[For the Year Book. J
Much learning has been wasted, to very
little purpose, in tracing the origin of the
game of chess : it has been referred by
some to the irsTTsia, and by others to the
ttXivOiov of the Greeks. Some have con-
sidered it to bear a resemblance to the
Latrunculus, some to the Alveus, of the
Romans. Some, again, have believed it
iO 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 Ciiinese 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 east.
282
THE YEAE BOOK.— MAY 7.
That, even in Europe, the game may
boast considerable antiquity, is proved by
the existence of a book written by Dacci-
esole, 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
which the variations of the anonymous
Modenese, Lolli, D IJoAnn.
12 9
2
33
4
7
62
59
6
1
34
11
8
63
60
31
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 j 24 j 15 [ 30
5
27 j 2
19
16 1 29 ! 4 ] 23
1 II
14
10 j 17
«
25
I2J21J 6 j 31
1 j 26
11
20
7 j 32 j 13 j 22
54 45
64
39 52 1 43 j 58 ! 33
63
38
53
44
57 [ 40 [ 49 j 42
46
55
36
61
48 ! 51 ! 34
1 1
59
37
62
.
56
35
60 j 41
50
VARIOUS COMMUNICATIONS ON CHESS.
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
chess during the decisive battle between
him and Bajazet. 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 game a philoso-
phic folly. His son,Charies I., was at chess
when told 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 dovrn to
chess : this prince always used the king
more than any other piece, and thereby
lost every game ; not perceiving that the
king, although the most considerable of
290
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 7.
all, is impotent, 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
shdtrangf or, more commonly, shutrung.
The piece we call the queen, the hon.
Daines Barrington derives from the
Persian pher-z, or general, and exposes the
absurdity of calling this piece a queen,
by asking how we are to metamorphose a
foot soldier, or pawn, into a queen, as
admitted in the English game. The
blunder appears to have arisen from
French gallantry. Vterge, in French, is
virgo ; and, consorting with the king, they,
by a very natural transition, made their
virgin a queen
The bishop (formerly j^/, an elephant),
the knight (originally aswa, horse), the
rooks (at first raVhaan, 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, from 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 nations
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 game
of Chess,* asserts and maintains the claim
of the Chinese as inventors. Du Ilalde
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 Kiangnan, sent
an expedition into the Shense country,
under 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 soothmg
his troops, and reconciling them to their
condition, in order to complete his oper-
ations in the following year, appeared
urgent, and therefore, after much consi-
deration, he invented the game of chess,
as well to amuse his 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 tlie general
took the field again, and in a few months
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 as'sumed 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^ bt
291
THE YEA.R BOOK.—MAY 7.
was then first established ; but we find in " The draught of the kyng, and how
(}ale*s edition of Hist. Ilamsieins (c. 85) he meuelkhim in theeschequer.Ca. ii
that, when bishop Gilheric obtained ad- " Of the meuyng of the quene, and
mission to Canute t-be great, upon some howsheyssueth outofher place.Ca. iii
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 chess. From *' Of the yssue of the rookis, aid of
Hist. Olai Magni (p. 572), we learn that her progresse. Ca vj
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 epilogacion, and recapitula-
his temper by playing with him at dice cion of thys book. Ca. . . . viii.*'
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 vyctotis, and
1474, it appears that this game was not disordynate in his lyuyng, was made iust
uncommon during the reign of Edward and vertuous, 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 jj^^ ^""V^J^^^ "^ u ^^^ condicion he be
four traytyes and partyes ^*^ 'fy}^ ""' ^^'^^\ »h.s litel book redde,
« rr^L r s ^ . ^^^^ therby ensaumple to amende hym. —
Thejirst traytye. Explicit, per CaxtSn." This is the first
" How the play of chesse was fyrst book that was ever printed in England.
foundfin,andvnder what kyng. Cap. i It is certain that chess was a fashion-
'* Who fonde first the play of the able amusement in most houses of rank,
chesse. Ca il in the time of Richard HI. Elizabeth
« Wherefore the play was fonden was a chess player, and Charles the Mar-
and maad. Ca. . . . . lii tyr is supposed to have been a player at
" The second tray tye. 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
" Theordreof chyualrye of knyght- le Gros, son of Philip of France, which
hode, her offycers 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, ^ho retaliated the affront
ers. Ca .. i by flooring Louis with the board, and was
**Themannerandoffyceofasmyth.Ca. ii proceeding to kill h\m 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 1 1 7,
" The manners of marchauntes and an English knight, seizing the bridle of
chaungers, Ca iiii Louis le Gros, and crying out " fAe /aVig'*
" The forme /s*^ jjhysiciens, leches, taherif* Louis struck him to the ground
spycers, an/ursued *?/caryes. Ca. . v with his sword, saying, " Ne scais tu pas
" Of taueriyfs not only i, 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?'' In the reign of
custom, and toUenars. 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 thechesse-bordein genere, how popular among the English, before the
it is made. Ca i introduction of cards; this may account
292
THE YEAR BOOK. -MAY 7
for the " chccquers" 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 checquerSf' 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 reel
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 King must be thus made ; for he
must set in a chair clothed in purple,
crowned on his head ; in his riglit hand
a sceptre, in his left hand an apple of
gold.'^
" Thus ought The Queen to be made :
she ought to be a fair lady, silting in a
chair, 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 ampleciions and embracings of
her husband."
" The Alphyns [or Bishops] ought to
be 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 hi;* 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 Rooks, 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 meneuyer, holding a staff in
his hand."
^^Description of Pawns.
" The first Pawn that is in the play of
*he chess, signifieth a man of the Common
People, for they be all called piesons ; that
is as much as to szy, 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 adolabre ; 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 forceUs (forceps), and in the left a
great knife, and on his girdle a penner and
inkhorn,and on his ear a pen to 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 cloth, 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 this
form ; for it is a man that hath the right
hand stretched out as to call men, and
holdeth in his left hand a loaf of bread
2!)3
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 7.
and a cup of wine ; and on his girdle
lianging a bundie of keys ; and thus re-
sembleih the laverners, hostlers, and sellers
of victual."
T/te seventh Puxcn. " The guards and
keepers of cities be signified by th«> 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 for to measure with, and ought to
have on his girdle a purse open."
The eighth Faum. " The ribalds,
players at dice, and the messengers and
Couriers ought to be set before the rook,
for it appertaineth to the rook, whicli is
the vicar of the King, to have men con-
venable (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 usual 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
crown, 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
officer 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 alcayde found the
prince playing at chess, with an alfagui or
priest. Juzof begged hard for two hours'
respite, which was denied him ; at last,
wiih great reluctance, the officer permitted
him to finish the 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 Ferrand,
Count of Flanders, who having been
accustomed to amuse himself at chess with
his wife, and being constantly beaten by
her, a mutual hatred took place ; which
came to such a height, that, when the count
was taken prisoner at the battle of Borrnes,
she suffered 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 squares one
way and twelve the other.
Subjoined is an " Explanation of the
position, poicers, and moves of the pieces on
the Chinese Chess-boardf 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,
"'Die 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
macLf stand and move like ours in every
respect.
* The war-chario(s, or tchfe, resemble
our rooks or castles.
" The rocket-boys, or paci, 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.
294
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 7.
" 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 last 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 Arithmeticum,"
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 the 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 /bo/, the Spaniards
alferez, and the Italians alfiere 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 name
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
irmies by way of light horse. The rapid
motion of this piece, which jumps from
one end of tlie 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 (Fitzvvaren) 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 borde ; 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 persons
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 ihey both lived to a
very old age, yet t!ie 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. 531, a correspondent
states that " the earl of Arundel, in tiie
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." In
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 Rufus, 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."
295
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 8.
CHESSMEN DESIGNED BY FLAXMAN.
Should cither of these statements be
correct, I deduce therefrom that my im-
putation of the origin of chequers to chess
alone is not unfounded, and particularly
as it is stated, in Dr. llees's Enclyclo-
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 chess
rooks in their arms."
I am, &c.
J. F. R.
Walworth, April 13, 1831.
PlIILIDOR.
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 liis " Ana-
lyse du Jeu des Echecs," in 12mo., Lond.
174<:-. He died on the 31st of Au-
gust, 1795, at the age of sixty-nine. He
enjoyed to the last a strong retentive me-
mory, wliich long rendered him remark-
able. He was a member of the Chess
Club near thirty years. His meek quali-
ties caused him to be no less esteemed as
a companion than he was admired for that
extraordinary skill in the difficult game of
chesi which pre-eminently distinguished
him. Two months before his death, he
played two games blindfold at the same
time, against two excellent chess-players,
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.*
mat) 8.
The Season.
Each hedge is cover'd thick with green j
And, where the hedgcr late hath been.
Young tender shoots begin to grow
From out the mossy stumps below.
But woodmen still on Spring intrude,
And thin the shadow's solitude ,
With sharpened axes felling down
2%
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 9.
CHESSMEN DESIGNED BY FLAXMAN.
The oak-trees budding into brown,
Whicb, as they crash upon the ground,
A crowd of laborers gather round.
These, mixing 'mong the shadows dark,
Eip 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.
Clare,
May 8.
h. m.
Daj breaks . . . 1 41
Sun rises . . 4 26
— sets .... 7 34
Twilight ends . . . 10 19
Celandine, king's-spear, and Welsh-
poppy in flower.
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 I., 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 the
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 his friends to purchase his
estates, valued at £l678 per annum, foi
297
THE YIIAR BOOK.— MAY 10, 11.
the use of his son, who, by attaint of
blood, was reduced to a commoner.*
The treasure of the deep is not »o precious.
As arc the concealed comforts of a man
Lock'd up in woman's love. I scent the air-
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-
li-ht
To Ciisi their modest odours.
Middle ton, 1657.
May 9.
h. m.
1 38
4 24
7 36
10 22
comfrey
Day breaks . . .
Sun rises ....
— sets
Twiliglit ends . .
SoVomon's seal flowers.
Common comfrey, Forster'
(Symptetum Forsteri), and Scotch com-
frey flower.
The swift is sometimes first seen to day ;
the general arrival is usually a week
later.
Whit Sunday.
According to the rule in the calendar
by which Easter Sunday may fall at the
earliest on tlie 22d of March, Whit Sunday,
which is the seventh Sunday after Easier,
may fall at the earliest on the 10th of
May.
WiiiT Sunday Customs.
On Easter-eve and Whitsunday- eve,
the Font-halloiving was one of the many
various ceremonies in early times. The
writer of a MS volume of Homilies in
the Ilarleian 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, td."
• Noble
Strewing the Church. Collinson, in hit
}Iistory 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 ;
tliat 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.
May 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 later.
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 Book.
Whitsuntide was formerly one of the
seasons greatly preferred for ruarrying,
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-office in the Fleet, and
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 L 2S1.
298
THE YEAR BOOK.--MAY 12.
barkers, to ask people passing in the
streets whether they wanted a clergyman
to marry them. Keith and 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 officiate
for many years, till he was again obliged
to take refuge in the 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 in a state 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 assunjed it to themselves, as
a mark of marriages performed without
imposition." Keith lived till he had at-
tained his 89th year. He died in 1735.
Jl% 11.
Whitethorn every 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.
[Fcr the Year Book.]
The origin of this very curious and sin-
gular custom, \^hich is triennially 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 taking place 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, was then and there sold con-
secrated " salt." whence the name of tlie
h. m.
Day breaks
. . 1 30
Sun rises
. . 4 21
— sets . .
. . 7 39
Twilight ends .
. . 10 30
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 ?ninutia 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 lucus a 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 Ecgland
and Wales by J. Britfon.
299
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 12.
whose duly is most heavy, hare been
omitted ; these are the " 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, sergeant3,and corporals
have been deducted ; and also of a certain
number of tlie 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 " that 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 contiibuted,
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
words Mos pro lege, " Custom in place of
right." In consideration of the great
fatigue they would otherwise undergo in
thus scouring the country, 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., levy 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 mil.
The 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 Guards
(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 aff"righted
Student betook himself to his heels.
After another "absence"on the Montem
tlie 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 tl>e 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.) ^ 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 Captairiy really the commanding
officer, for whose " benefit" the
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.
300
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 12.
v^4.) An Ensign, me second boy, that is
a king's scholar, to whom is entrusted
the College Flag.
Besides these a great many (5.) Ser-
geantSf and (6.) Corporals, 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 of the hfth form are attired
in military coats, cocked hats and
feathers, white trowsers, and boots ;
girded with a sword, quite a la mili-
taire,oia\\ 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
" lobsters."
(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. All 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 Montem has the very
opposite effect of leaving him out of
pocket,. 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 boys, the payment of all dam-
age done to the garden, and above all the
breakfast, which is expected to be an ele-
gant dejeunS a lafourchette,\irovided at his
own cost for two-hundred school-fellows !
the collection, however, frequently
amounts to between £ 800 and i 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,
but 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,
though 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 in
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 crush in the cloisters and mob
on the Mount — I love the clatter of car-
riages and the plunging of horsemen —
I 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 torn-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 I' "
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 parts
rheumatic,
* Windsor, not London, gent.* reader.
101
THE YEAE BOOK-MAY 12.
Yet» alert in my car.
Then comes CrkaSY,
Like a young mao-of-war.
Don't he please ye ?
Or a horac.
Lo ! as bright
Or a ahay.
A. night
Or (I'm quite at a loss
By the harvest moon or star-lit j
What next 1 shoulJ say) ;
With gloves on his knuckles.
So with out anymore gaytropes and fine figures.
And shoes and buckles.
Hail ! masters, young, old, white, dusky, or
March away, march away, Mr. SCA RLETT.
niggers.
Not less enchanting.
l.ate as I lay upon my bed.
See Mr. Carlton, saunter in
And snugly drcam't upon my pillow.
With his legs in leather boots.
Great Phoebus self stood at my head,
Moving to the sound of flutes ;
And cried, with voice emphatic, hillo.
And the portly Mr. CRAVEN,
Get up and sing of Montcm, and of salt.
Gently skims along the field :
He said and vanished like a pint of malt.
And Mr. Armstrong nearly raving,
Pregnant with inspiration, up I rose.
With a sword but not a shield.
First snatched my lyre— then put on my
Then comes Mr. Snow,
clothes.
Whose red coat as you know
Harnessed my steed.
Is as fine as it can be.
I did indeed.
With lace very handy ;
And, as I drank a pint of purl, I
And JiLP the very pink of fashion.
Wrote upon the hurly-burly.
With breeches, shoes, and hat, and sash on
Hark ! by the sound of the fifes and drums,
After him comes gallant MoORE,
I think the Marshal surely comes ;
And he looks any thing but poor ;
And here he is. Oh ! only look !
And see behind him Mr. HlILSE,
In red and gold like a leaving book ;
With beating heart, and beating pulse.
Then march on Mr. Hughes,
Dress'd as gay
In your boots 'stead of shoes ;
As any jay,
And y'r servants follow two by two.
In honor of the Montera day.
But none so gaily dress'd as you.
Then, behold, comes colonel MONCK,
But see ! how grand, with pages fine,
Admiring thousands cry " quid nunc j*'
Comes the Captain quite divine !
See his sword upon his thigh,
Ah ! my noble Captain Brown
See his feathers towering high ;
Sure your coat was made in town j
Y^'jvr, however, he's gone by.
And your pages dress'd as Greeks,
But soft, with a flag.
I've not seen such for many weeks j
What ensign is this ;
See they walk so nobly by, humph !
Were I now a wag,
Fit to grace a Roman triumph.
I might say Adonis ;
But they 're gone by.
No, sirs, in a word.
And, oh ! myeye.
Let the plain truth be heard ;
The Sergeant Major,
Ensign ELLIOT, advance
With a page, or
With your new step from Franco,—
Two in his train.
Wave the flag, see how funny
Stalks o'er the plain :
The people all talk.
March on then YONGE
The gents cry out " well done he !"
Your praise T 'vc sung.
The mob cry out " Oh lauk \"
So do'nt be vex'd;
Next the gay lieutenant Thced
But who comes next ?
Struts along ; he's fine indeed !
By my fame, I think 'tis BARRETT,
Methinks I hear each lady sigh
Dress'd as fine as any parrot ;
As the lieutenant marches by :
In his clothes of brilliant red.
To say the truth,
With his hat upon his head.
He's a noble youth,
But only see, sir.
So full of grace and dignity.
Sergeant MeasoR,
But the ladies like, I know,
Just look at him if you please, sir.
Most of all the motley show.
Behind him sergeant Hibbert moves.
Mr. Price,
In a pair of new white gloves ;
Who looks as nice
As king Cambys-
• It may perhaps be necessary to explain
this to some readers. There is a custom at
Or Achilles.
Eton of giving a book to a boy at his depar-
And brave Mr. Yard,
ture ; this is therefore called a leaving book.
With a mantle of velvet.
and, as it is generally handsomely bound and
If it should, rain ill-sfarr'd
gilt, the simile is on this occasion very appro-
Young man ! 'twill be well-wet
priate, nigarlic.
'
The march is done.
302
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 12.
Not so my song ;
I'd near forgot
<0h no! I'd not).
The steward FOR»,
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 unstrung.
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
Bailiff, or dun.
Or Tartar, or Hun.
Farewell, the world hath been, and must be.
To poets, statesmen, fiddlers, and to me.
C. Andrews, Printer, Windsor.
It must be confessed that, in point of
sense — I had well nigh said nonsense —
this Ode* comes up 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. Pilcarlick.
[From the same Correspondent.]
To render more complete the account of
the Montem, which I have already sent, I
transmit the following :
Extract from the Courier, May 1799.t
Yesterday 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 scholars, 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 Edgeworth's Parent's
Assistant, p. 239, vol. iii., ed tion in 3 vols.
831.
Their royal highnesses the dukes of
Kent and Cumberland, earl Morton, and
general Gwynne, all on horseback, dressed
m 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 musicians
of the Staffordshire band, and Mr. Ford,
captain of the seminary, the sergeant-
major, sergeants, colonels, corporals, mu-
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 the former lady Lade was fore-
most in the throng ; only two others dared
venture 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 fifty 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.
Their 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 oi
Wales and duke of Cumberland, after
taking leave of their majesties, set off for
303
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 12.
town, and honored ihe Opera House with
iheir presence in llie evening.
The profit arising from the salt col-
lected, according to account, amounted to
above £800.
The stadll.older, the duks 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, f flesh-color and blue ;
Spanish hat and f jathers.
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
royal family returned to Windsor, and the
boys were all sumptuously entertained at
the tavern, at Salt II ill. 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 king's
college, Cambridge, to defray which ex-
pense the produce of the Montem was
presented to him.
• Afterwards a master, and at present
a fellow of Eton.— Pi L.
t At present second master of Eton, having
succeeded Mr. Yonge, 1830.— Pi L.
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
Normandy, as one belonging to the manor
of East or Great Wrotham, in Norfolk.
When the harvest 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 from them, he was the lord's. The
Etonians, in order to secure the ram,
houghed him in the Irish fashion, and
then attacked him with great clubs. The
cruelty of this proceeding brought it into
disuse, and now it exists no longer. — See
liegister of the Royal Abbey of Bee j folio
58.
The article in the Courier concludes
with this statement — "After the dissolu-
tion of the alien priories, in 1414, by the
parliament of Leicester, they remained in
the crown till Henry VI., who gave Wro-
tham manor to Eton College ; and if the
Eton fellows would search, they would,
perhaps, find tlie manor, in their posses-
sion, that was held by the custom of Salt."
The Courier narrative differs 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,\^Z\, PlLOARLICK
h. m.
May 12. — Day breaks . 1 27
Sun rises ..419
— 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 (Hesperis matrinalis)
flowers
304
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 12.
HAWKING.
If hawking were fashionable, May would
be a busy season with lovers of the diver-
sion. It was the most predominant rural
amusement 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
" Hawking Downs," which were covered
with 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 gentleman 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
nawk 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 roacner, as the ladies did with their
fans
According to the reverend Mr. Chafm,
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,
they 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 gieat notoriety on the tun
there. He had race-horses in traiijing,
and regularly attended all the race meet-
ings, carrying with him several casts of
fine hawks, for the diversion of his nu-
meroiii: associates-
VOL IV
305
Xt
effc
OP
V3t4\V^
s\-r^
of
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 13, 14.
TuE Tears of Old May Day.
Xed by ihe jocund train of vernal hours,
And vernal airs, uprose the gentle May ;
Blushing she rose, and blushing rose the flowers
That sprung spontaneous in her genial ray.
Her looks with hcav'n's ambrosial dews were
bright,
Andam'rous xepbyrs flutter'd in licr breast:
With every shining 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 gratoful honors of mankind to taste ;
To g;Uher fairest wreaths of future fame.
And blend fresh triumphs with her glories
past.
Vain hope ! No more in choral bands unite
Her virgin votaries, and at early dawn.
Sacred to jMay, and Love's mysterious rite.
Brush the light dewdrops* from the span-
gled lawn.
To her no more Augusta'st wealthy pride
Pours the full tribute of Potosi's mine ;
Norfreshblowngarlandsvillage maids provide,
A purer off 'ring at her rustic shrine.
No more the Maypole's verdant height around
To valour's games th' ambitious youth 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.
O say, what yet untasted bounties flow,
What purer joys await her gentler reigu ?
Do lilies fairer, vi'lets sweeter blow ]
And warbles Philomel a sweeter strain ?
Do morning suns in ruddier glory rise 1
Does cv'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'ning charms her rude embraces fear;
• Alluding to the custom of gathering May-dew.
t The plate Garlands of London
Is she not sprung of April's wayward race.
The sickly daughter of th' unripen'd year
With show'rs and sunshine in her fickle eyes,
With hollow smiles proclaiming trc&ch'roui
peace !
With blushes harb'ring in their thin disguise.
The blast that riots on the spring's increase.
liOGAN.
il% 13- — Day breaks
Sun rises .
li. m
1 23
. 4 17
— sets ... 7 43
Twiliglit ends . JO 37
The corncrake, or landrail, heard by
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 cry of one of its
species
mav 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 chrislianity of the Romish clmrch;
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 days are by many
anxiously observed. That day of the
week on which the fourteenth of May
happens to fall, for instance, is deemed
unlucky through all the remainder 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 of
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 churcli walls always upon the
right hand. The bridegroom, however.
306
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 15, 1(5.
first retires one way with some young
men, to tie the knots which were loosed
about him ; wliile 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 cliild upon a clean basket, having a
cloth previously spread over it, with bread
and ciieese put into the cloth ; 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 twentv-five years
ago.*
h. m.
Mat/ lA. — Daybreaks. , , 1 19
Sun rise? . . . 4 16
— sets ... 7 44
Twilight ends . 10 41
The swifi, 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 the Exchequer. He was the son
of the vicar of Bloxham, in Oxfordshire,
and bred to the law, but possessing, few
requisites for the profession, he pushed his
interest by writing political pamphlets,
which were received with attention in the
proper quarters, so that he was called to
the coif, in 1704, and became king's Ser-
jeant in 1714-15. He was made a Justice
of the Common Pleas in 1726; and in
the following year a justice of the King's
Bench. His language was mean and tau-
tologus. In a charge to the grand jury at
the assizes, he said — "Gentlemen of the
jury, you ought to enquire a^ter recusants
in that kind, and such as do not frequent
the church in that kind; but, above all,
such as haunt ale-houses in that kind;
drunkards and blasphemers in that kind,
and all notorious offenders in that kind,
are to be presented in that kind, and, as
the laws in that kind direct, must be pro-
* Communicated by a juvenile correspon-
dent, 3 W., from Arlis's Pocket Magazine.
cceded against in that kind." To tijc
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 defendant, 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
without 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 enquired 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, unla-
mented in December, 1741, at the age of
80. Mr. Noble heard, when a boy, some
very severe lines that had been placed
upon his monument, which his relatives
greatly resented.
n. m.
May 15. — Daybreaks . . 1 15
Sun rises . , . 4 14
— sets ... 7 46
Twilight ends . 10 45
Great star of Bethlehem flowers.
Cockchaffer appears.
m^Vi 16.
The Season.
Each morning, now, the weeders meet
To cut the thistle from the wheat.
And ruin, in the sunny hours,
Full many a wild weed with it3 flowers ; —
Corn-poppies, that in crimson dwell,
Call'd " Head-achs," from their sickly smeU
307
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 17, 18.
And ciiarlocks, yellow as Uic sun.
That o'er tlic May-ficlcs quickly run ;
And '• Iron-weed," content to share
The meanest spot that Spring can spare.
Clare.
h. m.
May 16.— Day breaks . . 1 10
Sun rises . . . 4 13
— sets ... 7 47
Twilight ends . 10 50
Yellow star of IBellilehem begins to
flower.
The purple star of Jerusalem flowers
in gardens. The general flowering of
these two plants is in June
IHay 17.
May 17, 1823, as a country woman,
w-th her market-basket on her arm, was
i>liniring "a bit of finery," in a draper's
window, at York, her partner :n life came
up without being noticed by her, and, 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
£50 — 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 chaise 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.
May 17. — Day breaks .
Sun rises . .
-- sets . .
Twilight ends
1 4
4 11
7 49
10 50
ColumLine (Aijuiltgin vulgari.<) flowers
in uardens : 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
slrcw many varities.
fHili? 18,
May IR, 1732, the Rev. John Lawrence
M. A., prebendary of Salis^jury, died at
Bishops Wearmouth, Durham. lie 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 net krovv," 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 mosc
wholesome exercise, he'mg ad rubor em mm
ad 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 mor.^,
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.
Mat/ 18. Day breaks
Sun rises
h. m.
. . 57
. . 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 iarring
noise heard by night
308
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 19, 20.
fHai) 19.
A valued 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 the month, there is not
room for particulars ; and because, per-
haps, the kindness of correspondents may
afford additional facts.
h. m.
Jl% 19. Daybreaks ... 49
Sun rises ... 4 9
— sets .... 7 51
Twilight ends . .1111
Purple rhododendron flowers, and con-
tinues till the beginning of the summer
solstice.
mav 20.
The 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, tlie innocent cause of
this misfortune, 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 H^rdwicke, 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 his
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 n onument in his church, to the
memory of his father, mother, brother, and
lister, 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. He 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 that 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 bis eye-sight by a fail 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 rolls, and a commissioner
of the great seal. He cautioned James
n. 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 havo you
309
THE YEAE BOOK.— MAY 21, 22.
brought my cousin Roderic Lloyd, Esq.,
prothonotary of North Wales, Marshal to
baron Price, and so forlh,and so forih,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 n)y
back-stairs, and bring him up my front
stairs." To resist was vain. The protho-
notary of North Wales, marshal, and so
forth, was witiidrawn by the servant down
the back and brought up tiie front stairs,
while the bottle and glass were carefully
removed by " his Honour" the 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 tiie 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, and violently plunged
it against his antagonist, who immediately
fell. Terrified at the idea of murder and
retributive justice, he fled, and concealed
himself in the coal-hole of the master of
the Rolls. A faiiliful valet was sent in
the morning to 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.
Mat/ 20. Day breaks . .0 41
Sun rises ..47
— 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.
mav 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 punisli-
nient of excommunication, and were pre-
sented to the Consistory Court of Arches
at Durham, viz. — " Bambrough, May 21,
1681. Presented Thomas Anderson, of
Swinhoe, for playing on a bag-pipe btfore
a bridegroom on a Sunday, and not fru
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 following circumstances is also
staled 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
tit for the magnitude of its body, and
seemingly so closely plastered as to pre-
vent the admission of air. In 1809 (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 blessings of
freedom, made its way to a collection of
stones, and disappeared.
h. m.
iHflj/ 21.— Day breaks . . 33
Sun rises ... 4 6
— sets ... 7 54
Twilight ends . 1 1 27
Buttercups flower in most meadows
and fields.
Yellow bachelors' buttons flower a
double variety : blows gardens somewhat
earlier.
iHap 22.
In the Gentleman's Magazine for May,
1799, mention is made of the death of
James White, who, besides several trans-
lations, was author of some historical
novels, entitled, " Richard Coeur de
Lion," " Earl Strongbow," « John of
Gaunt," and several poetic pieces. He
r/as educated at the university of Dub-
lin, 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 employment from
the great to secret machinations. He,
310
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 22.
as erroneously supposed this influence
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, with 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 officers.
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
were 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 to 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 suffi-
cient for subsistence by his pen ; 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
May 22.— Day breaks , . 23
Sun rises ... 4 5
— sets . . . 7 55
Twilight ends . 11 37
Yellow day-lily flowers.
Ragged robin flowers, and continues
*/ll mowed down with the meadow liay.
A Country Ramble.
■_For the Year Book.]
Maidstone, 13lh April, 1830.
The morning was unusually brilliant,
and the air as soft as that of Mid-
summer. As I sat discussing my breal
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 ot
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 disconcerted at my
near approach, and, .sounding 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 conn'^ction which Goldsmith has in-
stituted between this silly bird and " the
village alehouse
with 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 \l 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
hostelrie, 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 ponderous chimney, in
311
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 22.
beauteous contrast with the undulated
r.injre of hills beyond it, dotted here and
there vvillj dark yews, and knots of dusky
furze, hallowed by distance, and seeming
lo 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 distinguishable,
until a wandering sunbeam glanced on
them, and they leaped forth spontaneously
into light and glory. At some 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 lo nothing but its
own portraiture
black and white.'
The prominent lights became, all at
once, powdered with gold ; and th*» 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, intermingling quick"—
— So quickly, indeed, that I have been
almost tempted, more than once, io ex-
change that powerful term, " sun-6urs^s,"
for the more equivocal compound, " sun-
ihotJ^ 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- liglit 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 seraph's 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
C;haucer'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 ins 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 sculpture, ornamenting
the outhousess of an adjoining mansion,
one of which represents a countenance
strangely distorted by the act of vehe-
mently devcuring a loaf, held between
the hands; and both, apparently, typify
the blessings of a well filled store-house.
The church, which I had now reached,
was that of All Saints, at Boxlei/, 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 aught
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 dtisty road-
way. After remaining here for a few
minutes, I emerged again into the plea-
sant sun-shine ; and, quitting the church-
yard, pursued my way up the hills beyond
it, till I reached a stile by the hedge-side,
on which I rested to take the annexed
sketch. —
312
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 22,
*.
And now I bethought myself of the
happy hours I had lingered away amidst
the deligtful 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 th?t
surrounded it ; and well I remembered
how the vastthoughts which then possessed
me had been put to flight by the discharge
of a pistol, and its strange echo, — a hari^h
rattling rush, so substantial that it mishi
almost be s^en, and, like nothing else but
the neezings of behemoth, or the " earnest
whisperings" of Polyphemus.
But other sounds awaited me ; for tht
first fierce notes of the nightingale broke
upon my ears as T lingered near the skirts
of a coppice, not far 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 thou affbrdest bad men such music
on earth." And who, amongst the mfeiiiy
that have treated of the " warbling wood-
land," did I not then bring to mind ? But,
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'* lav
313
THE YEAR BOOK. -MAY 22.
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
thitlier, 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'
" Gingcling in whistling wind as clcrc,
And eke as loud, as doth tlic chappcl 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
across 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 sun-
light, flushing that green eminence, and
the little lodge that crowned it, imparted
to them a glory, and an effect, infinitely
beyond the power of expression.
I had now reached a knoll of firs,
endeared to me by many associations;
for, 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:
Hero will wc stand, upon this grassy knoU,
O'crcanopicd by solemn firs, and sec
Up the wild twilight sky, the storm-clouds roll,
And whilst th' unquiet winds breathe heavily,
Drink in their freshness till the wasted soul
Leaps up in echo to thiir minstrelsy.
Like impotence, to whose embrace are given
Armfulsof mercies, and the strength of heaven.
From this spot I shaped my course
towards the little village of Bredliurst,
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 scroll-work 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, I 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, fearing 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 through a 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 over-
sight.
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 the morning
light.
Like love, that may not love, and yet, in rutb
Thrills at the plea of tenderness and truth.
314
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 22,
Each above each, in varied beauty planted.
At all limes lovely ; lovelier if seen
When the scant sprinkling of their leafage
granted.
Entrancing glympses of the sky, between—
And from their front, the narrow valley slanted
Down to the centre of a quiet green,
Fringed with dark knots of furze, which seem-
ed to lie
liike wingless clouds upon an ev'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 upon 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 corn, 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 b rd,
" 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 tliat old chantry's farther side, betrayed
The straggling flock that wandered in its shade.
The ruddy thorns wliich 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 childhood of its coming years ;
And there, at times, the wary robin went
To trill its simple vespers, full of feai-s, —
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-transparen
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
homeward, across the country, marvel-
lously delighted, and, 1 hope, made wiser
by my day's adventure.
D. A.
BtjRNs's Snuff Box.
[For the Year Book.]
Mr. Bacon, an innkeeper at a celebrated
posting house called Brownhill, 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 two-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, " Robert Burns, Officer
of the Excise." Scarcely had he uttered
the words of the inscription when shilling
after shilling was rapidly and confusedly
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. Burns,
Officer
OF
The Excise.'
i was present at the sale, and amongst
315
THE YEAK BOOK.— MAY 23, 24, 25.
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.
The Season.
There are now delightful days — invit-
ing walks in green lanes and meadows,
and into the woodlands. Before the full
gloiy 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 known 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,
Ueneath umbrellas, shunning showers ; —
These, from the bark-men's crushing treads.
Oft perish iu their blooming beds.
Stripp'd of its boughs and baik, in white
The trunk shines in the mellow light
Ik'neath the green surviving trees.
That wave above it in the breeze.
And, waking whispers, slowly bend,
As if they mourned their fallen friend.
Clure.
May 23. No ueal Night, during the
remainder of the month.
h. m.
Sun rises .... 4 3
— sets .... 7 57
Broom flowers. This, and gorse, give
the cooimons and wastes the beautiful
yellow wiiich is succeeded in July by
the purple heath.
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 ova! raczzotinto,
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. Tiiough 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,
univertity, and the city, to vouch for his
cures, in common wiili the " good peo-
] le" 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, wislicd to be as dark as his bro-
ther qiuck, Taylor's, coach horses, five of
which were blind, because Taylor had ex-
ercised his skill upon animals that could
not comj>lain. 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 Hannes, both
knighted, show
That none their honors shall to merit owe.
That popish doctrine is exploded quite.
Or Ralph 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
— se's .... 7 58
Yellow water avens in full flower
Brachtcate poppy flowers.
Creeping crowsfoot flowers abundantly.
i«ai) 25.
Country Scenery.
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 soclls
Which rural superstition tells.
They pull the little blossom threads
* Of Mountague.
316
THE YEAR BOOK. -MAY 26. 27.
Prom out thv Anot weed'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 said, 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 arc 'nealh the bushes met ;
The girls are glad with hopes of play,
And harp upon the holiday ; —
A high blue bird is seen to swim
Along tlie 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 afloaV.,
With ** wet my foot " — their yearly note —
So fancy doth the sound explain.
And oft it proves a sign of rain !
Clare.
Give me to walk on mountains bare,
Give me to breathe the gpen 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 IIowitt
h. m.
May 25. Sun rises .... 4 1
— sets . . . 7 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.
m^vt 26.
. To Day—
A Lesson for Every Day —
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.
h. m.
May 26. Sun rises ,,..40
— sets sets ... 8
Daisies are still numerous, and dot the
fields.
Crowsfoot of all kinds abundant.
Dandelions nearly out of flower.
ifWai? 27.
Let Mammon's sons with visage lean,
Restless and vigilant and keen,
Whose thought is but to buy and sell.
In the hot toiling city dwell.
" The day itself (in my opinion) seems
of more length and 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 more 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 dawning light,
at the same instant of time, breaks ovei
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 be 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."*
h. m
May 27. Sun rl«?e3 .... 3 59
— sets .... 8 1
Red and yellow bachelors' buttons in full
flower.
Monks hood flowers. Its full blue
spike is conspicuous all the summer.
• Guevcra, by "Vaughan, 1651.
3L'
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 28, 29.
mat} 28.
Bidding to a Wedding.
28lhMay, 1797.— *•' Bell's Weekly Mes-
senger" of this date contained the follow*
;ng advertisement : —
"Mai/ no miscarriage prevent my marriage.*'
" Matthew Dawson, 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. lleid 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 Briscoe, and Betty
Porthouse, give, each of them, a pound
of butter. The advertiser will provide
every thing else for so festive an occasion.
" And he hereby gives notice,
"To ALL Young Women desirous of
changing their condition, th?t he is at pre-
sent disengaged; and advises them to
consider, that altho' there be luck in
leisure, yet, in this case delays are dan-
gerous ; for, with him, he is determined it
shall be first come first served.
" So come along lasses who wish to be mar-
ried,
Matt. DavX^^SON is vex'd that so long he has
tarried."
The preceding invitation is stated to
be an extract from the " Cumberland
Packet."
H. B.
h, m.
May 28. Sun rises .... 8 57
— sets .... 8 3
Long-spiked wolfsbane flowers, and
continues till August.
Midsummer daisy flowers, but not in
full luxuriance tilljune.
The bugle begins to decline.
mav! 29.
King Charles II., Restoration.
Mr. Evelyn says, that in 1686 the first
year of the reign of James II., and con-
sequently the first year after the death of
Charles II., there was no sermon on this
anniversary of his Restoration, " as tlure
had usually been."
The Royal Oak.
In the sign or picture representing
Charles II., in the Royal Oak, escaping
the vigilance of his pursuers, there are
usually some eironeous particularities.
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 logic, and, I
believe, may hold good in most other
sciences, that " omne majus continet in
se minus," that " every thing larger can
hold any tiling that is less," but I own I
never heard the contrary advanced or de-
fended with any plausible arguments, viz.
" that every little thing can hold one
larger." I therefore humbly propose
that there should at least be an edge of
foliage round the outskirts of the said wig;
and that its curls should not exceed in
number the leaves of the tree. There is
also another practice almost equally pre-
valent, of which I am sceptic enough to
doubt 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.
•Pictoribus atque poetis
Quidlibet audendi semper fait «qua potestas.
Painters and Poets our indulgence claim.
Their daring equal, and their art the same.
And this may be reckoned a very allow-
able poetical licence ; inasmuch as i
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 depicted
on the fore ground, cantering along very
composedly 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 I am about to describe, or
• The Microcosn:.
318
rPIE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 29, 30.
how long it has existed, I am unable to
give any information, and, as it is more
than a dozen years since I left Exeter, I
am likewise ignorant whether it is dfs-
continued or not. It is asserted and
believed by many of the Exonians, that
the statutes "made and provided" take
no cognizance of any misdemeanors and
breaches of the pence, 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-loving 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 liap-
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 stoutest
and most resolute remain to guard the
stations while the rest are detached, and
busily employed in collecting mud, stonesl
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-
ciency is supplied by parties, who fetch
it from various parts, in all kinds of ves-
sels, and, when they can get nothing better,
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 ifl-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 each bay
one of the party belonging to it is stationed
to 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 without a
thorough drenching ; but if a trifle, how-
ever small, is bestowed, the donor is
allowed safe conduct, and 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 the
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 thus taught
that, if there is no law upon " Lawless
Day," there is law the next day.
Upon " Lawless Day" the lawless rab-
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 the
mean time their vacant places in the streets
are eagerly taken possession of by ragged
children, who imitate the boisterous folly
of their elders.
J S S — LLM — N.
March, 1Q3\.
h. m.
May 29. Sun rises . . . . 3 5G
— sets . . ..84
Oak Apple day. 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 IT
in the oak.
Perennial flax flowers.
On this day, which is the anniversary
of the cruel execution of the maid of
Orleans in 1431, 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-
319
THE YEAR BOOK.— MAY 31.
rears that the nieces of this heroic female
nad been honored with the singular pri
vilege of transmitting nobility.
h. in.
Majf 30. Sun rises .... 3 55
sets . ... 8 5
Shady slopes are still blue with hae
bol!s. and meadows yellow with butter
cups
ifHai? 31.
31 May, 1723, died William Baxter, a
native of Shropshire, and nephew of the
celebrated nonconformist, Richard Baxter.
lie entered upon life unpromisingly : his
ediuation had been wholly neglected ; he
could not even read when eighteen years
of a?e, nor understand any one language
but 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 LatinffiLingua; Commentariolus ;"and
edited " Anacreon," with notes, printf d
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 " Archajologia," con-
tain some of his communications. He
had an accurate knowledge of the Britisli
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.
Tutct.
May 31.
h. tn.
Sun rises , ... 3 54
— sets .... 8 6
Yellow lily flowers in the latter davs of
this month.
SPRING.
The Progress of a Tiiunder-Storm.
See ye the signals of his march ? — the flash
Wide-streaming round ? The thunder of his voice
Hear ye? — Jehovah's thunder? — the dread peel
Hear ye, that rends the concave?
Lord I God supreme !
Compassionate nnd kind !
Prais'd be thy glorious name !
Prais'd and ador'd 1
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 ? — Jehovah calls ;
Jehovah 1—and the smitten forest smokes.
But not our cot—
Our heavenly Father bade
Th' o'erwhelming power
^ass o'er our cot, and spare it
Klopstock, by Good.
320
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE.
JUNE.
The mowers now bend o'er the bearded grass —
The ploughman sweats along the fallow vales —
The Shepherd's leisure hours are over now,
No more he loiters 'neath the 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.
Clake's Shepherd's Calendar.
Vol. IV.
321
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE.
SPRING.
Spring, the year's youth, fair mother of new tlower.1,
New leaves, new loves, drawn by the winged hours,
Thou art relurn'd ; — but the felicity
Thou brought'st me last is not return'd with tiice ;
Thou art returned, but nought returns with thee,
Save my lost joys — regretful memory —
Tliou art tlie 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, Ity Sir 11. Famkawe.
June — it is june What yearnings for descriptive writers and poets call it " the
the enjoyment of pure air and sunshine, Mai/." — 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 Muj/ 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 tc
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 fealher'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 ;
Then from her burnisht gate the goodly glittering ?ast
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 lamenting 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 modwleth her tunes so admirably rare,
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 wreii|
The yellow-pate ; which, though she hurt the blooming treo
Yet scarce hath any bird a finer pipe than $he.
And of these chanting fowls, the goldfinch not behind.
That hath so many sorts descending from her kind,
322
THE YEAE 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.
Delights of the Countuy.
-This privilege, above others, nrakes
Ihe countryman happy, that he hath
always something at hand which is both
flseful 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 fully express
the pleasures and happiness of the country
life, with 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
Vagrant, dewy, 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 with 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, 16ri,
The Country Life.
Sweet country life, to such unknown.
Whose lives are others, not their own '.
But serving courts and cities, be
Less happy, less enjoying ihee.
Thou never ploughit the ocean's ' xm
To seek and bring rough pepper ^ome j
Nor to the eastern Ind dost rove.
To bring from thence the scorched «love ;
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
AH 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' extent
Of land makes life, but sweet content.
When now the cock, the ploughman's horn,
Calls for the lily-wristed morn.
Then to thy corn-fiplds thou 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 flower ;
And smell'st the breath of great-eyed kino.
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, thoii go'st to view thy flocks
Of sheep, safe from the wolf and fox ;
And find'st their bellies there as full
Of short sweet grass, a» backs with wool J
And leavs't them, as they feed and fill ;
A shepherd piping on the hill.
For sports, for pageantry, and plays.
Thou hast thy eves and holy-days j
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 quintels, here thou Lasr,
THE YEA.R BOOK.- JUNE.
Thy May-poles, too, with garland's graced j
Thy morris-dancc, ihy Whitsun ale.
Thy fhearing feast, which never fail ;
Thy harvest-home, thy wassail-bowi.
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 for it.
To these thou hast thy time to go.
And trace the hare in the treacherous snow .
Thy witty wiles to draw, and get
The lark into the trammel net ;
ThoQ 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' affright
Sweet sleep, that mzJtes 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 forests
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 vernon ingress smiled a bless-
ing, when she sent the melodious harmony
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 rivulets, softened by the gentle
breathings of Zephyrus, seemed tacitly to
express a secret, whispering, silent praise.*
• Fraack'a Xorthcrn Memoirs, 1658.
VECtTABLE Garden Directory
Sow
Cucumbers, in the first week, if not
sown last month, and thin out those which
were sovvn, 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 pumkin.
Peas, Prussian blue ; Knighl's mar-
rowfats, early frame, and charlton, for
late crops.
Beans, tlie white blossom, for the
latest crop.
Kidney-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, carrot;
and onions, for drawing young; tuinipo,
the white, yellow Dutch, and Swedisn,
for the autumnal and winter crops.
In the fourth we-ak, endive, for a main
supply.
Flant
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
Almt, 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.
324
THE YEAR BOOK. -JUNE 1.
A Word in June for the Dumb
CUEATION.
If you keep clogs, let them have free
access to water, and, if practicable, take
them out occasionally in'.o 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 m their
cages to a hot sun : it is a cruel and fatal
mistake. Birds unconfined seek the sheltei
m sultry weather. If you do expose
them out of doors, cover the top of their
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 vi^eather, 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, 182G.
Invitatio:
Come ye, come ye, to the green, green wood
Loudly the blackbird is singing.
The squirrel is feasting on blossom and bud.
And 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.
^nnt 1.
The Anniversary
Of Lord Howe's victory over the French
deet in 1794 —
Also, of the great sea-fight m 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 off". But,
Lord! to see how the poor fellows kissed
their wives and sweethearts in that simpie
manner at their going off, and shouted,
325
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 1.
and let off their guns, was strange snort.
3d. [Further news]— 4lh. 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 figlit, 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 brouglit me of a
couple of men come to speak wiih 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 then
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 Penii, 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 nave 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. II. 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 tliat brought us to it. By
and by comes Mr. VVayth ; 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 Dutch,
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 himself condemn
the conduct from beginnmg to end. We
are endeavouring to raise money by bor-
rowing it of the city, but I do not think
the city will lend a farthing. There is
nothing but discontent among the oflicers.
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 trie
fight, it was against his reason, and the rea-
sons of most sober men there, to begin the
fight then; the win^ 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 SirW. Coventry
and went with him into his coach. Then
326
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 1.
happened this extraordinary case, one of
ihe most romantic that ever I heard of in
my hfe. About 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 heis, 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
cook 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 into .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 mightily
insult of their victory, and tliey 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, with 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 m sconduct
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 S'heerness, 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
us."
Why do I my brain
Perplex with the dull polices of Spain,
Or quick designs of France ! Why not repair
To the pure innocence o' th* country air,
And, neighbour thee, dear friend ] who so
do'st give
Thy thoughts to wortli and virtue, that to live
Blest is to trace thy ways. There might not we
Arm against passion with philosophy j
And by the aid of leisure, so control
Whate'cr is earth in us, to grow all soul ?
Knowledge doth ignorance engender, when
We study mysteries of other men.
And foreign plots. Do but iu thy own shade
(Thy head upon some flow'ry pillow laid.
Kind Nature's housewifery), contemplate all
His stratagems, who labours to enthrall
The world to his great master, and you'll find
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.
Til* unbusied only wise : for no respect
Endangers them to error ; they aft'cct
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 value 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
wo are
And whither we are bound. Time ne'er
forgot
His journey, though his steps we numbcr'd
not.
W. Hahington, 1635
h. m.
June 1. Sun rises .... 3 53
— sets .... 8 7
%* All Twilight— no real Night —
during the whole of this month.
Blue-bottle, and Buff-bottle flower.
Variegated flower de luce, and Yellow
flag, flower.
lioses begin to blow in succession.
327
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 1.
GERMAN WATCH SONGS.
The Minnesingers, or German Trou-
budours, were fond of a species of ballad
called "wachterlieder" or watchsongs,
many of which possess great spriglitliness
and beauty of description. The engrav-
ing, from an illumination in tlie Manesse
MS., is to represent " Her Kristan von
Hamle," Christian of Hamle, a minne-
singer who flourished about the middle
of the thirteenth ceniury. This design
would seem a fit illustration for a watch-
song. The watchsongs generally begin
"with a parley between the sentinel or
watch of the castle, and the love-strickei!
knight who seeks a stolen interview with
his lady. The parties linger in taking
leave; tht 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-
Uquities;" it would be difficult for any
one to execute a better. — There are pieces
328
THE YEAE BOOK.— JUJ^^E 1.
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 Gorres ;
but he has neither inentioned the author's
name, nor the source whence he took it.
Watciisoivg.
The sun is gone down.
And the moon upwards springeth,
The night creepeth onward,
'I'he nightingale singeth.
To himself said a watchman,
**■ fs any knight waiting
In pain for his lady,
'i'o give her his greeting ?
Now then for their meeting."
Hi> words heard a knight
In the garden while roaming,
" Ah ! watchmiin," ho said,
** Is the daylight fast coming.
And may I not see her,
And wilt thou not aid me ?"
*' 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 her —
" Rise, lady ! prepare !
New tidings I bring thee.
And strange to thine cae;
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 long st?.ying.
And weep his delaying."
Nay, lady ! yet trust mo.
No falsehood is there."
Then up sprang that lady
And braided her hair.
And donn'd her white garment.
Her purest of white ;
And, her heart with joy trembling,
She rush'd to the sight
Of her own faithful knight.
The following is another and the best
specimen perhaps that is ktiown of watch-
songs; the original has been printed in
" Wunderhorn," an interesting, but very
inaccurate, collection 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 dame.
Take heed, tlie sun will soon appear ;
Then fly, ye knights, your ladies dear.
Fly ere the daylight dawn.
" Brightly gleams the firmament.
In silvery splendor gay,
Rejoicing that the night is spent
The lark salutes the day :
Then fly, ye lovers, and be gone '
Take leave before the night is done.
And jealous eyes appear."
That watchman's call did wound my heart.
And banish'd 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 '
VVai-n not my love, till o'er the mead
The m.orning 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
The dew-drops glitter gay ;
Then quickly bid thy leman 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 view'd
In tears my lady's face :
She gave me many a token good.
And many a soft embrace.
Our parting bitterly we mourn'd ;
The hearts which erst with rapture burn
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 vie-*^
Her ruby ring, and blithely sing,
" Lady, I fight for thee."
Lai/s of the MinnesitufCTS,
329
THE YEAR BOOK.-JUNE 2.
Sunt 2.
Pett, the Miser.
On the 2n(l of June, 1803, died Tho-
mas Pelt, {( native of Warwickshire. At
ten years old he came to London with a
solitary shilling in his pocket. As he
had neither friends nor relations in the
capital, he was indebted to the humanity
of an old woman, who sold pies, for a
morsel of bread, till he could procure
himself u 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 manneri
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 tiie second floor, with
one window, which occasionally admitted
a straggling sunbeam. Every article of
his dress was second-hand, nor was he
choice in the color or quality : he jocosely
observed, when twitted on his garb, that,
according to Solomon, there vk-as nothing
new under the sun ; that color was a mere
matter of fancy ; and that the best was
that which stuck longest to its integrity.
On washing, he used to say a man did
not deserve a shirt that would not wash
it himself; and that the only fault he had
to find with Lord North was the duty he
imposed on soap. One expense, 'how-
ever, lay heavy on his mind, and robbed
him of many a night's sleep; this was,
shaving : he often lamented that he had
not learned to shave himself; but he de-
rived consolation from hoping that beards
would one day be in fashion, and the
Bond-street loungers be driven to wear
anificidl 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 lialf 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 teas rained.
They've rais'd the price of table drinV ;
What is the reason, do yo think ?
The tax on malt, the cause I hear ;
But what has malt to do wiih tabic 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 belter
of his 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 migiit drink in
every thing that was said with thirity 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 of
Old England, which he called the staple
commodity of life. He once purchased
a pint 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
tempted, in some unlucky moment, to
make too free with it.
Pett's pulse, for the last twenty years
330
TnE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE ?>.
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 old age.
For forty-two years he lived in Clare
Market as journeyman butcher; and
odged 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 a 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 properly 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
ne wanted to bargain for a coffin.
The following inventory of Pett's goods
and chattels was taken after his death.
An aid 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 bedst<^ad instead of a bed.
A toothless comb.
An almanack out of all date.
A ricketty chair.
A leafless table.
A looking-glass that survived the power
of reflection.
A leathern bag with a captive guinea.*
June 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.
Particolored flag, and most of the Ins
tribe, now come into blow.
Snnt 3.
The Nightingale in 1831.
27th April, 1831.
Friend Hone,
As you are, like me, fond of the song
of Philomel, and may have as little leisure
to go far to hear it, 1 give you notice that
the nightingale was heard this year on the
17th of March, at Dartford, and may now
be heard in full song near London.
On Monday morning, at day-break, I
walked in company with a catcher (!)
from 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 noxu
laired, and not worth catching, so the
lovers of song may have a treat.
There is one at the end of the College,
Blackheath Corner, 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 £J ill, 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.
• \Mlson's Polyamhea, ii. 210
*Twas summer, — 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 fai
The wide green meadow o'er ;
Where cool and clear the fountain play'd.
There strayed I in that hour.
331
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 4.
Roatuicg on, tne nighiingalo
Sang twecUy in my ear ;
And, by the greenwood's shady side,
A dream cainc to ino there ;
Fast by the fountain, where bright fiowcrs
Of sparkling hue wc see,
Close sheltered from the summer lieat.
That vision came to me.
All care was banished, and repose
Came o'er my wearied breast ;
And kingdoms seemed to wait on mc.
For 1 wa* with the blest.
Yet, while it seemed as if away
My spirit soared on high,
And in the boundless joys of heaven
Was MTapt 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.— VoGELWF.lDE.
1.. 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
S^xnt 4.
Birth Dav of King George 111.
Edinburgh Celebration.
From the time of ilie 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 illness 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. Sx months before that day, they
had begun to save as many of their
" Saturday's half-pence" as could pos-
sibly be spared from presei.t necessities;
ani;enorth
he was met by Mr. Creswell, at tlie head
of four thousand horse, and the same
number of persons on foot, wearint; white
knots edged with gold, and leaves of
gilt laurel in their hats. The hedges, for
sevetal miles, were dresse^l with garlands
of flowers, and the steeples covered with
flags. In this manner he passed through
Warwick, Birmingham, Bridgenorth,Lud.
low, and Siirewsbury, with a cavalcade
better suited to a prince than a priest, on
))is 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 £lOO,
and upwards of 40,000 copies were sold
He had also interest enough witli 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, except his quarrels
with his parishioners, and suspicions of
his having been engaged in Alterbury's
plot. A considerable estate at Callow,
in Derbyshire, was left to him by his
kinsman, George Sacheverell, Esq. By
his will he bequeathed to bishop Atter-
bury, then in exile, and who was suppos-
ed ;o 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 tlie
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. NichoU IB OftM. Mag. 1779. Noble.
Will SiiiprEM
William Shippen, Esq., the great leadet
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
liramber, 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 actmg 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 oifer of £l000, 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 corresponding
with the Stuarts, and was himself de-
tected in a similar offence. The postman,
by accident or design, delivered a lettet
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; Walpole
observed, " Sir, I cannot, knowing your
political sentiments, ask you to vote with
the administration; all I request is, that
you would 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.
340
THE YEAR BOOK.-JUNE 6.
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
Home."
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-3treet_, where he was surround-
ed by persons of rank^ learning^ and
talent. His conversation was dignified^
and replete witli 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 with 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 Monta3.gne.
He was a poetical as well as a prose
politician. Besides several other tracts,
he wrote '^'^ Faction Displayed" 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. Sheffield,
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 declin'd.
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, who lost 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-IIall, 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 anotlier to general Arnold,
memorable for his defection from the
cause he had engaged to serve, and deser-
tion from the army he commanded.*
h. m.
June 5, Sun rises .... 3 50
— sets .... 8 10
Hedge-roses flower abundarutly — for ex-
ample, the Scotch rose, white Dog rose,
common Dog rose, apple bearing rose,
downy leaved rose, &c.
Bum 0.
Old Booksellers, &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.
1776; Ciceronis Opera, 10 vols. 4to. 1784;
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.
341
THE YEAR BOOK.-JUNE 6.
Pictures," from his constant li iMt of
offering those articles at tie ditfereiit
chainhers. lie established a very cajntal
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, lie 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 Church, at the age of seventy-
eight, M. \len6 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 mucli
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
Kly, 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 Logaritiims." 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 week, in the news-
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
away with their journals to entice oeople
* Geats. Mag.
to rt^a.. t.u' news. One book, however.
jH-nts iiifyWiW exemplify the fact: "A New
History of Enghuul — Mancliesttr, printed
by Joseph Harrop, opposilf tlie I'Achango,
1 76 i." At the end of this octavo volume,
which consists of 778 pages, is tlie fol-
lowing address : —
"To the PUBLIC.
"The History of England being now
brought down to that period which was
at first proposed, tlie 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 Sub-
scription to his paper, which he will spare
neither pains nor assiduity to render
worthy their perusal.
Jos. IIarrop."
From booksellers we have digressed 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-
Sv^uare, London, overwhelmed with age,
infirmities, and poverty — a character not
unknown in the regions 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 SVhims." 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," 8vo. There is a small poem by him
in Mr. NichoUs'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 small
snuff and tobacco shop, by the collecting
342
THE YEAR BOOK,— JUNE 6.
of paragraphs for the Public Advertiser,
atid by officiating occasionally as an
amanuensis.
Poor Egel sham 1 Is there nothing else
about Egelsham ? No. But the men-
tion of him recalls a personage with a
name something like Egelsham's —
Egglesjield.
Speed, the chronicler, in his account 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
eylet-holes, and, at every eylet, the needle
left 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 Feast of theCircumcision : — The bursar
gives to every member a needle and thread,
in remembrance of the founder, whose
name being Egglesjield 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
of Dutch extraction, daughter to the earl
of Hainault and Holland. Mr. Green
reasonably conjectures, that prince Henry
having been a student in that 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 trouble
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
sword.*
especially where you may daily observe,
that a fever doth 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 hath 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 ihe 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, though 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. Charhton,
1655.
Contentment.
Though I have nothing here that may
give me true content, yet I will learne to
be truely contented here with what I have —
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, ii
1 have as much as I desire. — A. Warwick.
Dress.
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.
h. m.
Juyie 6. Sun rises .... 3 49
sets .... 8 11
Foxglove begins to flower.
Sophora flowers.
INIoss rose, musk rose, and cabbage
rose flower.
343
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 6.
GOLDEN LION AT HAAULEM.
Tlie cards of 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. One of these
engraved cards imports, by its inscrip-
tion, that " F. D. Godthart keeps the
Hotel of the Golden Lion, at Haarlem,
Zylstraat, W. 5. No. 752." It bears the re-
presentation inserted above, and it is pre-
served in this manner to convey an idea
of the old gabie-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-
niakcr'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
unr 9.
After the riding of the Lanark Marches
yesterday, this day may be dedicated to
an acquaintance with a few distinguished
Scottisli personages —
Old Lords of Session.
In the very interesting "Traditions of
Edinburgh by Mr. Chambers," wliich
largely assist the historian, and illustrate
.the manners of by-gone days, there are
very curious anecdotes of remarkable oer-
sons and incidents. —
Lord Covington (Alexander Lockiiart,
esq.), was appointed to the bencli in
1774 and died in 1782. He was one of
the ablest lawyers of his time. Mr.
Lockhart and Mr. Fergusson (after-
wards Lord Pitfour) 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, offermg their
services, were gladly accepted as counsel
by the unfortunate persons whose trials
were yet to happen. These gentlemen
arranged with each other that Lockhart
should examine evidence, while Fergusson
• From an Edinlmrgh Newspaper. 1827.
pleaded and addressed the Jury ; — Each
exerted his abilities in his respective
duties with the greatest solicitude, but
with very litlle effect. The jurors of Car-
lisle had been so friglitened by the Higli-
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 litlle 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 that
he wore " Covington's Gown."
Lord Pitfour, who died in 1777, owed
his elevation to the bench in 1764 to the
late Earl Mansfield, whose official duty
it was to inform his majesty of the va-
cancy, and who bad influence in supply-
ing it. The news of the vacancy reached
Lord Mansfield, while attending a levee
at Sf. 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 Duke of Argyll, whom, strange
to say, he caused to testify to the loyalty
of ilie Jacobite barrister, by putting the
question to him in so direct and confident
a manner that his grace, out of polite-
350
THE YEAK BOOK.— JUNE 9.
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 whiggisli
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
1799. He once embroiled himself in a
law-plea respecting a horse which be-
longed to himself. Ilia lordship had
committed the animai, when sick, to the
charge of a farrier, with 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 morning, Lord Monboddo
raised a prosecution for its value, and ac-
tually pleaded his own rause 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 sat 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 HI.,
on understanding this, and being told that
two dragoon officers had just come up
from Scotland in a post-chaise, remarked
it was strange that one of his law-judges
should visit him on horseback, while his
dragoons adopted the more civilian-like
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 his lordship, " 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 hajjpened to be born in his
house, he watched at the chamber-dooi,
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 1735. 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, wheie
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 his 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 while 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 bis Lordship up
561
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 9.
the slreet 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 Ilailes (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 domesiics, 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 Ilailes'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
end— 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."
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
his clothes warm till the morning.
The Led President Dundas (Roburl
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 readf two of
them cannot write ; and the other two can
neither read nor write T' The eccentric
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-fasliioned chronometer
ominously in the faces of his Brethren,
when their " ideas upon the subject" be-
gan to get vague and windy.
Hiiir Glasses m Coffins.
A writer in the Gentleman's Magazine,
1746, says, "in June, 1718, as I 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
352
THE YEAR BOOK.- -JUNE 9.
VICARAGE HOUSE, THAME, OXFORDSHIRE.
It will appear from the annexed com-
jnunication, 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.]
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 skirmishes he witnessed. A part of
his narrative vividly portrays the confu-
sion. He says, "on the 27th of January,
1644, Colonel Thomas Blagge, governor
of Wallingford Castle, roving about the
country very early, with a troop of stout
horsemen, consisting of seventy or eigl ty
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
afterwards came m to their assistance; at
which time he himself, with his stout cap-
tain Walter Cthey two only), fought against
a great many of the rebels for a longtime
together, in which encounter the brave
colonel behaved himself as manfully with
his sword as ever man did, slashing and
beatmg 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 VV'al-
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
Tiien 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 s'.one's cast from theii
house (being the only house on that road
Vol. IV.
353
2 A
THE YEAK BOOK.— JUNE 10.
before vou come into Tliame), and, at the
head of them, was Dlagge, 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
famrly, 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 rnler
(a lusty man), in A. Wood's sight.
Colonel CraflTord, 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 I'riest-end, leading
towards llycote.''
After relating the particulars of another
skirmish, A. Wood says, "This alarm and
onset were made by the cavaliers from
Oxon, about break of day on Sunday,
September 7, before any of the rebels
were stirring : but, by the alarm takeri
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 fougiit
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."
Often in my walks past the vicarage,
and 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 tiie 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,
the shelving bank, and, indeed, all the
immediate neighbourhood of the place,
having experienced but little change since
those eventful and unhappy tinr^.es which
the interesting historian so minutely de-
scribes.
The antiquary s pen lias given a sort
of evcrtastingnchs to the event : and 1
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 by
an unskilful hand, will be found to be
tolerably correct in all its features.
I am, &c.
J. K.
Thame, April 1831.
Snne lo.
lOth of June, 1735, Thomas Ilearne,
the antiquary, died at Edmund Hall,
Oxon, at the age of 57. He was born at
l.ittlefield Green, in the parish of White
W^altham, 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, Esq.
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 Waliham. Ilearne's im-
provement was rapid ; and, on the recom-
mendation of the learned INIr. 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
}ears 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
354
THE YEAE BOOK.— JUNE 11.
aud 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,
lie 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 Wi-kford,
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. Berkle"S ""'ho was as great a curi-
osity as even fiearne himself. She says,
'' Of all the lumber-headed, stuoid-looking
beine;s, he had the most stupia appearance,
not only in his countenance (generally
the index of t'ne mind) but in his bvpi-v
limb. No neck, his head loolcing as it he
\Tas 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 evi'^.ently seen in a print which
my mother had of him. In short, I have
wondered tijiat such a looking being should
have oeen admitted (as a servant) into a
genteel family."
h, m.
3 47
8 13
June 10. Sun rises .
— sets . .
Dou^:)tful poppy flowers.
^xmt 11.
St. Barnabas Day.
To the particulars under this day in the
Everij-Day Book, may be added, on the
authority of Mr. Brand, who was minister
of the parish of St. Mary at Hill, London,
the following charges in the churchwar-
den's accounts of that parish, 17 and 19
Edward IV.
" For Rose-garlondis and Woodrove-
garlondis, on St. Barnebes' Daye, xjr/."
And, under the year 1486 ;
" Item, for two doss' di Bosce-garlandi
for prestes and clerks on Saynt Barnabe
daye, js. \d.^'
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 biing made up
into garlands or bundles, and hanging up
in houses in the heat of summer, doth
very well attemper the aire, coole 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 Cordiulis, and Stellaria ;
in English, Woodrooffe, Woodrowe, and
Woodrowell. It is reported to be put
into wine, to make a man merry, and to
be good for the heart and liver."
On thellthof 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 forth v/ith 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 reign. The king was advanced
• Chambers's Traditions of Edinburgh, i. 44.
355
THE YEAli BOOK.— JUNE 19.
in years, and seldom mixed with his sub-
jects; and the act which precluded the
granting of honors to foreigners pre-
vented many German gentlemen from
fisiting England. There was no queen
in England, and the ladies who accom-
panied his Majesty were neither by birth,
f>ropriety of conduct, age, nor beauty, qua-
ified to make any impression on prevail-
ing modes. The peace with France caused
more intercourse between the two coun-
tries tlian had subsisted for many years ;
and a slight difference was introduced in
the shape of t!ie clothing, but so little as
to be scarcely worth notice. Dr. John
Harris published, in 1715, an elaborate
*' 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-
Itiure cloak, which at that time displaced
the surtout ; and which was called the
roquclaure from being dedicated to the
Duke of Roquelaure, whose cloak and
tule spread by this means throughout
France and Britain. Dr. Harris says, the
coat was not the invention of the French,
hut 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
duo proportion observed by nature : in
va.'n was it allowed that amongst un-
clothed Africans a ciooked woman was
as great a rarity as a straight European
lady. Mademoiselle Pauline, 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
Uttle understood, and as litile regarded —
* No longer shall the boddice, aptly lat^d
* From the full bosom to the slender waist^
* That air and harmony of shape exprcsfi^
* 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.*
Junt
h. m.
3 46
8 14
^ 1. Sun rises .
— sets
Garden poppy flowers.
Midsummer daisy already flowers in
some meadows.
Scarlet lychnis sometimes flowers about
this day
^nnt 12.
Farewell Aruna ! — " Still," in Fancy's car.
As in the evening wind, thy murmers swell,
Th' enthusiast of the lyre, who wandcr'd here.
Seems yet to strike liis visionary shell,
Of power to call forth Pity's tendcrost tear.
Or wake wild Frenzy from Iit hideous ceil 1
Charlotte Smith.
On the 12th of June, 1759, died, ir
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 Collins's
affairs, and had, likewise, a commission
to supply the Collins'.* with small sums
• Noble.
35G
THE YEAE BOOK. -JUNE 12.
Off 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 h€
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 Mr. Manby, a
bookseller on Ludgate Hill, to furnish
him with some lives for the Biographia
Britannica, which Manby was then pub-
lishing, lie 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 and
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 ihe death of Colonel Mar-
tyn, who left what fortune he died pos-
sessed of to him and his two sisters. I
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 afterwards to Bath,
in hopes his health might be 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 a
deplorable slate 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 martyrs
to the lyre, has thrown overall his images
and his thoughts a tenderness df 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
in 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 late
357
THE YEAR BOOK.-JTJNE 12.
despair; its wild gaiety, and in settled
phrenzy ; but the poet himself? Yet Col-
lius has left beJiind 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 they were not distinctly Persian,
he gave the more general title of " Ori-
ental •" yet the passage of Hassan, in the
desert, is n.ore 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 1 —
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 unift)rmity 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 them 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 difficulty
of a young writer, without connections,
obtaining the public ear ; and the languor
of the poetical connoisseurs, which some-
times sufTers 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, ihat 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 soul alive to taste, were
ever leaning to the impulse of Nature and
study — and thus he projected a " History
of the Revwal 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."
Colhns 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, hui 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
ihe 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 1
With eyes so fair —
Whispering promised pleasure.
And bade the lovely scenes at distance ht.:.;
And Hope, enchanted, smil'd, and wavM her
golden hair !
What was the true life of Collins, separ-
ated from its adventitious circumstances ?
H 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 gay
and lively Collins, like one of his own
enchanted beings, as surely relapsed into
his natural shape. To the perpetual re-
358
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 12.
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 hide himself in
the arms of a sister.— The cloud had long
been gathering over his convulsed intel-
lect ; and the fortune he acquired on the
death of his uncle served only for personal
indulgences which rather accelerated bis
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 cho:?en — 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 faith to strong poetic powers,
And, in reviving Reason's lucid hours.
Sought on one book his troubled mind to r^st.
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 the 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
Collins'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, rovmg days and nights together,
loving their
Dim religious light.
And, whpn the choristers chauuted their
anthem, the listening 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 most affecting
in so solemn a place; their friend, their
kinsman, and their poet, was before them,
an awful image of human misery and
ruined genius ! "*
The wortiiy historian of "English
Poetry,' 'fu:ther 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 cathedral 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 ;
Whatever dark aerial power,
Commission'd, haunts the gloomy towci.
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 in his per-
• Calamities of Authors.
359
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 12.
lonal fate bears a stronj^ resemblance to the
celebrateil Tasso, il is greatly to be re-
gretted that the reliques are so few. I
musf particularly lament the loss of tlie
ode, entitled 'The Bell of Arragon/ whieU
from the four lines preserved in this paper
seems to have been written wiih the poet's
wonted power of imagination, and to have
closed in a manner strikingly moral and
pathetic. I rather wonder lliat 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
•word and pen was superior to all men."
Tasso and his Sister.
she sat where, on each wind that sighed.
The citron's breath went by.
While the deep gold of eventide
Bum'd in ih' Italian sky.
Her bower was one where day-light's close
Full oft sweet laughter found.
As thence the voice of chillon.
June 18, 1683, Mr. Evelyn says, " ^
was present, and saw and h"iard 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 his majesty [James II.], in
the presence chamber. My 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 oh 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 hi»
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, aftej' Ihei/ had dined
and been treated by the king. Divers ol
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
judg2s, and rising men, judged it other-
wise."
h. m,
June, iS. Sun rises ... 3 43
— sets ... 8 17
Candytuft, white and purple, in flower,
and continues blowing till the end of sum-
mer.
Sweet Williams flower and continue
blowing till August.
3fuiie 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 Southwaik about io41.
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."
June 19. Sun rises .
— sets
Rampion flowers.
Love-in-a-mist flowers.
h. m.
3 43
8 17
Suite 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 Clergyman of a good char-
3Go
THE YEAR BOOKL— JT7NE 21, 22.
acter has the misfortune to he 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.
^Vilson, 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 pull down
the price of Bleeding to six-pence, let
these certifie that Mr. Richard Clarke,
Apothecar), will bleed any body at his
shop, gratis."
J. H. S.
h. m.
June 20. Sun rises ... 3 43
— sets ... 8 17
Yellow Phlomis flowers.
Scarlet lychnis usually begins to flower
and continues till the end of July or be-
ginning of August.
Orange lily in full flower.
^UWt 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 bound ;
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 uight 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 I saw my lady cull
The violets on the green :
How lovely did she look ! mcthought.
What beauty there was seen !
An instant on her form I gazed.
So delicately white ;
Mild as the tender lamb was she,
A d as the red rose bright
June 21.
Foxglove begins to flower under hedges :
in gardens there is a white variety.
Spanish lovein-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.
ftme
90
June 22, 1684, Mr. Evelyn enters in
his Diary— "Last Friday Sir Thomas
Armstrong was executed at Tyburn for
treason, haj;ing 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. JefTeries 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.
h.
m.
Sun
rises
.
,
,
3
43
--.
sets
.
.
,
8
17
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 Icve,
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 the spot : — with plaintive strain
Again I sigh, I cry again,
O soon return, my love !
The Minnesinger of "the Birdmeadow,"
VogeUveide, addresses these stanzas to his
lady-love —
Z&Q
THE YEAH BOOK.— JUNE 23.
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 ?
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 fair.
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, IVIay ?
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 garland 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, —
doubt me not, — it should be tliine.
" 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 Kraft of
Toggenburg, in the thirteenth century.
Docs 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 j
For there sing 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 light,
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 m dew.
h. m.
June 22. Sun rises . , . 3 43
— sets . . . 8 17
Blue sowthistle flowers.
Corn-flower, or red-cockle, begins to
flower.
The red poppy abounds in corn-held,s.
IBUtt^ 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 Sittingbourne, in Kent, and appren-
ticed, in 1686, to John Ilartly, 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
tlie 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-dona in the reign of Charles IL,
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-
367
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 23.
ferent potentate? of Kuropc \\h\\ as much
of impudent ease as he did of il)e 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 thai no person had
been more actively engaged with Sir John
Fenwick tiian himself; but his character
was so notoriously bad that tlie 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 two false 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 wiih 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 Indian. ition of the mob severely, both
at Temple Bar and Charing Cross, and
hardly escaped with life from the piuiisli-
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 arc gay '
Spring her early charms discovers j
Now the yellow butterfl}'.
Herself a flying primrose, hovers
O'er the primrose restlessly.
I will show thee where to choose
Violets of unnumbcr'd hues
(Glittering fresh with vernal rain),
From the blue of deepest stain,
■ To those that spells of frolic spile
Have bleach'd into unsullied white.
I will show thee where to cull
Wild hyacinths, as beautiful
Ab he who gave them their sweet name
• Noble.
With a dcarly-purchas'd fame.
The youth Apollo lov'd and slew
(All, 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 Uec,
Where the slender haicbell pale
Sloops bowing to the gusty gale.
II
Come away ! Come away !
Morning dolTs her wimple gray '
And her bashful face discloses.
Freshly bath'd in rainbow dews.
Blushing, like the viigin roses.
That unite the rival hues.
Wc will climb the hill's steep brow.
And o'ergazc 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 greeii.
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.
Rearing high its graceful head.
With tassell'd woodbine garlanded ;
It almost secm'd a living thing.
Come forth to greet the breathing Spring
Haste thee then, for fiery June
Will tarnish all this freshness soon,
IIL
Come away ! Come away !
Calmly dies the golden day.
To the dell, and shady fountain.
Though the cheering sun be set.
Fringing j'onder 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.
June 23.
h. m.
3 43
8 17
Sun rises .
— sets
Black briony, or our lady's seal, flowers,
Monkshood, and several sorts of wolfs-
bane, in full flower.
3G8
THE YEAR BOOK—JUNE 23.
ANCIENT YEW TREE, WINDLESHAM, SURREY.
They told me they would bind me here.
Unto the body of a dismal yew.
Shakspeare,
Mr. W. A. Delamotte, jun., ♦.ook a
drawing of this tree in the present year
(1831), and obligingly communicated it
for the piesent 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. John the Baptist,
and a record in it states that the breaking
off a branch from the old yew subjected
the trespasser to a whipping at the cart's
tail, or pillory and fine. The trunk oi
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
dsh 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-lect and court-baron
Vol IV
369
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 24.
Bagshot.
The earliest mention of the manor
of Bagshot is, lliat, in ilie reign of Henry
II., one Ralph held it, in fee farm,
as of the king's demesne. Since then
it had distinguished possessors. Edward
III. pave it to his imcle 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 tlie
crown, and, in 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 £lOO of gold coined at the royal
mint, in lieu of wards and services. By fail-
ure of issue male, Bagshot reverted, and
Charles 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.
Ah ! yfliO it he by Cynthia's gleam
Discem'd, the statue of distress ;
Weeping beside the willow'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 midnight wind ?
Speak, gentle shepherd ! tell me why ?
Sir ! he has lost his wife, they say :
Of what disorder did she die ?
TiOrd, Sir, of nona — she ran away.
3Juue 24
Midsummer Day.
For the various usages upon this great
festival see the Every -Day Book.
Battle of Bannockburn.
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 11., 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 thou-
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.
370
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 24.
njoniss, now called MiUon Uo^, froin its
vicinity lo ;i small villa-jje of thai name.
Much of this 1)0;^ is still undraiueci, ami
a pan of it is at present a miU-dam. As
it was then the middle of summer, it was
almost dry; hut, to prevent attack from
thatcpiarter, Robert resorted to stratagem.
He had some time before ordered many
ditches and pits to he digged' in the mo-
rass, and in the fiekls 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 fnin. He
also caused calthrops, or sharp-pointed
irons, to be scattered through the morass,
some of which have been found the;?, in
the memory of people yet alive. By
means of tlie natural strength of the posi-
tion, and these devices, his army stood
within an inlrenchment, forlilied by in-
visible pits and ditches, answering to the
concealed batteries of modern times.
The Scottish force was drawn up in
three divisions. Their front extended
nearly a mile in length along the brink of
tlie river. The right, which was upon
the highest grounds, was commanded by
Edward Bruce, brother to the king; the
lel't was posted on the low grounds, near
the morass, under the direction of Ran-
dolpli ; 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
tiiat n\orning received knighthood from
the king. 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 theeails 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 \'allance, 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 his
formidable host, he expressed surprise
to those about him. Sir Ingram Umfra-
ville suggested a plan which was likely
to ensure a cheap and bloodless victory
He counselled the king to make a fefnt of
retreating with the whole arrny, behind
the tents ; wluch would tempt the Scots
to break their ranks, in order to plunder
the camp, when the English might sud-
denly face about and fall upon them.
Tins advice was rejected ; Edward deem-
ed that there was no need of stratagem
in order to defeat a force so inferior.
\N hen the two armies were upon the
point of engaging, the abbot of Inchchan-
fry, having posted himself, with a crucifix
in his hand, befoi«e 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 tlicir lives. The Scots rose
again, and resuming their arms with steady
countenances, the Knglish 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
th'j 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
lo attack in front. Meanwhile another
compassed about to fall upon the flank
and rear, and fell into the snare prepared
for them. Many of iheir horses were
disabled by sharp irons rushing into theit
feel ; others tumbled into concealed pits,
and could not disentangle themselves.
In this situation Randolph 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. T!ie Scottish king
was mounted upon a little palfry, carry-
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 conspicuous. Ilenry
Bohun, an Englisli knight, cousin to the
earl of Hereford, and ranked amongst the
bravest in Edward's army, gtdloped furi-
ously up to engage with Ilobert 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 baltle-ax, which
broke in the handle, from the violence of
the stroke. This bold attack upon their
king, in the face of the whole army,
roused the Scots to instant onset, and
37 L
THE YEAR BOOK.- -JUNE 24.
they nished ftiriously 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
llobert Keiih, 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 battl*
was now at the hottest, and the fortune
of the day uncertain. The English con-
tiaued to chaige 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 ihey 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'? other knight, sir Giles de
Argentine, would not leave the field.
Throwing nimself 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 ;
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.
Tiiis tradition coi responds 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 execution with
his own hand, was, with most of his
party, cut in pieces. With this martial
prince perished Robert de Clifford, fir?t
lord of" the honor of Skipton : they
fought side by side. Their heroism had
excited the admiracion 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 victory.
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 twenty summers past
Ye danced and sang while Scotlaud wepv—
Such mirth can never last.
And how can I do less than laugh,
Wlien 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 s:ecl !
And there's sir Philip Musgrave,
All gore from helm to heel ;
And yonder is stout d'Argcntme ;
And here comes, with a sweep
The fiery speed of Gloucester —
Say wherefore should I weep '
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 24.
Weep, all ye English maidens,
Lo, Bannockbrook'i in flood !
Not with its own sweet waters.
But England's noblest blood.
For sec, your arrow shower has ceased
The thrilling bow-string's mute ;
And where rides fiery Gloucester 1
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 tum'd the rein to fly ;
And on them rushes Randolph —
Hark I Edward Bruce's cry.
*Mid reeking blood the Douglas 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 Bruce of Bannockburn —
In many a sorrowing song.
Farthing Loaf Day at Kiddehmin-
STER.
[For the Year Book.]
A very curious practice is observed on
INlidsummer-eve, at Kidderminster, 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-
strecty 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 \\hich are prepared expressly
for this occasion at the present time. The
donor was a benevolent old 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 inhabitants 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
unmarried resident in Churcn-sircet, .et
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 in the street siiould be invited,
poor and rich. The iiouseholders each
to take their turn in being host, but with
a proviso, that none except the occupiers
of front houses should enjoy tliis dig-
nity. The toast directed to be drunk
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.
Sheep Shearing.
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 cculd never to the table bring
The bowl, without one rising from the ring
To lend a hand ; who, if 'twere ta'cn 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 beet the cellar could supply ;
While sung the ancient swains, in uncouth
rhymes,
Songs that were pictures of the good old timrs.
Thus will the old man ancient ways bewail,
Till toiling shears gain ground upon the tale,
And break it off — ^fcr now the timid sheep.
His fleece shorn of, starts with a fearful leap.
Shaking his naked ilin with wond'ring joyi.
While others are brought in by sturdy boys.
Then follows a lively account of ex-
isting usages at a sheep-shearing.
373
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 25.
Though fnshion't haughty frown hath
thrown asiJo
Half the old forma aimplirity aupplicd,
Yet ihrre are »omc pride's winter deigns to
•pare.
Left like greon ivy when the trees are bare
And now, when shearing of the flocks ia done.
Some ancient customs, mix'd with harmlcssfun.
Crown the swain'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, paintsd like her face ;
The shining pansy, trimm'd with golden lace ;
The tall topp'd larkhccls, feather'd thick with
flowers ;
The woodbine, climbing o'er the door in
bowers ;
The liondon 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, sumtncr 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-cottagc-gardrn'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 ;
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 feast of furmety, is thrown asiilc ;
And the old freedom that was living then.
When masters made them merry with their
men ;
When all their coats alike were russet brown.
And his rude speech was vulgar as their owu :
All this in pas?, and soon will pass uwmt
The lirae-toru remnant of the holiday.
Junr 24. Sun rises . ,
— sets . . .
St. John's lorch flowers.
Grass fully ready for the scythe
h. m,
3 43
8 17
f uiie ^5.
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 bo
tamed.*
• Albin.
374
THE YEAR BOOK.—JUNE 26.
Lines written 25th June, 1811, on
THE death of Miss S. T.'s Black-
UIRD.
[Unpublished.]
Many a maid
A bird hath laid
All under the greenwood tree ;
And many a rhyme
Hath mark'd the time
From Prior down to me.
Many a girl,
As I can tell.
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 o -.t of ten die- •
All in the night.
As if in spite.
They give her care the go-bye
The bird was fed.
And put to bed.
To sleep the live-long night ;
Chirping with gle«}
It arose at three.
It being then broad day-light.
It wish'd to eat.
It cali'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 uo bell
The hours to tell,
No maiden to help to dress them j
At earliest dawn
They salute the morn,
A.nd rather you'd ^«ed than caress them.
To be tetised with a kiss
They think much amiss.
When a worm would be more grateful :
And then to be fed
VViih sour milk and bread
Is to every bird as hateful.
When you've kisses to spare
Let men be your care,
But give birds what nature intended —
Good air and day-light.
And freedom of flight.
And they'll hold their condition much mendf a
J. M. of M. II.
June 25. Sun rises •
— seis
Rose of Jericho flowers.
Corn camomile flowers.
h. m.
3 43
8 17
On the 2eth of Tune. 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 20,
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-
cumstances that could weigh with ajury,but
because he sung to his harp &ome " droll"
verses upon the occasion, which moved
the minister more than the misery of Tun
stall's manyassociates 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 suffered for what lliey
judged their duty. Had more mercy been
shown in 1716, there would not, probably
have been a rebellion in 1 745 *
Political Adversaries
— ■ ' Trace
Survives, for worthy mention, of a pair
Who, from the pressure of their several fates.
Meeting as strangers, in a petty town
'Vhose blue roofs ornament a distant reach
Of this far-winding vale, remained as friend*
True to tneir choice • and gave their bones in
trust
To this loved cemetery, nere lo .odge.
With unescutcheoned privacy interred
Far from the family vault.— A chieftain one
• Noble
375
THE YEaR book.— JUNE 26.
By ri|thl of blfth ; within »ho«e tpotleH br«»tt
Th« ir« of «nricD( CAle«Joni« burned.
U*, with the fomnMt whose impatience hailed
The Stuart, landing to rctame, by force
Of arms, the crown which bigotry had lo«t,
;ln>uM>d his clan ; and, t gbting at their head.
With hi* brave aword endeavnurrd to prevent
Culloden'a fatal overthrow. — Escaped
Prom that diaaairuut rout, to foreign thorea
He fled ; and, when the lenient hand of time
Those iroublea had appeased, he sought ano
Saioed,
For his obscured condition, an obscure
Retreat^ within this nook of English ground.
— The other, bom in Britain's southern tract.
Had fixed hit milder loyalty, and placed
His gentler sentiments of love and hate,
Thtre, where thry placed iliem who iu con-
science pnzed
The new succession, as a line of kings
Whose oath had virtue to protect the land
Againvt the dire assaulu of Papacy
And arbitrary rule. But launch thy bark
On the distempered flood of public life.
And caitfe for most rare triumph will be tliine.
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 moralised on this, and other trr.ths
Of kindred import, pleased and satUfied,
Was forced to vent hit wisdom with a sigh
Heav'd from the heart in fortune's bittf mess.
When he had crushed a plentiful estate
By ruinous conte»t to obtain a seat
In Britain's senate. Fruitless was the at-
tempt :
And, while the nproar of that desperate strife
Continued yet to vibrate on his ear.
The vanquished Whig, beneath a borrowed
(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 l9sse« and vexations, less severe
Than thoM which they had severally sua*
tained.
Would have Inclined each to abate his zeal
For his ungrateful cause ; no, — I have heard
My reverend father Ull that, 'mid the calm
Of that small town, encountering thiu, they
filled.
Daily, its bowling-green with harmless strife ;
Plagned with uncharitable thoughts the
church ;
And v«acd th« maikct-placa. Bat in it
Of these opponents gradually was wrought.
With little change of general sentiment.
Such change towards each other, thai their
days
By choice was spent in constant fellowship ;
And if, at times, they fretted with the yukc.
Those very bickerings made them love it :norc.
A favourite boundary to their lenirtlicned
walk<
This church-yard ws . And, whetaer they
had come
Treading their patn in sympatny and linked
In social converse, or by some sliort space
Discreetly parted to preserve the peace.
One spirit seldom failed to extend its sway
Over both minds, when they awiiilc had
marked
The visible quiet of this holy gfouno
And breathed its soothing air ; — the sijirit of
hope
And saintly magnanimity ; that, spuming
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 forgrtfulncss.
Preclude forgiveness, from the praise debarred,
Which else the Christian virtue might have
claimed,
—There live who yet remember here to have
seen
Their courtly figures, — seatt-d 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 RhoulJ stand
For public use ; and also might survive
As their own private monument ; for this
Was the particular spot in which they v ished
(And heaven was pleased to accomplish the
desire)
That, unriividfd, thdr 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 the margin cf the plate, whereon
The shadow falls, to note the stealthy hours.
Winds an inscriptive legend —
" Time flies ; it is his melancholy task
To bring, and bear away, delusive hopes.
And re-produce the troubles he 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 want*, should be for thee
Confirme4.*'
Wordtworth
376
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 26.
OLD WATERING POT,
Why tins wonrd make a man —
To use his eyes for garden water-pots j
Ay, and lay autumn's dust.
Shohpeare.
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, and weed-like flowers ; since
when I have seen only the usual pa>* ted
tin watering pots, and the more powerful
garden-engines, used in the gardens ot 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, than
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 or
three centuries. It is an archaeological
curosity. The preceding is an engraving
of it from a arawing by a correspondtTt ;
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. 1 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 bason-customer — 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
Sun rises
h. m.
3 34
8 16
26.
— sets
Bindweeds flower.
Little sunflower begins to blow on
chalky and light soils.
377
THE YEAR BOOK. -JUNE 27.
aiunr 27.
June 27, 1686, Mr. Erelyn says, " Tlie
new very young Lord Chief Justice Herbert
declared on the bench, that the govern-
noenl of England was entirely in tlie 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
uflencet 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 tiitd while he
was reviewing his army encamped on
Ilounslow 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, Yorkshire,
May 2nd, 1831.
Mr. Hone,
The following Letter presents a
laughable contrast between members of
parliament in Elizabeth's reign and such
as we have had in recent times : —
" To the Right Worshipful the Mar/or
and Burgesses of Totness — After my
most harty commendacions, whereas
I, at my brother's request, and for
your sakes, have been your burgess for
the parliament to my no snialL costey
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 olher>vise I prevented not the
same : These arc therefore to require you,
either to bestowe the same upon some
other, or else to allow me but the hare fee
which u tipo shillings a duy ; 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 1
know of, to travel up to London ; which
considered, I 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 1565. — Yours to command^
Richard Edgecomb."
It appears tliat the custom of boroughs
maintaining their 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 pririlegcs 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 " Pad stow, Lelent, and Ma-
razion 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 Life of Lord Uusscll, p. 94). Lord
Danby extended the system of corrupting
members, increasing the sum allowed
from 10 to 20,000 (lb. p. 88). So far
had corruption advanced, under his Ca-
iholic majesty Charles II. It appears
that the first instance of election bribery
on record occurred in the 13 of Elizabeth,
( Blackstone's Comm. i. 179).
In the reign of Henry III. the parlia-
378
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 27.
mert 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 1 forget) the
parliament was called " indoctum par-
liamentum " — the illiterate parliament,
A Scotch assembly was called llie " 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 SCATCIIERD.
Burgesses of Prestox.
[To Mr. Hone.]
Sir, — ^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 tlie 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 kept the roads
in better repair.
There is another custom in Lancashire,
which, p.s 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 tiiem.*
I am Sir, &c.
Annie Milner.
April 1831.
The Season.
Now Summer is in flower, and Nature's hum
Is never silent round her bounteous bloom j
Insects, as small as dust, have never done
With glilt'ring dance, and reeling in the sun;
And green wood fly, and blossom-haunting
bee.
Arc never weary of their melody.
Round field and hedge flowers in full g cry
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 j
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 below
The May-month wild flowers and their gaudy
show.
Leaving, a school's-boy height, in snugger
rest.
The leveret's seat, and lark, and partridge
nest. Clare.
* [Particulars of this custom of Lifting at
Easier arc related in the Every -Day Booh, i,
422.]
379
THE YEAR BOOK— JUNE 28.
Flowers.
Nit Irit la her pride and braverie,
Adornrt her arch with such varictic ;
Nor doth the milk-white way ia frottic night,
Appcare %o fair and beautiful in night ;
As doe tbeao fields and groves, and sweeter
bowrcs,
Bestrew'd, and dcckt with partie-colourcd
flowrrs.
.Hong the babbling brookes, and silver glyde.
That at the bottom doth in silence slydc.
The waterie flowres, and lillics on the bsnkcs.
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 minthc.
The double daisie, and the couslipe, queene
Of summer flowres, do ovcrpeere the grceue ;
And round about the valley as yc passe.
Ye may no sec, 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 sLould 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 ftil upon a little western flower ;
Before milk white, now purple with Love
wound,
And maidens call it Love in Idleness.
Shakrpeare.
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.
SUIW 28.
June 28, 1802, M, Garnerin and CapL
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 Lunardi.
TuE DAfsr.
In youth from rock to rock I weM*
From hill to hill in discontent
Of pleasure high and turbulent.
Most pleased when most uneasy ,
But now my own delights I make,—
My thirst at every rill can slake.
And gladly Nature's love partake
Of thee, sweet daisy.
When soothed awhile by milder airs,
Thee Winter in the garland wears
That thinly shades his few grey hairs ;
Spring cannot nhun thee •,
Whole summer fields are thine by right.
And Autumn, melancholy wight !
Doth in thy crimson head delight
When rains arc on thee.
A nundred times, by rock or oower.
Kre thus I have 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.
Wordiworth.
And as for me, though that I can but lite.
On bokis for to rede, I mc delite.
And to 'hem yeve I faiihc and full credence.
And in mine herte have 'hem in reverence
So hertily, that there is game none
That fro* my bokis makcth mc to gone.
But it be seldome, on the holie dale.
Save certainly whan that the month of M-aie
Is comio, and I here the foulis sing.
And that the flouris ginnin for to spring.
Farewell my boke and my devotion.
Now have I than eke this condicion.
That above all the flouris in the mede
Than love I most these flouris white and redo.
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 daie.
That I n'am up, and walking in the mede.
To senc tliis floure ayenst the sunne sprede
What it upriscth 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 all flouris the floure.
Full filled of all vcrtue and honoure.
And ever ilike faire and frcshe 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 ginneth west.
To sene this floure how it will go to rest i
For fere of night, so hateth she darknesee.
Her chere is plainly spred in the brightnesse
Of the sunne, for there it woll unclose :
Alas that I nc' had English, rime or prose.
380
THE YEAR BOOK-JUNE 29.
S'jfKsattnt to praise this floure aright. —
To »ene this floure so yonge, so freshe of hcwe.
Constrained me with so grcdie desire.
That in my hcrte I felin yet the fire
That made me to rise ere it were daie.
And now this was the first morrowe of Maie,
With dredful hcrte and glad devocion
For to ben at the resurrection
Of this floure, whan that it should unclose
Again the sunne, that rose as redde as rose ;—
And doune on knees anon right I me sette.
And as I could this freshe floure I grette,
Kneling alwaie till it unclosed was
Upon the small, and soft, and swete grasse.
That was with flouris swete embroudr'd all.
Of soche sweetnesse, and soche odoure o'er all.
That for to spekin of gomme, herbe, or tree.
Comparison maie none imakid be.
For it surmounteth plainly all odoures.
And of rich beautie, the most gay of floures —
When Zephyrus and Flora gentilly
Yave to the floures soft and tenderly,
Ther sote breth, and made 'hem for to spredde.
As god and goddesse of the flourie mede.
In which methought I mighte daie by daie
Dwellin alwaie the joly monthe of Maie
Withouten slepe, withouten mete or drinke ;
Adoune full softily I gan to sinke.
And lening on my elbow and my side
The longe daie I shope me for t'abide.
For nothing ellig, and I shall not lie.
But for to lokin upon the Daisie,
That well by reson men it calle maie
The Daisie, or else the eye of daie.
The emprise, and the floure of flouris all
I praie to God that, faire mote she fall,
And all that lovin flouris for her sake.
Chaucer.
h. ra.
June 28. Sun rises ... 3 44
— sets ... 8 16
Rose campion, or corn-cockle, and the
eorn-flower blow. They come with the
lengthened corn before it ripens
auite 29. .
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 coped crowns
like Janizaries, which made them look
very fierce ; and some had long hoods
hanging down behind, as we picture fools ;
their clothing being likewise py-bald,
yellow, and red." Grenadiers derived
theii 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 gienades in potichet,
and axes, they were armed with firelocks,
sling^, swords, and daggers. Bayonets
were first appropriated to the grenadiers
and dragoons.*
To Primroses filled with Mornino
Dew.
*' Why do ye weep, sweet babes '^ Can tears
Speak grief in you.
Who were but born
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 a 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 tiieir feeling and descriptive-
ness, may be introduced these beautiful
verses — f
By Delta.
Come hither, come hither, and view the face
Of Nature enrobed in her vernal grace —
By the hedgerow wayside 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 : they
are derived into the Year Bjok from an ano*
nyraous collection.
b81
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 30.
Mounu the lark, on tl>e wings of her rapture
driven :
The voice of the ttrcamlct is frc«h and loud ;
On the sky there it not a iipeck of cloud :
Come hither, come hither, and join with me
In th» season's delightful jubilee .
Haste out of doors — from the pasloral mount
The isles of ocean thine eye may count —
From coast to coant, 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 chimnicd steam-boat tossing high
Its volum'd smoke to the waste of sky :
While you note, in foam, on the yellow beach,
The tiny billovrs, 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
Arc 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 ; tlie mole
Pops out from the earth of its wintry hole ;
And the jerking 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 j
The crocus, and spring's first messenger.
The fairy snowdrop, aie 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 sunlct, I'll show the sun ; "
The gilly.flower shoots its stem on high,
And peeps on heaven with its pinky eye ;
Primroses, an iris-hued multitude,
By the kissing winds arc wooing and wooed :
While the wall-flower threatens with bursting
hud.
To darken its blossoms with winter's blood.
Come here, come hither, and mark how swell
The fruit-buds of the jargonelle.
On its yet but leaflet, greening boughs.
The apricot open its blossom throws ;
The delicate peach-tree's branches run
O'er the warm wall, glad to feel the sun ;
And the cherry proclaims of cloudless weather.
When iu 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 saiih, " 111 win
your praise
With mj grateful coolness oa barvett 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 with its switching tail.
About and abroad, in its mirth it flies.
With its long black forelocks about its eyes ,
Or bends its nock down with a stretch,
Tlie 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 sooty rooks, loudly cawing, ruam.
With sticks and straws, to their woodland
home.
Out upon in dour 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 iu smiling mirth j
Heboid 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 . . ..816
Musk-flower blows in gardens. Yellow-
rattle, or cockscomb, in flower. It is said
to blow when the grass is fit for mowing.
^nne 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
miitister and churchwardens; and then
they are to be delivered, with the motiev
382
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 30.
col'ected, to the persons undertaking them,
who within two montlis 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.
Brief was a term applied to papal acts
sealed "with wax; those sealed with lead
were termed bulls.-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 the
names of the witnesses to be called, with
A\hat 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 winged haste to my Lord Mareschal,
1 Henrij IV.
Even a speech, says Mr. Nares, is so
termed.
Her business looks in her
With an 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-born 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 Jonn,
• Tomlins. f FosbroVe. X Tomlins.
Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face;—
These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of
his ;
This little abstract doth contain that large.
Which died in Getlrey ; 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 long yellow 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
after 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 dusky floor whence they had
arisen, being now naked and exposed to
the sun's influence, disclosed myriads of
v.'orms, 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
of 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
383
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUNE 30.
air. It had not stood long exposed to
tho full radiance of the sun, when it
wumed on the point of perishing under
his loo strong heat. Its back sudJenly
burst open lengthwise, and, a creature
wholly unlike the former arise from within
it !— a rery beautiful fly disengaged itself
by degrees, and left behind it only a thin
skin that hal 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 tlieir
bright and perfect silky structure. The
creature now be;?an to quiver them in
varions 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 race! 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
roy e aculation, when a cloud obscured
the sun's face; the air grew chill, and
hail 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 1 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 my 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 enjoyment, to what ruin
he alone was exposed.*
♦ Sir John Hi 1.
Creation of the Sun avv Moos.
For so the light of the world, in the
morning of the creation, was spread
abroad like a curtain, and dwelt no
where ; that filled the exp.inse with a dis-
temination 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. — Jeremu
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 s€se 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 ns to learn her lore.
From amongst a thousand beauties in
" The British Naturalist," the following
is an extract— on the 8«:mmer appearance
of the great luminal y of our system : —
The charm cf a summer's morning is
in the uplaad, and tlie 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 ij. 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,
r>ot even a solitary robber, upon the Bri-
tish uplands-; and the eagle and tiie raven
are yet in the rocks, and rcynarJ just
leaving his earth in the coppice below,
riiat whistle is his reve'llie, 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 — tiie chine of
the wilderness ; but 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. Tlie whole landscape is so soft, so
undefined, and so shadowy, that one is
left to fdl 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 eflect. 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 cfiiar* oscuro — u
grouping of light and shade, that never
can be observed when the sun is at any
height, as the shadow is from eminence to
emmence, 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 i*
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
streaky shadows for miles, though each
seems but a speck. The lands on the
opposite sides of the estuary pay their
morning salulalions, 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 be^ms 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
386
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY.
positions come out, wit.h 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
filso, 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. *
Loud is the Summer's busy song
The smallest breeze can find a tongue.
While insects of each tiny size
Grow teazing with their melodies.
Till noon burns 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 ;
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 breeze is stopt, the lazy bough
Hath not a leaf that dances now }
The tottergrass upon the hill.
And spiders' threads, arc standing 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
Unruffled 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 clsuds of many hues ;
Then nature's voice its joy renews.
And chequer'd field and grassy plain
Hum, with their summer songs again,
A rcquium 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 Directory.
Sow,
In the first week, broccoli seed, for late
spring supply.
Kidney-beans, endive, — and again in
the third week.
Small salad ing 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 white-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, broccoli, 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 to 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 tlie 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 drying — mint, balm,
sage, &c. ; dry them in the shade.
Stick peas, top becins, 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.
Alimentary 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
efiecting 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 meat;
instead of which, ham, bacon and tongaes.
387
TUE YEAK BOOK—JULY.
RS well as ducks and geese, are tlie more
reasonable slimulartts : tlieir Havor 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,
wi.ere also the fawn forms an elegant
dish, when roasted whole and served up
with rich gravy. \'eal, having now been
fe»l on milk in its richest state, is peculiarly
fine and well flavored. Ragouts of sweet-
breads, oxpalales, lambs* bits, fat livers,
and cocks'-combs, are among the light
dishes introduced at superior tables;
where als« various prepurations 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 froni Oermany
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 certainly most
salubrious m 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 tlieir lives
to prolong mine; which, in ten years,
amounts to at least six iliousand. 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 otlier lic|Uors, have passed
through this body of mine — this wretched
strainer of meat and drink! And what
have I done, all this time, for God oi
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 liath 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 ! 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 liis 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 transformed him from
a brute to a man. lie lived many follow-
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 ?*
• Franklin.
388
THE YEAR BOOK. -JULY ], 2.
Suli) 1.
On the 1st of July, 1690, fell, at the
battle of the Boyne, the celebpated 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 panii.-atruck governor
basely 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 liorses for foraging parties
or sallies, but held an invincible resolu-
tion to suffer the greatest extremities
rather than yield. They sent to inform
King 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 th«
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 no 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. Resigning 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. lie 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.
Jw(y 1. Sun rises .... 3 45
— sets 8 J5
*^* Ko REAL Night until the 22nd.
liiicampane flowers.
Copper day lily flowers
Evening primrose flowers.
Foxglove in full flower every where.
Sulg 2.
Official Decyphering.
July 2, 1788. A writer in the Gentle-
man's Magazine, in a letter of this date.
389
THE YEAR BOOK.-JULY 2.
Mgncd P. T., Mys — ** I had the honor to
b« nearly related to Mr. Justice Blen-
cowe, the father of Mr. William Blen-
cowe, who was the first person to whom
government allowed a salary as dccy-
pherer ; and I will tell you how he
obtained it : it was by going to the min-
ister unknown, and, 1 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
aualified to execute it.' * Can you V said
le 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, 1 tliinJc, 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 diedj however, satisfied with
Itfer^
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.
Wallis, 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 Alterbury.*
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,
feir, 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 tu dead for some time,
John observed that he thought his honor
was coming into life again; the judge
•Noblii
thought so too, and soon after arose from
the dead. lie died, in reality, May G,i726,
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 Itewer
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. J.ady
Blencowe, perceiving it, desired the judge
to continue him his ei^hl 'tence a day, and
let him stay at home. ' iNo,' 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", lie will soon die with grief.'
And that was the case, for, when the judge
died, he was discharged, and followed hi.«
humane and considerate master a few days
after."
Cahnation and Insects.
The 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 furnished with apparatuses
of a thousand kinds for close observation.
I instantly distended the lower part 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 this 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 rnany 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 iu
890
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 2.
pairs, alone, or in larger companies, the
winged inhabitants: these from little
dusky flies, for such only the naked eje
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 empyraean 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 tlieir 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 fancy, 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 itieir short flight to the close
shadow of some broader leaf, to revel
undisturbed in the heights of all felicity.
Nature, tb'^ God of nature, has propor-
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 of being, as much as we
do years — 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
filled up, sunk in an easy dissolution.
With what joy in their pleasures did I
attend the first and the succeeding broods
through tlie full period of their joyful
lives! 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 docs 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 ihee 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 earth,
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 vhe glorious feast.
Thou retir'st to endless rest.
While the pure contemplative mind
thus almost envies what the rude obser-'er
would treat unfeelingly, it natural! »-•
shrinks into itself on the thought tha'-.
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 mite,
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, tha*
the earth which we inhabit is eternal.*
July 2. Sun rises .... 3 46
— sets 8 14
Our lady lily -\
thistle > flower.
slipper 3
• Sir John Hill
391
TUE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 2.
CLOPHILL, BEDFORDSHIRE.
[For the Year Book.]
At distance seen, the fir-clad lieight
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 cliastened rays invest
The straggling ivy's glisl'ning crest ;
I-ike light that comes beyond the tomb
To chase the way-worn Christian's gloom ;
And scatter round his wasted form
A glory that defies tlio storm.
The winds are still, that whispered thtre,
Soft as the saintly hermit's prayer,
When peace, and liope, and heavenly love.
Fill all the radiant air above,
And from their balmy wings dispense
A rich, refreshing influence ;
And yet those feathery larches seem
Instinct with life, — an em'rald gleani.
Flushing the dim and dark-brow'd steep,
Like sunlight on the sliadowy 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 ;
(^'er which the wary chadinch 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 Year
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 yard, 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. 1 believe that
monuments of the kind, in similar situa-
tions, did not come into us€ much earlier
392
THE YEAK BOOK.— JULY 3.
than the date of this specimen, which
bore tiie following broken metaphor: —
DEATH DO NOT KICK AT MEE
FOR CHRIST HATH TAKEN
THY STING AWAY
1623.
I noticed also another memorial of very
singular form, thus inscribed : —
HEAR
LIESTHE
BODEY OF
THOMAS
DEARMAN T
HAT GAVE 6 P
OVND
TO TH
RERS O
ILL
I. R.
AY EAR
E LABK
F CLOPH
1631.
m.^.
Snlv 3.
In July, 1709, died Mr. WiHiam
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, ami
at the age of fourteen bound apprentice
to his grandfather, an apothf^cary at Alton.
During this period he was led to study
botany by residing contiguous to the
Crown Inn, and becoming acquainted
with the ostler, J.. hn Lagg, a sober steady
illiterate man of >t ong sense, who, assisted
by the folio heibals of old Gerard and
Parkinson, had gained so complete a
knowledge of p'ants, that not one could
be brought tohim 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 tiie only books on botany which
he had been able to procure during 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 there
given by Mr. Else, as well as the lectures
of Dr. George Fordyce, senior physician
to that hospital. Dr. Fordyce, convinced
of the necessity of botanical knowledge
to medical sludents was in the practice
of accompanying his pupils into the
country, near town, and instructing them in
the principles 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 publiv.
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 " Fundamenta Entomologia;"
of Linnaeus. He was chosen demon-
strator of botany to the Society of Apo-
thecaries, and continued in that situation
xintil finding it interfere too niuch with
his professional duties, he resigned it. —
Before this resignation took placf, 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. Ilere 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. Kilburn, 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 wisiies 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
393
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 3.
naturml history, and had noihing lo depend
upon for a livelihood but the precarious
f>rofits of his botanic garden and his pub-
ications. Ilii Flora Londincnsis was an
object of universal admiration ; and on
this he bestowed unwearied care. But,
wiih all its unrivalled merit, the number
of copies sold scarcely ever exceeded
three hundred, lie disdained to have
recourse to artifice and increased price to
enable him to carry on the sale ; but, in
1787, he projected the plan of his "Bo-
tanical Magazine," and what the sterling
merit of his " Tlora'' 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 ureatly contributed to increase his
botunical 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 hinrvself, 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. Jolin
Sims, to whom he committed n'emoirs 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 nr.ysrlf and my 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, lie disco-
vered the membranous calj/ptra in mosses,
overlooked by Dillenius ; and that the
violas and oxalises produce seeds all the
year through, though the latter produce
no petals except in the spring, the former
only sparingly in the autumn. He pomted
out the distinction between Poa praUnsis
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,
whether 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 irnparMug
this knowledge. His skill in this par-
ticular enlivened many a herborization in
waste wilds and embarrassing woods.
In Entomology few rnen 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 onl' 72 numbers : 70 were of the
former deicription, 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 thiv^g
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 tlic
394
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 4, 5.
consequence of what in his case, and
from the circumstances of his family, was
unavoidable, an incorrect education. The
affluent may profit from remarks of this
kind, and do their duty, by giving their
children not half 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 Linnaeus 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.*
Juli/ 3. Sun rises. , ... 3 47
— sets 8 13
Common mullrin, black muilrin, and
white mullrin, (lowers.
Scotch boUflower flowers.
I9ttl|) 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 : —
Whcresocuer Iliildrychc hath his plnoe,
the people there brings in
Both Carpes and Pykes and Mullets fat,
his favour here to win.
Amid the church there sitteih one,
and to the aultar nie.
That selleth 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 flowers, at sides of
ditches and rivers.
• Gentleman's Magazine,
The " Bloody Hall" of Buccleugh.
[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 duke 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 iiTimediately traversed by the soldiers,
to no effect; 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, thty 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 slaughter-house. The heads,
skins, and offal, 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 from that time the place
has been called the Bloody Hall : 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
395
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 6.
daggers, beauliful tapestry and paintings,
and devastated the edifice. Those re-
maining ornaments of the castle, which I
have seen, bear marks of the highlanders'
•tern resentment.
F. B.
Jultf
Sun rises
— sets
Garden hawks-eye
Musk mallow
lied martagon 1
Corn marigold
jye-^
ily j ^^'''
h. m.
3 48
8 12
Dukes of Queensbeiiry — Queexs-
BEKRY House, EniNBuncH — Drum-
la n rig 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 holdinsr 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. JNIr.
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
required within that county, while his
ministerial duties in Edinburgh no less
imperatively demanded his residence in
the neighbourhood of the court. lie 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
Dumfries-shire, he brought Dumfries-
shire to him.
Queensberry-house, Edinburgh, was
occasionally visited by the family about
the middle of the last century. The
rreat Earl of S*.aii 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 tl»e 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 exciie;jiier, 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 nanel'
The house was at latt sold by the duke to
William Aitchison, of Drummore, esq.,
for a paltry sum, the greater part of w hich
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 J 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 Druni-
lanrig Castle. Yet he grudged the ex-
pense of this great work so mucli, that
he wrote, upon the bundle of 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 II. 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-
3%
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 6.
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 pubJic 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 beitig 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 his courai^e, and was
one of those Scottish noblemen who waited
upon the p~ince to request him to under-
take the administration of affairs. Sub-
milting 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 1695.
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 Cl.ar'es IL, and made a lieutenant-
colonel of the army ; but resigned his
employments under James H. in 1688.
King William received him with peculiar
regard — presented to him a commission
of captain of his Dutch Guard — restored
him to the poits he had bpfore held —
made him a lord of the bed-chamber —
appointed him to an important military
situation in Scotland — coiiferred 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 tiorsemcn.
The next day he waited upon queen Aime,
at Kensington, where he was received
with distinction. He shortly afterwards
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. lie married
Mary, the fourth daughter of Charles
Boyle, lord Clifford, eldest son of
Richard, eail 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
Canongate, 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. Li 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. The whole 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 conopletely deserted, and the Canon-
gate like a city of the dead — and observ-
ing his keeper to be absent, broke loose
fron. his confinement and roamed wi'dly
3S>7
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 6.
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 "ajudgmenr 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 affeclion, 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, a;id 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 Opera 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 th«
duke's our informant docs not certify."
Drumlanrig Castle, being a very lari:*
and roomy mansion, is duly honored witli
the tradition of a ghost, said to be tho
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 theLuckenbootlis
— the flat above tiiat long kept by Creecli,
where, for a long course of years, all tlie
literati of Edinburgh assembled daily,
like merchants at an exchange. Hero
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 tV^e sons of
mirth and humor in a twopenny-ale- house,
opposite to Queensberry-house, kept by
one Janet Wall, wlio 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 littlt
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
398
THE YEAK BOOK.- JULY 6.
treatment. She was, in reality, insane,
though the politeness of fashionable so-
niety, 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 was as clever and as mad as her-
self, and used to amuse liimself by hiding
a book in liis 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
ray 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 extraordinary fashions. 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 has 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 viliany every other day of the week
round. — "
The duchess was not an admirer of
Scottish manners. She particularly de-
tested the custom of eating off" 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 offenders
a silver spoon, or fork, upon a salver. Gay
illustrates this in a letter to Swift, dated
February, 1 728. " 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 so much goodness, virtue, and gen-
erosity, that, if you knew her, you w(.uM
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 iheir 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, forbidding the ladies to appear at
the drawing-room 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
slopped the duchess, and told her grace
that he could not possibly give her ad-
mission in that guise; without a moment'u
hesitation slie stripped off her apron,
threw it in his lordship's face, and walked
on, in her brown gown and petticoat, into
the brilliant circle.
399
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 6.
Tl>e duchess's caprices were endless,
ye!, both in her conversation and letters,
»he displayed a great degree of wil and
quickness 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
*oved.
The duke, 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.
TOUCUIKO FOR THE EviL.
July 6, 1660, Mr. Evelyn enters m his
diary, on this day — " His majesty Charles
IL began first to touch for the evil, ac-
cording to custome, thus : — his majesty
sitting under his stale in the banquelting-
house, the chirurgeons 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 chaplainf
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 liyht, 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 cliamberlaine
and comptroller of the household bring a
basin, ewer, aad 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
Michaelmas."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
to the period of the decease of queen
Anne. J
[For the Year Book.]
Dialogue on the Death of Lindliy
Mi;rray, Esq.
*' A truly good man — be writes very correctly."
Dramatis Persona.
I — is the first person.
Thou — is the second person.
He; She: or, It:— is the third person.
I — Those sentinels in sable clad
Wby stand ihey 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 *' Slutes cannot be sounded. '
He — Death, then, if I have rightly heard,
Was so " irregular" a word,
That Murray, though he might define ii
Was quite unable to ** decline" it.
D. A.
h. m.
Julj/ 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. 65.
X Drake's Shakspeare and His Times, i. 370.
Sec further in the Everif Dot/ Book.
400
THE YEAR BOOK— JULY G.
AN ADVENTURE IN SHERWOOD FOREST.
A Little Geste of Robin Hood.
[For the Year Book.]
I caunot parfitly my paternoster as the priest it singeth,
But I can rhyme of Robyn Hode and Kandall erie of Chester,
Tho' of oure lorde and our ladye I can nothynge at all.
Vision of Piers Ploughmen.
There strides a warrior dark 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.
He pauses — fronting in his path,
Forth leaps a stal worth 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 will brand thee an errant knave ; "
Vol. IV
401
2 D
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 6.
** And I am a chief from Palestine,
So 'tis but meet and right
That I should cross my steel with ihine.
Outlaw !" 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 shall wend,
"Bold swordsman, home wiih me,
For never did I hope to find
So brave a knight as thee."
« Then lead the way," 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 archers, 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 bwves my power j
Now tell me whom thou art ?"
« I am Kino Richard ! — 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. 11.
King Johk, RoniN Hood, and Matilda, than this of Davenport's tragedy on the
subject ; and I should therefore be inclined
[For the Year Book.] j^ ^^^^-^ ^\^^^ j^g ^^^3 misinformed, and
A correspondent in the Table Bookj 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 informed as to husband's murder, Matilda fled to Dun-
know that Matilda ended her days in a mow Priory, — for vhere her monument is
nunnery, by poison administered by order still preserved. It stands on the left side
of king John, 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 faJr
402
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 7
marble effigy, designed to show that 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 Davenport may have been the first
person who noticed it.
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 iuclined to admit its ge-
nuineness.
Among an odd collection of MS. songs
in my possession, I find the following,
which asserts (though without foundation)
that the outlaw was poisoned by his sister,
the prioress of Kirklees. Here it is :
Le Morte de Robin Hode.
To Kerldees stately prlorie
Came an old time-worn man.
And for food and shelter praved he.
Ye chief of a noble clan
He was — who in Burnsdale and meme Sher-
wood
Sported blithely in time agone,
And albeit full could crept his sluggish blode,
Yt ye step was firm and ye bearing proud,
Of Robin, ye outlawed one.
And ye prioress gave him a brimming bowle.
And bade him drink deep therein,
" 'Twould 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.
And 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 priorass stood like a rooted stone
When she saw that ye crle was dede ;
And her eyes grew glazed, and she uttered a
yell
Too horrid for mortal ear.
And laughter rang — 'twas 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.
And many a pilgrim hath wept when he read
What is written that stone upon.
Next follows his epitaph.
The pedantry of the last stanza out one
savors strongly of the monastery, but no
77ionk would have called the outlaw's com-
pany " a noble clan," neither would any
of the earlier minstrels have stolen ideas
from the pagan mythology. It may have
been first composed in the sixteenth cen-
tury.
I am, &c.
I. F. R.
June 16, 1831.
P. S. Some of your reaoers may have
other versions of the above ballad ; if so,
they wou^d do well to forward them to
the Year Book.
Snlv ^.
This is the anniversary of the death of
St. Thomas a Becket, at whose tomb
Henry II. submitted to the penance of
flagellation.
Flagellation
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 tlie
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 >;ubmitting to a flagellation, may
403
THE YEAR BOOK.—JULY 8.
bo ietn In our own days, at every vacancy
of the see of WurUburgh, a sovereign
bishopric in Germany. It is an ancient
custom in the chapter of that churcli, that
the person wl»o 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 tlie
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
DeuSy 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 suff'ered 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 the church, and un-
dergo a dreadful flagellation. Tliis report
M. D'Ossat contradicts in one of his
-etters, which says that the flagellation 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 suff*er it to be inserted
in a bull of absolution which was sent to
the king.
July 7. Sun rises . . . . 3 49
— sets ... .811
Raspberries begin to ripen.
Most of the strawberries are in full per-
fection.
On the 8ih of July, 1726, died John
Ker, of Kersland, of the ancient family of
Crawford, of Crawfutdland, in Scotland.
He was born at Crawfurdland-liouse,
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 professin;^
the Roman catholic religion, he refused
to receive court employment. His son,
John Ker, became a spy under queen
Ann, to defeat the designs of the friends
of the Stuarts. Like other spies, when
he had porformed his despicable oflfice,
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 tliis
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.*
h m.
Jnli^ 8. Sun rises .... 3 50
— sets 8 10
White bind-weed flowers in hedges.
Enchanters' nightshade, and Alpine
enchanters' nightshade, flower
Noble
404
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 9, 10.
Parliamentary Debates, and Early
Newspapers.
July 9, 1662, a question arose in tlie
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
" diurnals."
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 Ilusticus, &c., and one of them,
in 1644, appears under the odd title of
Mercurius Fumigosus, or, the Smokmg
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, 1588, and contains
the following curious article : —
" Yesterday the Scotch ambassador had
a private audience of her majesty, and
delivered a letter from the king, his mas-
ter, containing the most cordial assurances
of adhering to her majesty's interests, and
to those of the protestant religion : and
the young king said to her majesty'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, ptiblished 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 newest
From 1588, to 1622, and during the
reign of James I., few of these publica-
tions appeared ; but ti".e thirty years' war.
and the victories of Gustavus Adolphus,
having excited the curiosity of our coun-
trymen, a weekly paper, called The News
of the 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-
telligencery 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 line Fubtic Intelligencer,
published by sir Roger L'Estrange, 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 coffee-houses
in London 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, oidy 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.*
Juli/ 9. Sun rises
— sets . .
h.
. . 3
. . . 8
m.
51
Q
Milfoil flowers.
Starlings flock together,
till winter.
and socontinu
miv 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
166^7 recorder of Chester. In 1678, the
electors ot that city returned him one of
their representatives in parliament, and
* Chahn'^rs's Life of Ruddimann.
405
TUE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 11, 12.
again in 16BI. Tliough then a young
roan, he was elected speaker of the house
of commons, in both parliaments, and
voted fbr the bill of exclusion. For di-
recting the printing of certain votes reflect-
ing upon some of the peers, tlie duke of
Yurk induced his partisans m the iiouse
of lords to prosecute Williams as speaker,
and, contrary to all expectation, he was
sentenced to pay £10,000. lie 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-
ditary rank was intended as a reward for
prosecuting the seven bishops, against
whom he proceeded with disgraceful viru-
lence. James lost his crown, and the
lawyer his interest, with little prospect 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 1695, for the county of Caernarvon,
And, dying at his chambers in Gray's Inn,
nis body was conveyed to the church of
Llansiiin, in Denbighshire, where a monu-
ment erected to his memory bears a long
encomiastic epitaph in Latin, which i.s
printed in York's " Royal Tribes of
VVales." Ills descendants m 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.
h.
m.
July
10.
Sun
rises
. .
. 3
52
—
sets .
. .
. 8
8
Deadly nightshade ^
Purple garden bindweed > flower.
W'hite Japan lily 3
3UI»1L
July 11, 1787, died, at his house in St.
Maitm's-laiie, Mr. Nicholas Read, sculp-
or. He was Roubilliac's first apprentice.
Roubilliac, 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 cariy 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 working on a very fine
bust, which he would not permit any one
but himself to tou ch, Read was daring
♦ NoblT
enough, in the absence of his master, to
attempt to finish it, which lie either nearly
or quite accomplislied. Uoubilliao, 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
all nations. He succeeded to Roubilliac's
business ; and there are more 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 leason
some short time before Iws death.
I), in.
3 52
8 8
flower.
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
Sulp 12.
The following communication, intended
for the Every Day BooI>, arrived too late
for convenient insertion in that work, and
became mislaid until now, when it is in-
troduced as suitable to the season.
[To Mr. Hone.]
Gedney, July 15, 1826.
Dear Sir,— -Seeing, in the Every Day
Book* a communication from my re-
spected friend, J. P., dated Wisbeach, I
am stimulated to send you something, also.
Moreover, when I consider how indefatig-
able you are in providing such a rich repast
for the public, I am free to confess, we ought
to want no other stimulus. Under date the
12th of June,! yo" gave us, from the
" Mirror of the Months," a short account
of sheep-shearing. Now, sheep-shearing
is seldom concluded, in this neighbour-
hood, till the middle of July; therefore, I
hope what I send you will not be quite
out of date. The accompanying poem
is the extemporaneous production of a
gentlSman who, some time ago, was a
minister of the New Jerusalem Churcl^
Vol. ii. 882. t Ibid, 787.
406
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 12.
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,
with very great respect,
yours truly,
W. Wilton.
Sheep Shearing,
Written at Mr. John E***'s, Gedney.
From days unnumber'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 flock.
Loaded wiih wool, drop to the board prepar'd.
Where round attend the sturdy sons of toil.
With cleanly shears, well whetted, to divide
The fleece from off the loaded, panting, flock
Penn'd in the fold, and all hands fit for work,
Lo ' forth the boarder brings each man his
sheep.
And then the glass goes round ; a health all
drink
To l-.im who owns the flock, and wish success
May crown the honest master's care and pains.
All hands to work ; the perspiration flows
Fast trickling down the shearers' weather'd
faces ;
But, us'd •* to toil and sweat," they labor on,
Unheeding the fatigue. The master sends
Oft round the board tlie strength-reviving
ale.
To cheer his lab'rers ; 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 seu his
mark,
And softly whispers, ** go, for thou art mine V
Oft looks he, pleas'd, upon the weighty fleece.
The pile of wool, and the plump, well-fed sides
Of his fat flock ; revolving in his mind
The needful gain, to pay him for his care.
tJudaunted, then, he thinks him of the day
When rent is due, nor fears the landlord's
face ;
But hears of seizures, gaols, and blun 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
To share the healthful food and smiling ale.
The shearers put aside the flcecing-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 j
(•rapple each other, give a harmlefts fall j
And sli-ow their vicor and activitv.
In feats well-plcasing to the rustic throng.
The evening comes ; and then the master*!
house
Is fiU'd with guests. The neighb'ring poot
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 have 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 ; and wish the owner may
Long share the blessings of increasing flocks.
Feed oft the needy poor, and round diffuse
'J'he gifts with which kind heaven hath fill'd
his hand.
So may each honest grazier e'er be graced
With every earthly good, while he bestows
Upon the poor a charitable share.
And aids the sons of poverty and want !
And be the friend with whom we now re-
gale,
A kind approver of my hasty tale ;
May he thus act, and ever thus be crown'd.
Until his years have run their 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 Prcua
July 6, 1778.
Lady in the Straw.
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
" the ladies bed-straw. Gerard describes
and figures, "yellow ladies bed-straw,"
and " ladies bed-straw with white flowers,"
besides another with red flowers ; the two
latter being used as * cheese-renning," or
rennet, having the vrtue of turning milk
to cheese. He says, the second is " like
unto cleavers, or goose-gra-ss, yet nothing
rough, but smooth and soft, — the whole
plant rampeth upon bushes, otherwise it
cannot stand "
July 12.
h. m.
Sun rises . ; . 3 53
— sets .... 8 7
Pyramidal mullein ^
Marsh Southistle > flower.
Tulip-tree )
Currants of all sorts, raspberries, goose-
berries, and most cherries, are now ripe
and in full season
407
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 12.
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. Ilis
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. Tn
later years, like many wiser heads, he
looked back on these days wiih 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 nevei had even the first rudi-
ments of education. No ancient dame.
Who boasts, unruly brats, 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 couls. 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
408
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 12.
his life in such a place, as he would have
telt towards the man who dared to ques-
tion his love of labor. At eighteen he
married, and had several children, only
one of which survi.ved to his paternal
care. After Michael became a father, no
public-house sign could tempt him to
spend his time and money in waste an i
wassail. He loved company and a glass
of " amber stout," but he loved his home,
and wife and children, better. Wliile
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
he sometimes spent his last shilling it was
in 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
from the sun's rays. He wore a fustian
jacket, with large holland 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
not.ible 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
shoulders 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 gait — 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, but he walked with 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
passed upon Michael, for the sake of
hearing 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 we ?"
After a moment's pause, and a shrewd
cast of the eye, Michael answered, " Well
Sir! you must be buried — and 1 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 niak 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
409
THE YEAR BOOK.-JULY 12.
•ome concern that decorum forbade him
from diffging 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, " Johnny, 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 blessmgs 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
day,aftcr sacking 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 wiih lier ; no, she has not taken that."
Michael's greatest trial befel him after
thb. 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 ihat
had removed his greatest, his last, earthly
ioy. He raided 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
subseouentlv removed.
Michael had now nothing human that
belonged to him to love. He retired to
his cottage, and 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 M'
chad's wife, he was gravely assured by
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 soriow, 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 f xther, to
go to church, and was a staunch church*
410
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 12.
man : an anecdote will verify this. One
Sunday some wanton persons, lounging
about the doors of a respectable dissenting
meeting-nouse, 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 'nstantly 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 co'jld 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
eve, and should have him soon. Observa-
tions of this nature obtained him enemies,
and expressions of real sorrow which he
often manifested on the indisposition of
Ills 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. lie suffered no
week to pass without a thorough renova-
tion of his furniture. On that occasion
tlie antique chairs and tables were regu-
larly rubbed with oil, which, in length of
time, gave them an ebon hue, and the
walls ctnd 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
tiook. Around the apartment, at measured
^iistances^ were his things called pictures,
which he designed for ornament. Pots,
pans, brushes, and unsightly objects, wfiie
stowed away in a snug corner ; 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 times 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 villages with his
sack of coals, was opposed by a woman
in the town, of obstreporous 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 towed 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
411
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 12.
occasions ; for he had become aa object of
real pil^, 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, 182^ as Michael had he-
come incapable of all labor, an appli-
cation was made to him fur the loan
of his churchyard spade ; this he refused,
hut 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. Beinij asked where
he thought he should go after death ; he
answered, " Where God shall be pleased
to take me." On the 5th of April he
died. He had given a few directions
concerning his funeral, which were punc-
tually observed. A " wake" was held in
the house, 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 alone:
the streets, many voices repeated, "poor
Michael," "poor fellow."
Death Watch.
Wallis, in his History of Northumber-
land, vol. i. n, 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,
(Scarabaeus 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 heal-
ing; the upper lip hard and shining. Bj
its regular pulsations, like the ticking oi
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 tlie 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 probal)ly than for hymenoeal
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
scratch.
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.
Put a kettle of scalding hot water injected.
Infallibly cures the limber affected :
The omen is broken, the danger is over.
The maggot will die, and the sick will recover.
Baxter, tn 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
piper pasted to a wall, especially to wain-
scot ; and it is rarely, if ever heard, but
in the heat of summer.*
Epitaph.
In Calstock 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 1 had had physician men.
Brana.
412
THE YEAH BOOK— JULY 13.
Bishop Thomas.
July 13, 1752. Under this date in the
MS. " Observationes Medicse " of Mr. J.
Jones, is a memorandum to this purport:
l)r. 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, '* Fuge omnesme-
dicos, atqiie omnimoda medic anient a." The
other rules related to temperance, exer-
cise, &c. — Quaere. Whether it might 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 make 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 1-.3W 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 squinted most hide-
ously ; " and then, turning his ugly face
in all the squinting 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 Newgale 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 t/iese 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-y:ird; the parson inquired
what his religion was, and was told that
he was a Calvinist : " No," says he, " there
are none but Lutherans in m.y 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, I 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 church-vard."*
Julji/ 13. Sun rises
— sets
h. m.
3 54 .
.86
Henbane flowers abundantly.
Young marigolds in full flower, and
continue to blow through the summer and
autumn.
Toadflax begins to flower in the hedges.
* Gentleman s Magazine,
413
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 14, 15.
aiuip 14.
Sleep.
C»re.ch»nning ileep, thou eascr of all wocn.
Brother to death ; tweelly thyself dispose
On this afflicted prince ; fall, like a cloud,
lo genUe showers ; give nothing that is loud
Or painful lo his slumbers ; easy, sweet.
And, as a purling stream, thou son of night.
Pass by his troubled senses ; sing his pain.
Like hollow murmuring wind, or silver rainc.
Into this prince, gcnlly, oh ! gently f-lidc,
And kiss him into slumbers like a bride.
and Fletcher's Valentinian,
- h. m.
the scenes of nature. He expressed himseU
with unreserved freedom, and many of his
sententious remarks will be long remem-
bered. Being once in the county of Dur-
ham, he was introduced to a person who
cultivated rare plants for his pleasure, and
who, judging of Wilson's abilities by his
humble appearance, challenged him to a
trial of ski'L. In the course of it iie
treated Wilsor., ef whose knowledge he iiad
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, from a neglected
spot, and presented it to his opponent,
who endeavoured to get clear of the difh-
culty by pronouncing it a weed ; Wilson
immediately replied, a weed is a term of
art, not a production of nature, lie added
that the explanation proved his anta-
gonist lo 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-
On the 15lh of July, 1751, died, aged sident at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, was his
fifty-five, John Wilson, author of the " Sy- steadiest patron, and warmest encourager
July 14
Sun rises
— sets
rield thistle
Marsh thistle
Harvest bells
Philadclphian lily
3 55
8 5
^
flower.
St. Switiiin's Day.
Of Ikis samt and his attributes, there
are accounts in the Every Day Book.
nopsis of British Plants,
.ind the 6rst
writer that attempted a systematic ar-
rangement of our indigenous plants in the
English language. He was born in
Longsleddal, near Kendal, in W'estmor-
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 to 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 Linnseus'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 accompauied by lovers of botany and
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 liberty to
examine the plants of the different places
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 endiiiig with
the twenty-sixth. He promised, in llie
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 Linnseus became popular in
Engbnd shortly after Wilson's death, or
his attainments and character would have
become better known and estimated.* .
"n. m
July 15. Sun rises ... 3 56
— sets .... 8 4
Water plantain flowers by ditches ai^.d
Gentleman's Magazme.
414
THE YEAE BOOK.— JULY 16.
The Bottle Cokjlrer.
Mr. Hone,
To render complete your account of
this celebrated hoax, you should insert
the subjoined bantering apology for the
imposter'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 Ilaymarket, 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 whipt into his pocket, and in
great haste and seeming confusion went
out of 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 sodampt his spirits,
that instead of singing and dancing, he is
perpetually crying, and cursing his ill-
fate. But though the tov^'n 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 : —
" Oil the Haymarket Conjurer.
Crowds fill the house before the hour of Gix,
To see this wondrous artist show bis tricks ;
Some laugh, to find their foolish hopes de-
feated ;
And others swear, to be sobilk'd and cheatea.
Yet still will he expertly act his part.
Find him one tavern bottle holds a quau.
The interest excited by the affair u
proved by the numerous pleasantries oi
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 my notice of this hoax-
ing subject with an account of a still
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 only
"Felix Downjumpt/iroaiuw , 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 oaly. 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, Mtiley,
Benassar,Abdailah, Mustapha, and Snckee.
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
burning torches, will jump clean down
Mustapha' s \\\xo2i\., who in an instant, with
equal dexterity, will pass down the throat
of Abdallah, then Abdallah will jump
down that of Benassar, and Benassar
down his brother Muley's ; who, lastly,
notwithstanding he is encumbered with
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 J'
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,
Staffordsktre Moorlands.
February 22, 1831.
415
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 17.
h. in.
Sun lises . . • -^ ''J
— sets .... H 3
Wliile scdum flowers on old walls.
JulyXG
mw 17.
Court Ulvclry, 160C.
On the 17th of July, 1606, Christian
IV., kin^ of Denmark, arrived in England,
op a visit to James I. Sir John Ilaring-
ton, a courtier, describes some of the fes-
tivities ;— " The sports began each day in
such manner and such sort, as well nigh
persuaded me of Mahomet's paradise. We
had women, and indeed wine too, in such
plenty as would have astonished every
sober beholder. Our feasts were magnifi-
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."
Ilarington'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 l>€r, 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 of 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
er brevity. Faith followed her from 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 t'-.e 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 tne court of
James greatly scandalised old Harington,
who could not forbear comparing them
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 we 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 ladles
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 r!ay.*
h. m.
July 17. Sun rises ....
3 58
— sets ....
8 2
Prince's feather "\
Garden convolvolus ^ flower.
Love-lies-bleeding J
Nugae Amiquae, i. 348
416
THE YEAR BOOX.— JULY 17.
MORrwIS DANCER AND MAID MARIAN,
FiiOM Mr. Tollet's Window.
In the celebrated ancient window at
the house of George Toilet, esq., at Bat-
lev, in Staffordshire, there are twelve
panes of glass representing the May-pole
and eleven characters in the morris-dance ;
two of the latter are on this page, and two
others, the fool and the taborer, are given
subsequently : the May-pole has been
already placed in this work, on May-day.
The morris dance^ in which bells are
^/ngled, 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, perhaps, Morian,
from the Italian Morione, a head-piece,
because her head was wont to be gaily
trimmed up. Common people call it a
morris-dance."
The morris-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 ol
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 the May was disused, and
Vol, IV.
417
2 E
THE YEAR BOOK.—JULY 17.
Maid Manan was sole sovereign, or queen
of the May.
Mr. Douce observe?, 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 uniforndy as-
cribe the origin of this dance to the
Moors ; although the genuine Moorish, or
Morisco dance, was, no doubt, very dif-
ferent from ihe 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 morris
dancers usually blackenea their faces with
soot, that they might the better pass for
Moors. Having noticed the corruption
of the " Fyrrhica SallatW of the ancients,
and the unconttpted morris dance, as prac-
tisea in France about the beginning 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., when John 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 Henry VIII., the churchwardens' ac-
counts in several parishes afford mate-
rials that throw much light on the subject,
and show that the morris 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, holy 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 companions were constituent cha-
racters in the morris."
Shakspeare makes mention of an English
whitsun morrice dance, in the following
speech of the dauphin in Henry V.
*' No, with no more, than if wc 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,
Questions and Answers, 1614."
It was my hap of late, by chance.
To meet a country morris dance.
When, chccfest of them all, the foole
Plaicd with a ladle
When every younger shak't his bells — ■
And fine maid Marian, with her smoile,
Shew'd how a rascall plaid the roilc •
But, when the 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 foxc.
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
Through twenty scarfs and napkins, till the
hobby-horse
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 o
circumstantial and mirthful tract, printed
in 1609, entitled " Old Meg of Heue-
lOUDSniRE, for a Mayd Marian, and
Hereford Toione for a Morris Daunce ;
or. Twelve Morris Daunceus in Here-
fordshire of TWELVE HUNDRED YEARS
*0LD."
To proceed orderly, — after the tiile-
page comes the following dedication. —
" To that renowned Ox-leach, Old Hall,
Tabor er of Herefordshire, and to his most
invincible, weather-beaten, Nutbrowni
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 at Saint Quintins, that for thy war-
like musicke mightest haue strucke up at
Bullen, when great Drummes wore broken
heades, thy little continuall Taber, had
beene enough to haue put spirit into all
the Souldiers : Now Tweire-pipe that
famous Southren Taberer with the Cow-
leyan windpipe, who for whuling bath
beene famous through the Globe of the
world, did neuer gain such renowne and
credite by his pipe and Taber, as thou
(old Hall) by striking up to these twelue
hundred yeares Moris-dauncers : Nor art
thou alone (sweet Hull) a most exquisite
Taber-inan, but an excellent Oxe-leach
418
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 17.
and cunst pleasure thy neighoouis. The
people of Herefordsliire are beholding
to thee, thou giuest the men light hearts
by thy Pype, and the women light heeles
by thy Taber : O wonderful Pyper, O
admirable Taber-man, make use of thy
worth, euen after death, that art so fa-
mously worthy in thy life, both for thy
age, skill, and thy vnbruized Taber, who
these threescore yeares has kept — sound
and vncrackt — neither lost her first voyce,
or her fashion : once for 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 terror in the
eares of his enemies: so thou, sweete
Hereford Hall, bequeath in thy last will
thy Velom-spolted 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 ground : Essex men for the hay :
Lancashire for hornpipes : Worcestershire
for bagpipes : but Herefordshire for a
morris dance, puts down, not only all
Kent, but very near (if one had line enough
to measure it) three quarters of Christen-
dom. Neuer had Saint Sepulchres a truer
ring of bells : neuer did any silk-weauer
keep brauer time with the knocke 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 llobin 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 moplh of the year, which last
did take his leave of us, and in that month,
as some report, lords went a Maying, —
the spring brouglit 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 having, for that year, run themselves
well nigh ot ouf breath, wagers of great
gums, according to the fashion of such
pastimes, being won and lost, and tne
sports growing to the end, and shutting
up, some wit, riper than the rest, fed the
stomachs of all men, then and there pre-
sent, with desire and expectation of a
more fresh and lively meeting 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, &c., with
good store of money, to fly u p and down be-
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. Inns
were lodgings for lords : Baucis and Phi-
loemon's house (had it stood there) would
have been taken up for a knight. The
streets swarmed with people — staring 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
being at least two or three hundred.
Amongst many of the better ranks, these
marched with the foremost ; — lord Her-
bert, of Ragland, sir Thomas Somerset,
Charles Somerset, count Arundel's two
sons, sir Edward Swift, sir Thomas MiHe-
may, sir Robert Yaxley, sir Robert Carey,
sir John Philpot, sir Ed. Lewes, sir
Francis Lacon, sir James Scudamore, sir
Thomas Cornwall, sir Robert Boderham,
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
be the leaders, you rhay 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
419
THE YEAR BOOK.-^ULV 17.
untpt creatures, that would be un honor
to him that undertook it, that would be to
Herefordshire a glory, albeit it might
teem 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 d.>es 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
lEdipus 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 Monis and Us officers.
Two musicians were appointed to strike
up, and to give the alarm : the one of
them (^Squire of Hereford) was a squire
bom, and all his sons 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 cut-
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
taborer. « This was old Hull of Here-
ford ; the waits of three metropolitan cities
make not more music than he can with his
pipe 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 iU at eai-«. The wood of tliis old
Hair$ tabor should have been made a
pail to carry water in, at the beginning of
king Edward the sixth's reign : but Hultf
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 lasse*
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."
WhMtrs. — ^The marshals of the field
were \o\xx : these had no great stomach
to dance in the morris, but took upon
them the office of whifflers. 1. Tho-
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 went away with thera
lightly. 3. William Edwards oiBo(\Qx\\\zxci
(his name is in the king's books likewibe),
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 ihey 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 morns-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 Tomkinsy of Lenger-
ren, a gentleman by birth, neither loved
of fortune, nor hated of her; 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),
420
THE YEAR BOOK. -JULY 17.
the father himself havinef now the glass of
nis life running to fill up the full number
of 106 yeares."
2. After him comes, lustily dancing,
John Willis, of Dormington, 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 charitable; for he bestowed his person
upon them, with intent to be ready 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 Phillips, of
Middleton — how nimbly he shakes his
heels ! Well danced old heart of oak ;
and yet, as little as he seems, his courage
is as big as the hobby-horses, for 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
second son may now reckon three score ;
at our lady-day last he made up the years
of his life just 102.
4. Now falls into his right place lUl-
lium 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 Willium Mosse, who,
contrary to his name, had no moss at his
heels. He bears the age of 106.
6. Now cast your eyes upon Thomas
Winnei/, 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
Mad ley, a tailor, and an excellent name
for it ? " In his youth he was a hosier —
born before the dissension between cloth
breeches and velvet breeches, he carries
four score and seventeen summers about
him, and faine would borrow th'ec 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 be 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 hirn follows his fel-
low William Maio of P^vTelton aji old
soldier, and now a lusty laborer and a tal\
man. "Forty years since, being grie^-
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-iiORsr, wanting but
three of an hundred, 'twere time for him to
forget himself, and singbut O, nothing but
O, the hobby-horse isforgoUen ; 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 Maio
MAUJAN,old " Meg Goodwin, 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 the 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-
raarian — at the age of 120.
12. Welcome John Mamlo — 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
g.m 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
taborer, 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 thiee 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 witn white,
girdles witli 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
hobbv-horse and so the maul-ma rian was
421
THE YEAR BOOK.- JULY 1/.
Attired in colours ; tlje whifflers had long
staves, white and red.— After tlie dance
was ended, diverse courtiers thnt won
wagers at (he race, took those colours and
wore (hem in their hats."
The Speech befitre the Morris.
Ye tfTvaota uf 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, wc arc sorry
That Hereford hath no better for y iu.
A horse, a cock, trainsents, a bull,
Primero, gleck, hazard, nmmchance ;
These sporti through time are grown so dull.
As good to see a Morris dance ;
Which sport was promised in jest.
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 ycara on ten men's backs.
And one supplies what other lacks.
Lcnvoif.
This is the Lenvoy (you may gather)
Gentlemen, yeomen, grooms, and pages,
I^ets pray. Prince Henry and his father
May outlive all these ten men's ages.
And he that mocks tliis application.
Is but a knave past reformation.
After this speech, "old Hall struck up,
and the Morris-dancers fell to footinuf,
whilst the whifflers in their office made
room for the hobby-horse."
The narrative concludes, by inquiring
— "And how do you like this Morris-
dance of Herefordshire ? Are they not
brave old youths 1 Have they not the
right footing, the true tread, comely 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
inoving up and down, as if Mawlborne
h:i:s, in the very depth of winter — all
their heads covered with snow — shook
and danced at some earthquake. Shall any
* Another Morris-dance of ancient celebrity*
man lay blame on these good old father^
because at such years they had not spent
all their wild oais] No, we commend
(as Tully sailh) a young man, that smells
somewhat of the old ance in Mr.
Toilet's window is ropresented 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 Dane
For penny wage.
He adds, that his tabor, tabor-stick
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
Tue Hobby-horse, Mr. Toilet is induced
to think, is the king of the May, as figured
in his window, from the crimson fool-
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
tricks of legerdemain, such as the ihread-
425
TUE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 17.
mc; of Ihe neeOle, the mimicking of the
whigh-hie, and the d-^jrgers in the nose,
&c., as Ben Jonson, edit 1756, vol. i. p.
171, acquaints us, and thereby 'explains
the swords in the mari's cheeks. What
is stuck in the horse's mouth I apprehend
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, like the
beautiful blossom of the peach-tree. The
roan's coat, or doublet, is the only one
upon the window that has buttons upon
it, and ihe 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 from 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 Testament,* where this stage-
direction occurs : * Ver goes in and
fetcheth out the IIobby-Horse and the
Morrice Daunce, who daunce about.'
Ver then says: — * About, about, lively,
put your horse to it, reyne him harder,
jerke him with your wand, sit fast, sit fast
man ; Foo/e, hold up your ladle thcre.^
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-nayles.' After-
wards there enter three clowns and three
maids, who dance the morris, and at the
same lirne sing the following song —
Trip and goc, heave and hoe.
Up and downc, to and fro.
From the townc, to the grove.
Two and two, let us rove,
A Maying, a playing ;
Love hath no gainsaying :
8o merrily trip and goc."
Lord Orford, in his Catalogue of Eng-
lish Engravers, under the article of f^eter
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 of the reign of James L,
and exhibit views of the above palace ;
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 dancers, 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-
skin, with a ladle at the end of it, and
with this he is collecting money. The
piper is pretty much 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-home. The latter was termed
un chevalet ; and, if the authority of Min-
shew be not questionable, the Spaniards
had the same character under the name
of tarasca.^^ *
There are otlier 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 Wither," who endured much suf-
fering for publishing his honest thoughts
under the commonwealth, as well as the
monarchy, Mr. Charles Lamb says, —
" VVhelher encaged, or roaming at liberty,
Wither never seems to have abated a jot
of that free spirit which sels its mark
upon 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 prison notes of
Wither are finer than the wood notes of
most of his poetical brethren."f In con-
finement, and at an advanced age, he ex-
pressed his cares and consolations in the
following poem : —
The Contented Man's Morice.
False world, thy malice I espic
With what thou hast designed ;
And therein with thee to comply.
Who likewise are combined :
But, do thy worst, I thee defie.
Thy mischiefs a re confined.
* Brand. '
t Works of Charles Lamb, 1819^ u. 129.
•i2G
THE YEAK
BOOK.- JULY 17.
From me, thou my estate liast torn.
I then should that attain unto
By chcalings me beguiled :
For which I now endeavour ;
Me thoTi hast also made thy scorn j
From my false lovers thither go.
With troubles me turmoiled :
Where friendship faileth never :
But 10 an heritage I'm born.
And, through a few short pangs of woe,
That never can be spoiled.
To joys that last for ever
So wise I am not, to be mad,
For service done, and love oxpres!.
Though great are my oppressions ;
(Though very few regard it;
Nor so much fool as to be sad.
My country owes me bread, at least
Though robh'd of my possessions ;
But if I be debarr'd it.
For, cures for all sores may be had.
Good conscience is a dayly fcasi
And grace for all transgressions.
And sorrow never marr'd it.
1 hese words in youth my motto were.
I\ry grand oi>pressors had a tfiought.
And mine in age I'll make them,—
^ When riches they bereaved.
I neither have, nor want, nor care ;
That then, my ruine had been wrougiit ;
But, they are quite deceived :
When also first I spake them.
I thought tilings would be as they are.
For them the devil much mis-taugh
When that weak snare they weaved.
And meekly therefore take them.
The riches 1 possess this day
If in those courses I had gone
Are no such goods of fortune
VVherein they are employed.
Till such achievements had been won
As kings can give or take away,
Or tyrants make uncertain:
As are by them enjoyed,
For hid within myself are they
Thsy might have wager'd ten to one
Behinde an unseen curtain.
1 should have been destroyed.
Of my degree, but few or none
But proofs liave now confirmed me
Were dayly so frequented ;
How much our vice offendeth.
But now I'm left of every one.
And what small helps our viituos be
And therewith wc'l contented :
To that which God intendcth.
For, when I am with God alone.
Till he himself shall make us free.
Much folly is prevented.
And our defects amendcth.
Then, why should I give way to grief?
Not one is from corruption clear ;
Come, strike up pipe and tabor
Men are depraved wholly.
He that affcctcth God in chief.
Mere cruelties their mercies are
And as himself his neighbour.
Their wisdom is but folly ;
May still enjoy a happy life,
And, when most righteous they app e r.
Although he lives by labor.
Then are they most unholy.
Not me alone have they mads poor.
There is no trust in temp'ral things,
By whom I have been cheated •
For they are all unsteady :
But very many thousands more
That no assurance from them springs.
Are of their hopes defeated ;
Too well I find already ;
Who little dreamed heretofore
And that cv'n parliaments and kings
Of being so ill treated.
Are frail, or false, or giddy.
Tlien, if my courage should be less
All stands upon a tott'rlng wheel.
Than theirs who never prized
Which never fixt abideth ;
The resolutions I profess
Both commonweals and kingdoms reel :
(And almost idolized),
He that in them confideth.
I well deserv'd in my distress
(Or trusts their faith) shall mischiefs feel.
To be of all despised.
With which soe'cr he sideth.
Our sad complaints, our sighs and tears.
This wit I long ago was taught.
Make meat nor clothing cheaper :
But then I would not heed it :
Vain are our earthly hopes and fears.
Experience must by fools be bought.
This life is but a vapor ;
Else they'll not think they need it.
And therefore, in despight of cares.
By this means was my ruin wrought ;
I'll sing, and dance, and caper.
Yet they are knaves who did it.
Though food nor raiment left me were.
When to the ground deprest I was,
I would of wants be dreadless ;
Our mushrooms and our bubbles.
For then I quickly should be there
Whom neither truth, nor wit, nor grace,
But wealth and pride ennobles
Where bread and cloth are needless :
And iu those blessings have my share,
As cruel were as they are base.
Whereof most men are heedless.
And jeer'd me in my troubles.
427
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY i;
And when U»cirh«tc these liad made known.
New mifclucf* it begat me :
For cv'ry ntRcal durty clown
Presumed to nmate mo ;
And M the cur« about tlie town
Grinn'd, Bnarrd, and barked at me.
Since, therefore, 'tit not in my power,
(Though oft I fore-discern ihcm)
To ihun the world'* despights on.', hour.
Thus into mirth I'll turn them ;
And neither grieve, nor pout, nor lowro,
But laugh, and sing, and scorn tUcin.
This fit, at scv'nty years and two,
And thus to spend my hours,
The world's contempt inclines me to.
Whilst she my state devours ;
If this he all that she can do,
A fig for all her powers.
Yet I and shee, may well agree.
Though wc have much contended j
Upon as equa\ terms are we
As most who have oiTendcd :
For, I sleight her, and she sleights mc,
Aud 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 incagcd :
Uu*. I've a God, and so have they
By whom that care's asswaged.
And he that gives us in these oays
New lords, may give us new laws j
So that our present puppet-plays,
Our whimsies, brauls, and gew-gaws.
May turned be to songs of praise.
And holy hallelujahs.
A MoiiRis Dance in Jewellery.
At the accession of CImrles I., there
belonged to the crown " One Suite of
goulde called the Morris DaunceJ* 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 tifty-two pearls ; and
standing about that, were jive Morris
dauncers andTiiherery 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 of the same salt were four
coarse rubies and four coarse diamonds ;
upon the border, about the middle of
the s;dt, 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; [Mc Wyj
had upon the tyre of her head ten rubies,
twelve diamonds, and twenty-nine gar-
nishing pearls.
By a special warrant of Charles I.
dated at Hampton Court, Uec 7, in the
first year of his reign, 1625, a large quan-
tity of gold plate and jewels of great
valup, which had " long continued, as it
were, in a continual descent with the
,rown of England," were transferred to
the Duke of Buckingham, and the Earl
of Holland, Ambassadors Extraordinary
to the United Provinces, who were thereby
authorised to transport and dispose of
them beyond the seas," in such manner
as the king had previously directed these
noblemen in private. The splendid gold
salt called the Morris Dunce, above de-
scribed, jewelled with nine great sapiiires,
six great pearls, one hundred and fifty-
nine small pearls, ninety-nine rubies, and
fifty-one diamonds, 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.*
ORIGINAL POETRY.
Think Not of Me.
Written for a Lady's Album.
f Unpublished.]
'* Go to the courts of the noble and gay ;
Bear beauty's palm from the fairest away ,
Shine thou the 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 !
** W'hy should remembrance thy young bosom
stain ;
Does the cloud on the streamlet for ever re-
main 1
Fadetli it not at the sun's early glow.
And the tide in its purity lovelier flow ?
— Let all thoughts of nie be as fading ana
fleet ;
Think not of me in thy happiness, sweet !
*' Oh, fare-yc-well ! — ^There'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 a-iieu —
— " 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.
• Rvmcr,
428
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 18, 19.
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 f.erved on the trial of the seven bishops
comvnitted to the tower by king James IL,
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.*
h. m.
Jxily 18. Sun rises .... 4
— sets .... 8
Garden persicary flowers.
Tiger lily flowers, and is often in full
flower by this time.
The corn-fields now assume a fine
brown color.
Sulj) 10.
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 Yor 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 his 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 undismayed,
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
• Gentlena in's Magazma.
denomination of the bishop of Thtttord
which is illegal, and not according to the
constitution of this kingdom, which uas
no such bishop." Continuing to dispute
with the court, it caused the hangman to
tear off" his gown as he stood at the 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
catholic 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 ihe 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-
• Noble.
429
THE VEAR BOOK.-JULY 20. 21.
port. " h\ the county of Hereford was
an olil cu>tom at funerals to hire poor
people, who were to take upon them tlie
sins of the party diseased. One of them
(he was a lon^j, lean, ugly, lamentable
poor rascal), I remember, lived in a cot-
tage on Uosse 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, over the corpse, as also a
niazard bowl, of maple, full of lieer (wliich
lie was to drink up), and sixpence in
money : in consideration whereof he took
upon him, ipso facto, all the sins of the
defunct, and freed 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 het 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 IJrecon : 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 flaggon of ale, just after the inter-
ment, were brought to the minister in the
church porch."*
h. m.
lull/ 19. Sun rises . . .41
— sets .... 7 09
Garden levetera in full flower
mHV 20.
On the 20lh of July, 1725, died, Ed-
waid 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 tww hundred
years, of Homme Castle, which was much
damaged by fire in 1605; and destroyed
in the civil wars, 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 fort,
made in the fashion of u half-moon, with
an iron chest containing treasure to a
considerable amount.
Julj/ 20. Sun rises . .
— sets . .
China-aster
Bleeding amarantli
Night-floweting catchfly
h. m.
4 2
7 58
flower.
mw 21.
The TiiiiLSir,
The common song-thrush is somewhat
less than the blackbird : the upper surface
of tlie body is of an olive color, with a
mixture of yellow in tiie wings; the breas*
yellowisli, with dusky spots ; and the
belly white.
There are other sorts of thrushes in
England : —
1 The great thrush, called the missel-
bird, measle-taw, or shrike, in color and
spots agrees with the song-thrush, but is
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.
3 The small heath-thrush, so called
fiom its building upon heatlis and com-
mons, is of a darker color than others of
the thrush kind, and esteemed, by some,
for singing; but none are comparable to
the common song-thrush, which, at the
beginning of spring, sits on high trees and
sings deliciously. When reared from the
nest it learns the songs of the woodlark,
nightingale, and other curious birds.
The male and female are very much
alike in color and shape ; but, in a full-
feathered male, the dusky, or olive color,
is somewhat darker and more glossy than
that of the female. The spots seem
darker and brighter, and rather more white
appears on his belly. Indeed, it may be
observed of all birds, where the colors
are the same in both, that the rnaie exceb
in resplendency of feather."?.
430
THE YEAR BOOK.— JUL V 22.
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
in winter as well as summer.
The thrush breeds nearly as soon as
the blackbird. She builds in woods or
orchards, sometimes 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
with 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 the in-
side, at the top, four inches, and exactly
round; its weight varies from under two
ounces to three and a half. The length
of a full-grown bird, from the point of
the bill to the end of the tail, is nine
inches; 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
welted, and then mixed together. The
nest should be kept as neat and clean as
possible, and, when become foul, the birds
sliould be taken out and put into clean
straw. When they are pretty well fea-
thered, put them in 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 cramp : 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 and 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 wonder
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. : I'll tell you how it happened.
Ye mun ken, when Tarn 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, we sometimes coft a chuckle — we
were doing sae weel. Noo, ye maun
ken, w " n Johnnie began to merchandize,
he be -rt.i at the chuckie first.
h. iH.
July 2L Sun rises . . .43
— sets ... 7 57
Sunflower blows.
Early summer pears ripen
Still? 22.
Execution of an Ordeu.
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 signed by
two magistrates. As the afflicted man
was respectably connected, a gig was
hired for the purpose, and he was per
suaded that he was going on an excursion
Albin.
431
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 22.
of r^*wu-e. In the course of the jour-
wy. However, something occurred to
arouse his suspicions, but he said nothing
on the subject, made no resistance, and
seemed to enjoy his jaunt. VVlien 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. \ ery early in the morning
the lunatic got up and searched the 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, " lie'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,
wliere he found the overseer still fast
asleep. He woke him, and they sat down
to breakfast together ; and he said, " You
qre 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 I," observed the other." « W^ell,"
said the overseer, " I dare say they will
let us look through; however, 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 then began to
fumble in his pockets for the order, while
the lunatic produced gravely it to the
keeper, saying, " This is the man 1 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 tltat a
strait waistcoat was put upon him, and
his head was shaved secundum artem.
Meanwhile the lunatic walked deliberatelv
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 tlie
madman, ** why, I left him at Lancaster
asylum — mad !" This was not far from
the truth ; for the w its of the overseer had
been nearly oveiset 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 asylum
had deprived him of.*
" I AM GOING YOUR WAY.'*
Paul HifTernan, a man of learnin;^ and
ingenuity, •' of the old school," was always
" going your way." To try how far Paul
would go " your way," a gentleman of
his acquaintance, after treating him with
a good supper at the Bedford coffee-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 Limehouse ; when, contriv-
ing to amuse Paul with the certain success
of his tragedy the " Heroine of the Cave "
(afterwards performed for Reddish'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 Ilolborn," — " Well," says Hef-
fernan, *' that's in my way ; " and, upon
leaving his friend at the gate, he took his
leave a second lime, 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.-)-
• Manchester Guardian,
t Polyanthea, i. 175.
432
THE YEAR BaOK.—JULY 22.
"SHOW JAMIE"— AN EDINBURGH CHARACTER.
The following communication was ac-
companied by a drawing from the me-
ritorious pencil of Mr. W, Geiktk, of
Edinburgh, foi the present engraving.
[For the Year Book.]
James Bf.atsgx — for he, in common
wiiu his fellow-townsmen, has a surname,
although it be sunk altogether for the
popular cognomen of Show-Jamie — was
born in t!ie Canongate, out in what year
he knows not: and he isnotquiteconfident
as to the precise day or month, aLhough he
feels more certainty in his own mind with
regard to them, than he does respecting the
year, l^^is he told me the other day, when
Vol. IV
433
2 F
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 22.
I was asking him, with a view lo 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. lie served faithfully 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 steep, (or dreaming of the serjeantat
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 artilleryj
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 ! Jamie had again reckoned without
his host, 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 facuhies
he possessed. Providentially for Jamie
and his native town, his sight, which was
never good, began to fail 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 lie has, summer and winter,
been the gape and gaze of the young,
and the butt of 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 h
rapidly becoming too tame even to yield
to his annoyers any pleasure from teaz-
ing him. lie has a few beetles in small
cases, which he keeps in the leathern box
he is here drawn with ; and witii these, in
very wet weather, he gropes on from door
to door, known and pitied by every body.
His mother is still alive, and " poor
Jamie," — than whom a more harmless
being never lived, — is her only stay.
A. G. J.
Edinburgh, April, 1831.
Old Vauxuall.
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,
I sail'd trinmphant on the liquid way.
To hear the fidlcrs of Spring Gardens 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 cars and eyes.
The motley croud we njcxt with care survey
The young, the old, the splenetic and gay ;
The fop emasculate, the rugged brave,
All jumbled here, as in the common grav^.
The poem contains a satirical accouni
of the company, with particular allusion*;
to certain known individuals. There is
a frontispiece by Sutton Nichols repre-
senting Vauxhall Gardens and orchestra
at that time, with badged waiters carrying
bottles.
July 22. Twilight begins .
Sun rises . . .
— sets . . c
Twilight ends .
Prostrate amaranth flowers
h. m.
21
4 5
7 55
11 39
434
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 23 24.
BnlV! 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 Vioaria
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 more amusinguse
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-
01 pears, ripen.
Sir,
Toot Hills.
[To Mr. Hone.]
Worcester, Marcl.
1, 1831.
T|ie 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 " Toot" 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 ; 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 u 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 the 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, h{:d not established thein-
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 certainlv
appears to have made out a case for the
latter opinion— but, waving this for a
moment, and recurring to Cjesar, 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 Ro?mn Mer-
cury was actually worshipped by that
name before Caesar's arrival in Britain,
but stones being sacred to Mercury among
the Greeks and Romans, and Caesar per-
ceiving that artificial hills, surmounted by
a stone or " simulacrum" were particu-
larly venerated, he thence concluded that
Mercury was the god held in chief esteem.
* London, 8vo. 1828. J. R. Nicholls and Son.
436
THE YEAR BOOK.- -JULY iJ4.
Britain, and especially the " Midsummer
Fires," and olher paj^an relics, prompts me
Mr. Payne lead a paper before the
Royal Society of Literature, in 1829, in
which he identifies the Celtic Teutates
wiih that benefpctor of mankind who,
from the invention of various useful arts,
A-as worshipped in Egypt and Thopnicia,
under the name of Thoth, in Greece as
Hermes, and by th3 l>atins 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 slates 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 Thoih, 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
ftar." Mr. Bowles considers the great
Druidical 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-hiUy
as he thinks from 'Tannris,* 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
tlie 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 Phoe-
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 them ;
and indeed tlie Egyptian Thoth, the Phoe-
• A singular corroboration of this is that in
ComMrall, the " Midsummer Fires" are called
Tan'Tat ! (see Polwhele) from wliich 1 infer
that these fires in other places called Bel- Tan,
flamed from height to height on every ucound
Consecrated to Celtic deities.
nician Taautus or Taute, the Grecian
Hermes, the Itoman Mercury, and the
Teutates of the Celts (so called from tlie
Celtic Du Taith, Deus Taautus) 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 human
victims were offered ; and the god Tuisto
^apparently the same styled Mercury by
the historian), who was born of tlie 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 Tot-h\\\s or Teut-hiWs,
and in various parts of the kingdom are
so called at present. These hills would of
course still remain after the Druidica.
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
equally with the conquered Britons. We
have just observed fromTacitus,thal Tuisio
was worshipped by the Germans ; and
thus it is evident that these Tcut-hiWi
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 V^ialis,was called,
among the Celts, Mercury Teutates, and
both these tumuli were on the sides of
roads. Caesar 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 observe?, of h s own know-
ledge, that many hills on theccast of Dor-
436
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 24.
setsliire are still called Teuts ; and also
menticns a lofty conical mound with a
vast stone on its summit near Wells, now
called Cleeve Tout. In Shaw's Staflford-
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
T/iot/i, Mercury." Tothill Fields, Lon-
don, is derived from the same source,
though the hill has been destroyed, but it
is mentioned thus liy Norden, the topo-
grapher of Westminster in the reign of
Elizabeth — " Tootehill-street, lying on the
west part of this cytie, tuketh name of a
hill near it, which is called Toote-hUl, 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 Ilorseferry-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
list fifteen years both these hills were
covered with a thick wood, which bore
the general appellation of Ilelbury 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-house, known now, and as
far as memory can go back, as the " V^ir-
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 Miihe Toot, near Tewkes-
bury in Gloucestershire, on the summit of
a red marly bunk, 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 ;*
• This agrees with Sir Walter Scott, who in
Lis '' Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft,**
observes — ** In many parishes of Scotland,
there was suffered to exist a certain portion of
land called the * Gudeman's Croft,' which
was never plouglied or cultivated, but suffered
la remain waste, like the Temenos of a pagan
and though surrounded, except towards
the Severn, by enclosed fields 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 against 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.
1 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 Lucan ; and it may be curious for
persons who reside in the vicinity of any
of the places mentioned, to enquire into
any existing relic that may yet remain of
this ancient British superstition.
Hamborough-Teute, Dorset.
Tote-hill, near Hartington, Northumberland.
Tatenhill, near Tutbury, Staffordshire.
Tettenhall, near Wolverhampton, do.
Tottenhall, north of Worcester.
Todenham, west of do.
'i"ewks-hill, near Clebury, Shropshire.
Towbury-hill, near Twining, Gloucestershire.
Tottenham, Middlesex.
Great Totham, near Wilham, Essex.
Totness, Devon.
Toddle-hill, Northumberland. ^
temple. Though it was not expressly avowed,
no one doubted that the Goodman's croft was
set apart for some evil being." Further he
observes, " Within our memory, many such
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 ftwunta called
Shh Bhruaith were respected."
437
THE YEAR BOOK-JULY 24.
Tod L»w, Northumberland, wliicli, %nys the
Gaxetteer, " it a sepulchral monument rum-
posed of three vast •tones," but more pro-
bably in honor of Teulates.
Toot-hall, near Baldock, Herts.
Toot-hill, four miles from Epping. Essex.
Toot-hill, 3 miles from Romscy, Hampshire.
Tooting, Surrey, 6 m. S. W. from London.
Tot-hill, near Stowmarket, Suffolk.
Tote-hill, near Ellesmcrc, Shropshire.
Tot-hill, near Alford, Lincolnshire.
Tot-hill, I mile N.E. from Plymouth, Devon.
Tut-hill,5 miles from Sherborne, Dorset.
Tottenhill,Norfolk,6m.fromMarkct,Downham.
Totley, Derbyshire.
Tittcrstone Clec-hill, Salop.
Tolton-hill, n. Aldcrminster, Worcestershire.
Mount Todden, St. Mary's, in the Scilly Isles.
Tctchill, near EUesmcre, Salop.
Tntyford, do.
Tothury, Gloucestershire
Tcdsmoor, do.
Todneth-hills, Montgomcryshj.\
Tadcaster, Yorkshire.
Tadlow, Cambridgeshire.
Tadmgton, Herefordshire
Taddington, Derbyshire.
Todmorden, near Halifax, Yorkshire
Todmorden, Lancashire.
St. Tudy, Cornwall.
Tutnall, near Tardybig, Warwickhsirc
I'ultington, Norfolk, near Aylsliam.
Tulyford, 5 miles from Oswestry, Salop.
Tothcd, a river in Cardiganshire.
Totman's Row, Totmonslow Hundred, near
Cheadle, Staffordshire.
Toton, 6 miles S.W. of Nottingham
Tottenham Park, Wiltshire.
Totteridge, near High Wycombe, Bucks.
Totteriilge, near Chipping Barnet, Herts.
Tottertou, 3 m. from Bishop s Castle, Salop.
Toltington, 3 miles from Bury, Lancashire.
'I'mton, 4 miles from Southampton.
Toutley Common, Berks.
Toot-Baldon, Oxfordshire, 5 m. from Oxford.
Tew (Great and Little) Oxfordshire.
Tudhoe, Durham.
Tuddenham, Suffolk.
SouUhill, Bedfordshire.
Sout-hill, Cornwall.
Dodenhill, near Tenbury, Worccstersliire.
Dodderhill, near Droitwich, do.
Doddington Wood, Salop, "a perpendicular
height of 122 feet."
Dodbrook, Devonshire.
Doddington — There are twelve places of ths
name m Cambridgeshire, Gloucestershire,
Huntingdonshire, Kent, Lincoln, Northum-
bcrland, Salop, Somerset, and Northampton-
shire.
Dodlcy-hiU, Bucks.
Duddoe, near Berwick-upon-Tweed.
Duddoe-h:lI, Northumberland.
Duddon, Cheghitc.
Dudley hill, Vorkshire
Doddcrhall, Bucks.
Dodcnhall, Warwickshire. — M.nny olhcfi
iLight be adduced if space permitted.
In numerous instances the worship of
Belenus and Teut was united on tliese
Toot-hills, which accounts for Ilelbury-
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,
Hke the Mercurial fieaps of the Greeks."
'. hese 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-tine flamed thrice a year, at
three of the great festivals of the 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 extiacts from Toland, whom I
think you have not quoted, will place
this in a clear light, and conclude my,
perhaps, too tedioiis 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 aflbrd a glorious
show over a whole nation. These fires
were in honor of Beal, or Bealan, 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 BelerCs fre. I re-
member one of those Cams on Favn-
hill, within some miles of Londonderry,
known by no other name but that of
Bealtine, facing another such Cam on the
top of Inch-hill."
" May-day is likewise called La Bcal-
tme by the Highlanders of Scotland, who
438
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 24.
are no contemptible part of the Celtic
offspring. So it is in the Isle of Man :
and in Armoric a priest is still called
Beltc, or the servant of Bel, and priest-
hood Belegieth. Two such fires as we
have mentioned were kindled by one
another on May-eve in every village of
the nation, as well throughout all Gaul
as in Britain, Ireland, and the adjoining
lesser islands, between which fires 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 day of November (Samh-
bhuin) there were also such fires kindled,
accompanied, as they constantly were,
with sacrifices and feasting. These No-
vember fires were in Ireland called Tine
tlach'd-gha, from tlach'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 Druidsy extinguished their fires as
entirely as the Jews are wont to sweep
their houses the night before the feast of
unleaveti bread. Then every master of a
family was religiously obliged 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 sin, 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 irom the 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
:e, and per-
petual opposer of superstition, Marcus
Varro, who, as Servins on tl>e above cited
passage of Virgil affirms, described the
▼ery ointmetit of which the IIirpins
made use, besmearing their feet 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
Twilight ends . . . 11 21
Melun cresses bear seeds.
Strawberries decline, except the wood
ftrawberry, which bears all the summer.
3JU»l) 25.
lloMAN Remains near Eastciieap.
[To Mr. Hone]
City, June 10, 183L
Sir,— Claiming the privilege of a ''Con-
stant Reader," I venture to intrude upon
/our 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
•he New London Bridge. 1 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.
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. 1 am also well
convinced that none have been found here
posterior to the time Nerva. Thp follow-
ing is a brief list of tlie 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 Netva (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, on the north side of Eastcheap, two
large brass coins, much corroded ; one of
these bore the head of Domitian, 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 (f a grape jar from a scoun-
drel who assured him »hat 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 William
ILL, 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 C 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 com which accompanied this commu-
nication is a Vespasian, inscri'eil on the re-
verse ** AUGUSTI." It is very much corroded,
especially at the edge, which, in great part, is
reduced to the thinness of writing paper.}
440
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 25.
"NEW POTATOES I"
If this were a review, large extracts
might be takeri from the very amusing;
"Legends and Stories of Ireland, by
Samuel Lover, R. 11. A., with etchings
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
habits of a large class of characters, ot
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
iheir taste, they can leave it unread, rather
than blame me for too much fidelity in
my outline. So here goes at a sccna, as
the Italians say,:" — And here follows Mr.
Llover's ^* scena" preceded, as 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
venr, in Dublin. —
" My New Pittayatf.es !"
[Enter Katty, with a gray cloak, a dirty cap.
and a black rye ; a sieve of potatoes on her
head, and a ** thrifle o' sper'ts" in it. Kat-
ty meanders down Patrick-street. J
Katty. — "iV% new Pittaj/atees / — Mj/-
a-new Pittayatees ! — My new''' —
(Meeting a friend.)
Sally, darlin', is that you?
Sally. Throth its myself; and what's
the malther wid you, Katty?
Kat. 'Deed my heart's bruk cryin'
" iVeiy pittayatees" cry in' afther that
vagabone.
'Sttl. Is it Mike?
441
THE YEAR BOOK.-JULY 25.
Kat. Throth il5 himself indeed.
Sat. And what is it he done ?
Kat. Och ! he ruined me with his
* I^ew pittayatees" -with his goins-an
—the owld ihing, my dear —
Sal. Throwin* up his little finger, I
suppose?*
Kat. Yis, my darlint: he kera home
ih' other night, blazin' blind dhrunk,
cryin* out " New p'Utay-a-tees !"
roarin* and bawlin', that you'd tliink he'd
rise the roof aff o' the house.
** Bad look atiind 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" * Nexo p'Utayalees T
•* your fill iv a lickin', if ever you got it,"
says he.
So with that, I knew the villian was
mutvalhered ;\ let alone the heavy fut o'
the miscrayint an the stairs, that a child
might know he was done for " Mj/
new pittHt/atces J'* Throth he was done
to a turn, like a mutton kidney.
iS«/. Musha ! God help you, Katty.
Kat. Oh, wait till you hear the ind o'
my ** Neio pittuyutees f o' my
throubles, and it's then you'll open your
eyes " My new piltuyatees !''
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
10 take care o' my " Nexo pittayatees /'*
to take care o' myself; so with that,
I put the bowk on the door, betune me
and danger, and kep' listenin* iit 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 1: says he
" New pittayatees .'*' *' let me in," says
he, " you va?abone," (swarein' by what I
would'nt mintion,) »< or by this and that,
I'll matsacray you," says he, " within an
inch o' " New pittayatees .'" with-
in an inch o' your life,' says he.
« Mikee, darlint," says I, soolherin*
him —
Sal. Why would yau call sitch a 'tar-
nal vagabone, darlint?
Kat. My jew'l, did'nt I tell you I
thought it best to soother him wiili a
" New pittayatee /" 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 him say the word ; and with that
I put my hand an " My neio pittaya-
tees.
-an the latch o' the door, to
• Geuing drunk.
t Intoxicated.
purvint it from slippin'; and he ups and
he 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," s.ays he. Think
o' that, Sally, dear, t' abuse my relations.
Sal. Oh, the ruffin.
Kut. Dirty breed, indeed ! By my
sowkins, they're as good as his any day
in the year, and was never behoulden to
" New pittayatees r to go abeg-
gin' to the mendicity for their dirty
" New pittayatees r their dirty vvash-
in'so'pots, and sarvants' lavins, and dogs'
bones, all as one as that cruck'd disciple of
his mother's cousin's sisther, the ould
dhrunken asperseand, as she is.
Sal. No, in troth, Katty dear.
Kat. Well, where was 1 ? Oh, aye, I
left off at " New pittayatees T' 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 4he 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 r cryin' out, "bad
luck attind you," says he ; " 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 I <* 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 ihe pace, yo»i vagabone," says
he ; and with that, he hits me a lick av a
" New pittayatee r a lick av a
itick he had in his hand, and down I fell
442
THE lEAR BOOK.— JULY 25.
(and small blame to me), down I fell an
the flure, cryin* " New pittai/aiees .'"
cryin' out " Murther! murther !"
Sal. Oh, the hangin'-bone villian !
Kat. 01), that's not all ! As I was
fisin', my jevv'l, he was goin' toisthrek me
agin ; and with that, I cried out
" New piltayatees r 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 that,
you flag-hoppin' jade," says he. (Think
o'that, Sally, jew'l — misdoubtin' 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, putlin' 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
tlie babby. (I thought the life id lave
me.) And, iv coorse, the poor babby,
that never spuk a word, began to cry
" New pittai/alees .'" began to cry,
and roar, and bawl, and no wondher.
Sal. Oh, the haythen, to sthrek the
child.
Kat. And, my jewel, the neighbours
in the flure below, hearin' the skrimmage,
kem runnin' up the stairs, cryin' out
" New pittuyutees ! " cryin' out,
" Watch, watch! Mikee M'Evoy," says
they, "would you murther your wife, you
villian?" "What's that to you?" says
lie; "isn't she my own?" says he, " and
if I plase to make her feel the weight o'
my ^^ New piltayatees r 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 piltayatees !"
'twill be betther for your health, I'm
thinkin'," says he; and with that he look-
ed cruked at thim, and squared up to one
o' thim — (a poor definceless craythur, a
tailor.)
" Would you light 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 'II 40 for Uie
Present writin'."
And with that, Mikee was goin' to hit
him with a " New piitoyatee .'" a
lift-hander ; but he was cotch owld iv,
before he could let go his blow ; and who
should stand up forninst him, but
" My new piltayatees /^' but the tailor's
wife ; (and, by my sowl, it's she that's the
sthrapper, and more'sthe pity she's thrown
away upon one o' the sort;) and says she,
" let 7}ie at him," says she, " it's 1 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 piltayatees J" 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
Sill. Oh, my blessin' on them.
Kat. And with that, one and all, they
began to cry " New pittayalees .'"
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 rutfin ; and
then they left me, cryin' " New pil-
tayatees J"c ryin' afther the vagabone ;
tiiough the angels knows well he wasn't
desarvin* o' one precious dhrop that fell
from my two good-lookin' eyes — and,
oh ! but 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' tke flure cryin' " My new piltaya-
tees!^^ cryin' and roarin', and the
poor child, with his eye knocked out, in
the corner, cryin' " New piltayatees!'^
and, indeed, every one in the place was
cryin' " New piltayatees! 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 piltaya-
tees .'" to see the daycent room raclc'd
and ruin'd, and my cap tore aff my head
into tatthers, throth you might riddle bull-
dogs through it; and bad luck to the
443
THE YEAR BOOK.— JULY 26.
htp'orth ht left me but a few " New
Vittamteetr a few coppers; for the
raorodin* thief spint all his " New
pUtrtvateet !" all his wages o' the whole
week in roakin' a haste iv himself; and
God knows but that comes aisy to him ;
and divil a thing I had to put inside my
fece, nor a dhrop to d brink, barrin' a few
" ^^ew piUayateet /" a few grains
o' lay, and the ind iv a quarther o' sugar,
and my eye as big as your fist, and as
black as the pot (savin' your presence),
and a beautiful d sh iv " New pUtay-
utcesT dish iv delf, that I 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 pittuyateesr
an cryin* a sieve-full o' pratees, or
screechin' a lock o' savoys, or the like.
But I'll not brake yoiir 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 the
wake with " New pittai/atees !"
neilh his purlection ; 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 pittaj/utees T
pray for all manner o' bad luck to atlind
thatvagabone, Mikee M'Evoy. My curse
light an him this blessid minit; and
[A voice at a distance calls, *' Potatoes T]
Kat. Who calls? — (Perceives her cus-
tomer.) — Here ma'am. Good-bye, Sally,
darlint — good-bye. '* Ncto pUtay-a-
tees!"
\Exit Katty by the Cross Poddlc.]
July 25. Twilight begins
Sun rises . .
h. m.
47
4 8
— sets .... 7 52
Twilight ends . . . 11 13
Snapdragon, or toadflax, numerous
cultivated sorts, blowing in gardens
throughout July, and the next two months.
miV! 26.
London Register Office.
In the infancy of newspapers, the 26fh
of July, 1656, the " Perfect Picture of
State 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-strect
neer Blackwell-hall, London. There arc
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 fiirm any
Land by Lease or yearly Rent in any
pait of England, or such as desire to be
boarded by the year or otherwise, or to
take lodgings in, or Couiitry Houses neer
the City of London. Or such as shall at
any time want able and fit Soliciters 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 Lodi;-
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
[For the Year Book.]
In 1660 we find Pepys saymg, "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 nine-
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.
444
THE YEAR BOOK.-JULY :27.
Again •. " I saw oiter-hunting with the
king." Then : " To St. James's Park,
where I saw the Duke of York playing
at pelemele, the first time that ever I saw
the sport." In 1662 " to Whitehall
garden, whf^re lords and ladies are now at
bowlesy In January of the same year,
Evelyn sa^'s, *' his majesty as usual opened
the revells of the night by throwing the
dice himself in the privy chamber. The
ladies also played deep, I came away
wlien the Duke of Urmond had won
£1000, and left them still at passage,
cards, &c. &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
slidcfs on the new canal in St. James'f
Park, performed before their majesties by
divers gentlem.en 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-pms." In December he
" saw the king playing at tennis," and
went " to Shoe I.ane to see a cock-
Jighting." In January following, Pepys
notes his going " to St. James's Park
seeing people play at pell mell (pall mall)
— where it pleased mc 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 shuffleboard, eat cream and
good cherries;" and in July " my lady
Wright, and all of us, 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 bull-batting ; — it
being a famous day for butcherly sports,
or rather barbarous cri>elties." 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
Ri<:hardson the famous fire-eater shewing
his feats."
J. S.
Morley, near Leeds.
h. 1)1.
56
4 10
7 50
11 4
Julj/ 26. Twilight begins
Sun rises . .
— sets
Twilight ends .
Holy hock flowers.
Perennial sun-flower flowers.
Plies numerous and troublesome.
miV 27.
27ih July, 1747, died the rev. Nicliolas
Tindal, a translator and continuator cf
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 Colbourne, 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 grarn-
matically, and wrote a compound of both.
Tindal published Morant's translation of
De Reausobre 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, the
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 or my Eye."
It is common with vulgar women, while
quarrelling, for one to exclaim to the other,
" You cannot say black's the white of rny
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
445
THE YEAR BOOK,-JULY 28.
$tition concerning an evil eye, ihat is, an
enckanling or oetoitching eye. In con-
ftrmalion of this he cites the following
passage from Scot's " Discovery of Witch-
craft," p. 291. **Many writers ajjree
with Virgil and Theocritus in the effect
of bewitching eyes, affirming that in
Scythia there are women called Bithia,
having two balls, or rather Blackxy 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
Brinkburne 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 * fcfcc/c-fasling.' "
h. m.
July 27. Twilight begins ..13
Sun rises . . . . 4 11
— sets .... 7 49
Twilight ends . . . 10 57
Garden Chrysanthemums flower.
Purple willow-herb flowers.
0UI» 28.
Oliver Cromwell.
28th July, 1655. — In the appendix to
Mr. Scalcherd'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 Highness, 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 f
'< Shcweth,
" 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
son who is tractable to learn, and not
having wherewitli to bring him up, by
reason of their present low state occa-
sioned by the public service aforesaid,
" Humbly prayeth — 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.
** Wc refer this Petition and Certificate to
the Commissioners for Sutton's Hospital, July
28, H555."
With the above Petition, Cromwell
sent to his secretary the following
Letter.
" You received from me, thio 28ih
instant, a Petition of Margery Beacham,
desiring the admission of her son into the
Charter-house. I know the man, wlio
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 reference 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, ox feather m my cap for crowds to
gaze at, or kneel to ; but 1 have power
and resolution 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 m 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 — ' «
feather in a haf — as little as they did :"
and, from Ludlow's Memoirs, ii. 586,
that ** Cromwell said, it was but * afcather
in a man's cap,' and therefore he wondered
446
THE YEAE BOOK.— JULY 29, 30, 31.
that men would not please the children,
and pernr.it thern to enjoy the rattle/' *
dy 28. Twilight begins .
Sun rises . . .
h. m.
. 1 9
. 4 13
sets . .
Twilight ends . .
Mountain-asli flowers.
. 7 47
. 10 51
^ SUI» 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.
July 29. Twilight begins . . 114
Sun rises .... 4 14
sets .... 7 46
Twilight ends . . . 10 46
Roses and pinks go out of flower.
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 Blackfriars' Wynd, and avow-
ing revenge drew his sword ; Sir William
standing upon his defence with his back
to the wall, Bothwell thrust his raoier
• Scatcherd's History of Morley, 333 ; — in
which work are many original particulars re-
specting Cromwell's officers, and his engage-
menu 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 of
Bothwell on this occasion, though it does
not appear 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. *
juli^ 30. Twilight begms
Sun rises . .
h. m.
1 17
4 iQ
— sets . . . . 7 44
Twilight ends . . . 10 43
T/h-lte mullein, and most of this species
in full flower.
m\t> 31-
Eton Election Saturday.
[For the Year Book.]
This 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 Vegulates 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 language, 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
now W. R. at election, that is, the initials
then put up are those of the ruling mo-
narch.
PiLGARLIC.
May, 1831.
Mathematics.
A Challenge to all England.
Jf any man can resolve the following
problem, let him send his answer (postage
paid) to me, and I will inform the public.
N. B. I will not have an interview with
any one.
Problem. — To divide any given number
• Chambers's Traditions of Edinburgh, i. 121.
447
THE YEAK BOOK.— JULY 31.
(■ay 2|) into ten different numbers, as
follow : —
The two first numbers are to be sucU,
that, if you 5quare 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
Eroduct add the square of the lesser num-
er, it will equal the square of tiie
greater number. The next two numbers
are to be such, that, if to the square of
their sum, you add the square of the lesser
number, it will equal the sum of the two
multiplied by the lesser; to the double of
%vhich 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
number, it will double the sum of the
squares of the greater numbers ; more-
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, Northampton-street, Clerkenwell,
Tuesday, 7th Dec, 1830.
The preceding notiro 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. — July 1831.
July 31.
Forster'« hawkweed flowers.
Dragon-flies common about waters.
h. ni.
Twilight begins .
. 1 20
Sun rises , . .
. 4 17
sets . . .
. 7 43
Twilight ends . .
. 10 40
Babies isr tiif. Eyes.
Lovers looking into each others eyes,
and seeing reflections of tlieir 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-
millas wooing his mistress, tells her, " We
will ga to the dawnes, and slubber up a
siUibub ; and I will look babies in your
eyes." Ilerrick, 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 chrystal nunneries ;
Notwithstanding, love will win,
Or else force a passage in.
llie 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.
Keflections— Written in a Book or
Mjscellaneous Articles.
How like the map that marks my varied way
Through life, tlicse pages seem !
speckled piece — a mix'd display
Of sadness, dulness, passion, pain, and pla
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 mc how to grieve.
Here love's enchanting strains., whose stops
and bars.
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 cf
ecstacies.
Like these mix'd pages I can read my life,
In fancy hear its echoes play —
Its hurried chords — its passion's strife —
Thos« sweet deceptive flights with which
'twas rife.
Transient as sound, but mark'd on rncmor/
448
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST.
^^L'
AUGUST.
The fields are all alive with sultry noise
Of labor's sounds, and insects' busy 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 gone,
Heaping the swaths that rustle in the sun •
Clare's Shepherd's Calendar,
Vol.. IV.
449
2 G
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST.
A dc!«cription of the glories of this
month— the forerunner of bounteous au-
tumn-would be a vohime of splendid
oeauties: it is, for the most part, ex-
ecuted by the " British Naturalist;" but
oefore recurring to its pages, it may
be proper to extract a few impressive sen-
tences from an article in Blackwood's
Magazine for Ju'iy, 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 ever having learned it ;
they were just beginning perhaps to ac-
quire 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
fallen on the whole face of nature ; and
that the time for those intuitions was
gone for ever. But the science of seeing
has now 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
finger of God in the little humming-bird
murmuring round a rose-bush, as in that
of *the star of Jove, so beautiful and
large,' 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 sublime va-
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 — iheBritish Naturalist — '' for one
or two striking peculiarities of high sum-
tmer, a paragraph on a phenomenon of
heat is first extracted ; and then another on
he " 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 c.ilm
the surface of the water in the offini; he.
comes OS smooth as glass, and tlie vessels
" loom out," as if lliey 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 ilie air-suspended vessels throw
their whole inverted reHections upon the
water, as if two ships, the counterparts ot
each other, were susj)ended keel to keel,
or supported on the top of the masts.
Sometimes, also, a ship wliich is in reality
wholly hidden by the convexity of the
sea, will appear m the air, in ;in inverted
position ; sometimes a second ship will
be formed immediately over the first, but
always reversed with res[)ect to it ; and
these will sometimes be in contact, some-
times at some distance from each other,
and sometimes the lower ship that li;is
the keel uppermost will seem as if only a
part of her masts and sails were above
the horizon. In particular states of tlie
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 are 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
an 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 ruffles its surface, or ihat
one cannot see the reflection of one's face
450
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST.
in a piece of black broad-cloth or velvet,
in tli-e 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, vvliich has much the same effect as
wind. 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 the fall has much altitude, falls
in drops and pencils, all sides of which
come 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 vegetation in a perpetual
shower, the air, which descends and con-
denses over the falling water, hurries
towards the warmer surface 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-
* British Naturalist, ii. 281.
ferent appearance on vegetation from that
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 upon the roots, and therefoie will
continue to show vigorous leaves after
the trunk is much more hoUoweJ and
consumed by age. Those places that are
most favorable to vegetation 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 pe-
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 instances
where the action of the st.eam 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 iti
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 dripping
rocks, and its caverned banks, will contain
a rich cabinet of botany and zoology,
where a stranger would nev'> think of
looking for them.
In so far as animals aie concerned,
there are also some peculiar advantages in
the vicinity of a cascade, especially 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 perma-
451
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST.
uent found. Sailors can converse to-
gether amid the roaring of the wind and
wares, 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 diflficulty 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 rugged
trees by the side of a waterfall, to which
we had escaped from the intense heat of
tlie 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.
Wordttvorth
The minds of very youn^^ children me-
ditate feelingly upon death and immorta-
lity, and those inquiries, which we all know
they are perpetually making concerning
the 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
runnmg 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 i it in progress?
what receptacle can co.itain the mighty
influx?'' And (he spirit of t! e answer
must have been, though the word might
be sea or ocean, accompanied perhaps
with an image gathered from a man, or
from the real object in nature — these
n.ight have been the letter, but the spirit
of the answer must have been a$ 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-
• Braui.
Verses by Lorl Byron.
Written at Seventeen.
I would I were a careless child.
Still dwelling in my Highland cave.
Or roaming through the dusky wild.
Or bounding o'er the dark blue wave :
The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride
Accords not with the freeborn 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 souna •'
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 must 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 fled
How cheerless feels the heart alone.
When all its former hopes are dead I
Though gay companions, o'er the bowl.
Dispel iwhile the sense of ill.
Though pleasure stirs the maddening sou..
The heart — the heart is lonely stiL.
How dull ! to htar the voice of those
Whom rank or chance, whom wealth o:
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,
W^here boisterous joy is but a name.
And woman ! lovely woman, thou !
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 I resign
This busy scene of splendid woe.
To make that calm contentment mine
Which virtue knows, or seems to know
452
THE YEAR BOOK. -AUGUST 1.
Fain would I fly the haunts of men,
I seek to shun, not hate mankind j
Itly breast requires the 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.
Alimentauy Calendar.
The oyster season commences on the
fifth of August, when there is a large
supply from Feversham, Wh instable, 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 otiier
mill-streams and rivulets in Surrey and
Sussex. Turbot, wlwting, 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 in
great abundance and variety.
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 month.
Lettuce ; the white cos, brown Bath, or
Capuchin, for bte autumnal supply, or
to be transplanted next month to stand
the winter: — sow some early.
Cauliflower ; between the 20th day,
and the close.
Plant
Lavender, rue, rosemary, sage, hyssop,
and r/iarjonim in slips.
Transplant
Broccoli, at the beginning, and again
at the end of the month, for early and
later spring use.
Cabbage ; Savoys, for use in November
and December.
Brussels sprouts, and Borecole, at th«
commencement, and again towards the
end of the month.
Celery, into trenches for blanching,
once or twice : and water it.
Endive, a full crop in the second, ana
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 full
blossom.
Gather
Seed-capsules, or pod.s, 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 iiave very large heads.
Earth up,
In dry weather, celery plants in the
trenches; and repeat the earthing two or
three times during the month.
J)estror/
Weeds every where : remove litter, and
preserve neatness and order.
^U0U0t 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 20lh, and both 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.
h. m
August 1. Day breaks . . 1 23
Sun rises . % . 4 18
— sets . . 7 42
Twilight ends . . 10 37
Thorn-apple in full flower
Berries of the mountain ash fully ripened.
453
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 2, 3.
^U0U0t 2.
On thelnd of August, 1711, was bom,
.n Dean ulreet, Soho, Mr. Charles Rogers.
He was sent to a private school near the
mews, where he made no progress ; but,
being ptaced in the custom-house, he rose
to become ^he principal of his department.
He employed his leisure hours in culti-
Tating 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, lie
filanned and executed " A Collection of
*rints 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. Tne 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. lie wrote some
antiquarian papers in the " Archaologia,"
and a letter to Mr. Astle, on the early
engravings on wood used in the printing
of block books, before moveable types
were 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 i)eriod 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.
Youn
g starlings, of the year's brood, fly
in large
flocks.
* Gentleman's Maguiuc.
aU0U0t 3.
On tlie 3d of August, 1721, dieu Grin
lin Gibbon, un eminent sculptor, and
carver in ivory and wood, who was dis-
covered in privacy at Deptford, and raised
to celebrity by John Evelyn. 1G70-1.
Jan. 18. "This day," says Evelyn, " I first
acquainted his majesty with that incom-
parable young man, Gibbon, whom 1 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 — .1 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 be
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 £lOO
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, I
acquainted the king, and begged that he
would give me leave to bring him and
his 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 be was astonished at the curi-
osity of it; and having considered it a
454
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 3.
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 r^ore tlian an ass or a
monkey, and this incomparable artist had
his labor only for fiis 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 ihe 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
SirJosefFWilliams[Williamson]again you
wold be pleasd to speack to him that hee
wold got me to carve his Ladis sons hous
ray Lord Kildare, for I onderstand it will
[be] very considerabell, ar If you haeu
Acquantans with my Eord to speack to
him his sealf, and 1 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
Saivant,
G. Gibbon."
London, 23d March, 1682.
Gibbon's best sculpture may be seen
in the monument of Noel, Viscount Cam-
den, in Exton Church, Rutlandshire ; 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
oris'inal 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, ani 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
pamter 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-
partment 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 th :
Exchequer, whose picture he drew, an I
thought it the best of his portraits. He
died soon after, at the age of thirty-six,
and was buried at St. Martin's, October
28, 1646.
I
455
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 4,
Dobson was the first artist who required
persons! who sal for portraits, to pay half
the price of the picture down. He de-
vised the pncticewhen overwhelmed with
buRJness at Oxford.
h. m.
ugutt ^' Day breaks
. 1 31
Sun rises . .
. 4 U2
— sets . .
. 7 38
Twilisjht ends .
. 10 29
Winter cherry flowers.
Hollyhocks fully blown.
g|ugu0t 4.
August 4, 1787, died, aged 78, major
general .lohn Salter, 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
•erjeant, and soon after was so pleased
with his voice, and manner of giving the
word of command, that he presented him
with a commission in the same regiment.
This promotion gave great offence to the
Other officers, who refused Salter their
countenance. Thus circumstanced, he
waited upon the royal duke, and stated
Ihe 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 Ligonier 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
b 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 high-
ness'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 him.self to tiie 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. Tlie 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. Fraser, the
commander-in-chief, called out " Step
out old Serjeant." Sarjant, who was
uncommonly tall, being apprehensive that
by so doing he should throw the battalion
men into disorder, though 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,
rather chose to hazard consequences to
himself than the least disgrace to his re-
giment, and the general, imagining his
command would be obeyed, directed his
attention elsewhere ; Sarjant was so mor-
tified by this public rebuke that chagrin
strongly marked his countenance. His
captain mentioned the matter to lord
Paget, the colonel of the regiment, who,
with the rest of his officers invited the gen-
eral to dinner, and gave such a character
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 a silver-mounted
sabre from his belt, and said, "You will
accept of this and wear it for my sake,
as a token of the great opinion I enter-
tain of you as a soldier, and a non-com-
missioned officer;" and, turning to Lord
Paget, tlie general added, " This sabre is
not agreeable to the Staffordshire uniform ;
and therefore I beg your lordship will
give the old gentleaian leave to wear it
whenever he pleases." His lordship
assented ; and as a further mark of esteem,
vihen he quitted the command of the
regiment soon after, he directed Sarjant
to draw tipon him annually for twenty
guineas.*
Another Serjeant.
In the year 1788, died at Lichfield, aged
sixty, Serjeant Sarjant, of the grenadier
h. m.
August 4. Day breaks . . 1 35
Sun rises ... 4 24
— sets ... 7 36
Twilight ends . . 10 25
Tansy flowers.
* 'Geats.' Majraaiue.
45G
THE YEAE BOOK.— AUGUST 4.
AN EFFIGY
In Camberwell Church,
Surrey.
■ ** sheathed in steel,
" With belted sword ; and spur on
heel."
The south aisle in Camberwell
Church was the burial place of the
Scotts, a family of some considera-
tion in the parish, two or three cen-
turies ac^o.
The "man in arms" here figured
represents F.dward Scott, who died
29th September, 1 537. In Cough's
" Sepulchral Monuments" (vol. ii.
p. 386,) 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 undet
the head of sepulchral effigies 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, wilh Itia helmet for a pil-
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 arms of Montacute, having
a helmet under the head." Richard
Lord Poynings (1387) wills, that
a stone of marble be provided with
an escutcheon of his arms, and a
helmet undet- his head.
The yeomen in Branksome hall
, •• lay down to rest.
With corslet laced,
Pillowed on buckler cold and hard."
457
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 5, 6.
Augti0t 5.
GirsET Flneral.
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
fcarth in Highworlh church-yard, attended
by a great concourse of spectators, at-
tracted 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, lie 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 Waller 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
Highworti? church-yard, when, \\ke a
second Cassandra, " big wiih 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 wouh'
not purchase a year of such hopes for tli«
trifling sum of half a crown ? — besides,
even in this case, the verifications of her
predictions were only in unison with those
of our great High Priest of Astrologers,
Francis Moore, who wonderfully contrives
that every thing shall come to pass " the
day before, or the day after." It should
have been stated before, that she made
her mortal exit in a lane in the vicinity of
Highworth, and that, in the coffin 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 wb.ich 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 den-ise 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
benefit of their services in the next world.
It is said that a memorial is to be erected
to her memory with the following simple
epita[)h : —
" 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 liigh 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.
igust 5. Day breaks
. 1 38
Sun rises . ,
4 25
— sets . .
. 7 35
Twilight ends .
. 10 22
Lady's seal bears berries.
^U0U0t 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 mf.ny with change of place, and their
453
THE YEAR BOOK.-AUGUST 7.
succession so vapid with 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
ev^ite, 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 aj;d the Poet.
Poet.
Oh ! golden, golden summer.
What is it thou hast done ?
Thou hast chased each vernal reamer
With ihy fiercely burning sun.
Glad was the cuckoo's hail ;
Where may we hear it now ?
Thou hast driven tlie nightingale
From the waving hawthorn bough.
Thou hast shrunk the mighty river ;
Thou hast made the small brook flee
And the light gales faintly quivci
In the dark and sliadowy 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 com.
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 ?
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 j
I have fill'd each fruitful place
With a plenty that runs o'er.
♦ British Naturalist, ii. 383.
There is treasure for the garner j
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 I return.
Howiti.
August 6.
h. m.
Day breaks . . 1 4'i
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.
^U0U0t 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-tree>, said to have been
planted by cardinal Pole, about 1558, or
nearly 260 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 nail«
459
of
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 8.
and shreds to that heiulit. 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-6g ; but tiiere was none
upon the tree when tiie tourists saw it.
They remarked that fruit seemed to have
failed very generally in that year.
I^nibeth palace garden usually pro-
duces abundant crops of very fine pears,
apples, plums, and peaches; bu!,*on ac-
count of the unfavorable stat»> 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 feel high,
which, in favorable seasons, seldom failed
to produce large panicles of flowers. A
very lofty American plans-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
teste displayed in preserving an ancient
walnut-tree" (juglans 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 of the living
part ; and the whole seemed to us to
accord well with the venerable antiouity
of the archiepiscopal palace."
My Lady in a Garden.
Within this garden here.
This happy garden once, wliile I was happy.
And wanted not a free access unto it ;
1, without control, alone might spend,
With sweet Artemia, in these fragrant walks.
The days' short-seeming hours ; and ravished
hear
}]cr sweet discourses of the lily's whiteness,
'I he bhishing rose, blue mantled violet,
l*ale dutTodil, and purple hyacinth ;
With all the various sweets and painted glories
Of Nature's wardrobe ; whiclk were ail etlips'd
Ky her diviner beauty.
Th.os. Mot/, 1G17.
h. m.
August 7.
Day breaks
. 1 46
Sun rises . .
. 4 29
— sets . . .
. 7 31
Twilight ends .
. 10 14
French marigold flowers.
Amarantlrs 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 to
Dover, observed — '* The grand and massy
ruins of Rochester Caslie presented us
with a botanical rarity, during a very
hurried visit which we paid to it; in
several places the mouldering walls ar"»
covered with single red carnations (dian-
thus caryophyllus), which were now in
flower. We should have been apt to
consider these as accidental wanderers
from some neighbouring garden ; but siv
James Edward Smith, in his Flora Bri-
tannica, has not scrupled to describe the
plant as indigenous to England, and to
mention this castle as a principal habitat J"
They spent the afternoon at Canterbury,
greatly pleased with the cleanliness of the
streets, with the beauty of the terrace-
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 been spared, both as an orn"'-
ment and as indicating the antiquity o,'
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-
4G0
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 9.
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 mulbtrry-tree
13 of tlie 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 or more.
One old man in Canterbury remembers
it in its present recumbent posture for
above seventy years past, and declares
that he knows 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 f.rst of
these subsidiary trunks, which springs ofli
at the distance of thirteen feet from the
origMd root, measures in height six feet,
befoie 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.'"
wealthy parishioners displayed when ap
plied to for their assistance in aid of pfi
vate charity. " 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."
Dr. Andrews, Dean of Canterbury,
disliked the nicety which a few of hi*
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
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-
cease, when he was buried at Stanmore-
Parva, or Whitchurch, the parish in which
Canons is situated. Theie is a magnifi-
cent monument to his memory, in a cha-
pel paved with marble over the vault :
his " 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, resignation, 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, vid the poet meanly
disclaimed, and Hogarth punished it byre-
presenting the bard of Twickenham on a
scaffold white-washing Burlington-house,
4GL
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 10.
and bwpatiering the duke of Chandos*
carriage as it passed. Yet Pope's verse
respecting the short-lived magnificence of
Canons was prophetic ; —
Another age thall tee the golden car
Embrown the slope, and nod on the parterre :
Deep harvesu bury all his pride has planned.
And laughing Cerct rcassuinc the land.
The stately mansion was sold, piecemeal,
by auction, in 1747, and it became the
rage of that day to buy somethirvg at
Canons; hardly an attendant at the sale
went away empty-handed, so numerous
and so various were the lots.
'ITie 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 slmll 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, J ut
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 Whitchurch, 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 J. Day breaks , . i 53
Sun rises ... 4 32
— sets . . . 7 28
Twilight ends . .10 7
Lesser persicary flowers.
^U0U0t 10.
August 10, 1786, the Rev. William
nickerstafle, 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 Tiee Grammar
School here, with an ap|)oiiitment of
£19 16s. a year ; seven ye;irs curate of
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 of Great
Wigston, in this county, to connect a fresh
acquisition in Lincolnshire with it ; and lie
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 £lO
a year, St. Nicholas, joined to my school,
might render me comfortable for life, and
prevent the uncertainty of a curacy, and
the 'iiard necessity, at my time of life, of
being harassed, in all weathers, by a dis-
tant cure." In a letter to a friend on the
i*ame 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 fwn, and that I say it,' it might cost
me the loss of his slow favors. At ?;??/
age, 1 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 guiiiens a
year out of his pittance towards a Sunday
school, which he labored to establish in
his parish. His industry and humility
are apparent from \ passage in one of his
462
THE YEAK BOOK.— AUGUST 11.
letters : — "As my absence from Ayleston
on the common week days makes it an
indispensable daty to spend my time, as
much as possible, on a Sunday, among tlie
parisliioners, and assist them in private as
well as in public, I think the method I have
adojited very convenient tor that purpose.
I bring with me bread and butter, and,
with half a pint of friend Ciiamberlain's
beer, take 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. Ciiam-
berlain's cost; but that would frustrate
my designs."
We are apt to forget goodness — the
goodness which vaunieth not itself, and
which 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? ''
D. m.
August 10. Day breaks . , . 1 5T
Sun rises ... 4 34
— sets .... 7 26
Twilight ends ..103
Sun-flower flowers abundandy.
^ugu0t 11.
The Village Chuuch.
[For the Year Book.]
Time, the universal destroyer, is ne-
vertheless the universal beautifier. It
confers tlie 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 rum, sanctified by time, and
pregnant witJi recollections of romance
and chivalry. The newly erected church
has an appearance of freshness which
seems to insinuate the novelty of th« re-
ligion it is dedicated to promote. The
venerable tower of a village church
speaks in a far different language. Tiie
stillness of age is upon it. The green
youth of the ivy is forcibly contrasted
vvith the gray old age of the rhouldering
stone. lie who died yesterday, reposes
by the side of him who died centuries
before. The past and the present are
strangely interwoven. On viewing the
newly erected house of God, we cer-
tainly "nay rejoice in the structure, as a
proof C'( the spreading influence of the
Holy Gospel, and a consequent increase
of civilization. But the shrine, hallowed
by ago, 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 has survived 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 — which, ac-
cording equally with social exultation and
with solitary pensiveness, though it falls
upon many an unheeding ear, never fails
to find some hearts which it exhilarates,
some which it softens," Buonaparte,
walking upon the terrace at Malmaison,
heard the evening bells of iluel. 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 effect 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 rcsting-
463
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 11.
place. It is an instrument breathing a
rude music, but, in spite of civilization, it
OSes 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 gliae gently over the tranquillised
senses, and leave us, like Garrick between
Tragedy and Comedy, doubting whether
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 i«n which indeed there is a sermon,
or at least a «.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,a visible 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 weddine:, or the freshest
grave, are main themes of discourse. Here
the ancient dames, with their prayer-books
neatly folded in their glazed handkerchief,
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-
profiuble 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
eouutenances clad in the smiles of Sab-
bath peace. He will reflect on t'.ie 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, sucli 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 from that in Pollok's Course of
Time, where the author labors, toils, and
pants, and leaves us in pain, not in peace.
And such 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 reprover of the
wicked — an encourager of the lowly and
meek-hearted — a father to the fatherless—
a husband to the widow— the prop of the
aged, and the guide of the young. He
meddles but little m 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 hii
cheerful giving it. He loveth to live in a
well repaired house, that he may serve
God therein more cheerfully, and lyinc:
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 wocds 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 tlie bulk of mankind is well inclined
to follow righteousness when it is incul-
cated by one who practises what he
preaches.
J. K.
South S:oneham, near Sot.thampton,
April, 1831.
h. m.
Atigmi !1. Day breaks .,20
Sun rises . . , 4 35
— sets ... 7 25
Twilisjlit ends .10
Golden sparwort flowers.
Meteors common at this season.
4G4
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 11.
BAYNARDSj SURREY.
[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 antiquarian 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 opprobrium, 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 in the clays" is to a Surrey
man the climax of all human misery.
" But are the roads good ?" I enquired.
" Why— yes. Of late years tney have
been rendered excellent; though I have
heard that in former time? eigiit 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 up
Vol. IV
4 Go
2 H
THE YEAR BOOK,— AUGUST 11.
the treument in despair, when a single
lady of a certain age timidly faltered forth
— " There are no neighbours." •* And no
scandal, miss Mousetrap" — I retorted —
•♦ Tor my part, I hate what is called a
good neiglibourhood.' The good com-
pany were now silenced by amazement,
and, seeing that they would not waste
any further reasoning upon a madman, I
oidered my gig, and set out in search of
Bavnaids.
raising through the greater part of the
picturesque town of Guildford, I turned
to the left, and, leaving the high road to
Portsmouth, proceeded, under chalky
hills, broken into pits, the steep sides of
wliich 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 singiilar 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-green with all it^ accompani-
ments, as described by the poet ;
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool.
The playful childrcu just let loose from school.
The watch-dog's voice that bay'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 fine 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 b^ a little square house,
with a row of stiff fir-trees in front, and
where a yew-tree as bare and as tall as a
May-pole displays a scanty top, cut into
the semblance of some indescribable bird.
However, on leaving the village, the road
once more turns in the direction of thi
hills, and becomes strikingly beautiful
from the rich oak woods which rise on
either hand, so as to form a continued
avenue of more than two n.iles in length,
reaching, 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 sheet of water,
that forms a reservoir for the Surrey and
Sussex canal, enriches the view, and leads
the eye along its bending course, to the
blue summits of distant Tlindhead.
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 ateeply 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, — " IIow grand — how beau-
tiful 1" My second, — " Is it possible
that I shall ever live in so lovely a place V*
As yet unadmonished by the real unro-
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,
not a mere husk of antiquity, but full ot
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 recollection. To an
ancestor of Sir Philip Sidney of Penshursi
the first grant of the Baynards estate had
been made in the reign of Henry VI.;
the present mansion had been built by a
descendant of Sir Thomas More, and had
466
THE YEAR BOOK— AUGUST 11.
afterwards been occupied by a brother of
the author of Sylva. In rathei an exulted
mood, llien, 1 turned up the approach
towards the house;— but, 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.
It extends in length about seventy rods
(at sixteen feet and a half), and hath fifty
trees of a side. The walke is in breadth
three rodde and a half, and the trees
planted about twenty-four foote as under,
rhey 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 atiolher. Their bodies are but
short, being topped when they were
planted. For their heads few excellmg
them, many of tliem being planted by
themselves in the parke, and not being
hindered by others, spread 5 rodde a
piece.''* These had disappeared, and
the absence of all large timber on the
estate proved that the property had long
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 had 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 ar-
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 performed the part of a rapper. By
aid of 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
.'n itself an apartment and vvith many a
* From a MS. at Wotton, kindly sent me
by Mr. Bray, wh^ continued Manning's His-
tory of Surrey.
smoke-stained rafter, and dim roccss, d(y
corated with ghostly flitches. Having
intimated that I was come to see the
house, I was conducted over it by the
good woman, whose husband farmed
the surrounding land, and, contrary to
my expectations, found the apartments
much larger and loftier than is usual in
old mansions, and the 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 separated two sets of lofty
bed-rooms; and a gallery of a hundred
feet in length ran along the top of the
house, opening on either hand into
smaller dormitories. In this gallery, my
guide informed me, an annual cricket
match used to be played by the men cf
Rudgwick against the men of Cranley, -
two neighbouring villages. I can scarce
ly imagine a more inconvenient spot foi
such an exploit. A ghost also was said
to walk here (of course such a place
could not be without 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 tne very bottom to the top of the
house. All the doors and fire-places were
of tlie low flattened arch peculiar to the
Tudor period, and the windows, of great
size and height, were 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 stack, with a cock
flapping his wings on the top of it, did
not compose a very 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 ta
other places — a conjecture which was
strengthened by the woman's informing
me that, within her time, the Onslow
family (who possessed Baynards) had
467
THE YEAR BOOK.- -AUGUST 11,
removed some very fine stained glass
from the hall windows to tlie cliurch of
Clandon, near which village they have a
splendid old country seat.
The apartment at Baynards which
made the most inipression upon me was
the great room over the hall. There wiis
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 stale 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 tlie 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 enougli, 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," 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 af\er^ some say of a broken
heart — but that may, or may not be, you
know." « Well, well, after all" thought I,
"something of a story of rustic horror
might be made out of tliis. 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 !" — tliouglit
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 lliat I know
there was once water there, the whole
park looks like an eyeless face 1 Doubt-
less on that ample pool many a lord and
lady gay has launched forth in gilded
barge, startling the echoes with music
and light laughter. How ciianged !" — 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 tlie
hill on the summit of which stands the
beautiful village of Rudgwick with its
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 Petworth, 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 n collec-
tion of which, and of my s jnsai ons on
beholding it, inspired meat 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, 1 deeply felt
468
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 11.
Twas a heart-healing land. The country there
Seemed God's own country, for the use of man
Intended, and by man's abuse unstained : —
Woody for his hearth and pastures for his board.
And yet the landscape in its simple wealth
Had something of a lordly aspect too^
A fine old English look.
From the Two Mamtoru, a. Pjcm.
Will the readex' 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 ?ang —
Yea, tens of thousands — an unceasing s'^ng.
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 Twc Mansions.
I will now take my leave of my reader,
— whom I fear I have detained too long —
with an extract from Maiming's folio
History of Surrey, containing the most
authentic historical account of Baynardi :
*♦ Baynards is an estate in Cranley pa-
rish and Evvhurst, about a mile distant on
the south-cast from Vacherie, in Cranley.
In the '25lh of Henry Vlth. William
Sydney Esquire had leave to impark
800 acres of land in Evvhurst, Cranele, and
Ruggewick, within his Maner of Bay-
nards. He was living here in 12 Henry
VI., and dying 8di Octr., 28 Ilen.VL,
A.O. 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 lift 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 VVoodcote, 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
hnely thriven, though in a barren soil and
cold clay, as to contain, one with ano-
ther, 3 qrs. of a load of timber in a
tree. — He adds that afttr hir brother's
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
Epsom 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
t':e possession of the Onslow family, if
has thrice changed its owners.
xMay 27, 1831.
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
Kew on the summit rapt I Etand^
The centre of tht circling land.
469
THE YEAR BOOK.-AUGUST 11.
Rm, wmuq, ftbovc, below,
Wh«t brauties blaw, what colon glow •
Blending, intrrtfcting, meeting,
Or In Icngthen'd file rctrrating i
Slop'd, or, with abrupt abysn,
Scoop'd into chalky precipice ;
Smooth, or variously emboss'd.
Bare, or with many a hedge-row cross'd,
lunumirotis rise the hills around.
And ithut the landscape'* 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,
.4p.d, on the horizon bright,
Melu away in liquid white.
Where clouds, of downy texture, spread.
Pillows meet for angel's head.
Now the restless eye may rovo
From mead to mead, from grove to grove ,
Now the village church it views
Nested in its ancient yews ;
Fields with corn, or pasture, green.
And stripes of barren heath between ;
Villas, farms ; and, glimmering cooly
The glassy pond, or rushy 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 can warm.
The sc.ul, at one excursive glance.
Seizes amid the wide exparsc. —
Wheje the vale appears to rise
And mingle with the meeting skies,
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 deep.
On a rock, above the plain.
Rises Catherine's ruin'd fane ;
And, where yonder bold hill swells.
From out its deep-entangled dells,
Martha boasts her house of prayer ;
Sister saints the maidens were.
Who, a tiuie-worn legend says,
'I'hemselvcs the hallow'd walls did raise.
And a wondrous hammer, still,
To.«t, as they toil'd, from hill to hill.
Far away, pale Hindhead frowns.
With level ridge of sun-buml downs ;
With pointed summit, steep and high,
Towers fir-cinctur'd Crooksbury.
Gazing there, the mind recaU
Waverley'i old abbey-walls.
Or see* the oak's rude branches wave
O'er Lnd's wild stream, and wizard cave.
Brlow, like one vast wavy mead,
The wooded plains of Sussex spread .
la't Fancy's cheat, or can the eye.
Beyond, a gleam of sea descry ?
i\'ow I turn, where Hascombe vaunts
Its beechen bowers, and Dryad haunts ;
Kow, where, on Kwhurst's breezy mound,
Turn the tall windmill's broad vans round.
And the distant tower of Lcith
Looks o'er the luLject land beneath.
Nearer as the eye rot urns,
Freah 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 htiinblc wall —
Now the steep my stops descend,
Now to the gr ssy dell 1 wend.
How chang'd the prospoct ! Naught is seen
Save azure sky, and hill-side green.
Where spreads the fiock whose tinkling bell
Suits the lonjly 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 my fancy, for to me
Nature is true luxury !
More fair to me yon bells of heath.
Than glowing India's gaudiest wreath ;
More sweet the bree2o,that sweeps the broom,
Than all Arabia's soft perfume ;
More bright the dew-drop on its stems.
Than rich Golcondu'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 ;
By the babbling brook ; and still
Woo her charms on Hydon Hill.*
A Rural Description.
" At the doore of the house you meet
Willi a walke with fine aventies, in figure
like a starre; the oakes that compose it
make one, with extasie, admire the height
of their tops, raising one's eyes from the
root to the column ; then, precipitating
them down a^aine, one doubts whether
the earth beares them, and whether or no
they carry not the evirth at tiieir 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
atretchl towards heaven, embracing it,
seem to beg of the stars their influences
altogether pure, and to receive them before
• The Weaver's Boy, and other Poems, by
Chauncy H. Townshend, 1825, p. 42, itc .
470
THE YEA.Il BOOK.~AUGUST 11.
tliey have at all lost of their innocence in
the bed of the elements. There, on every
side, the flowers, having had no other
gardener but nature, sent a sharp breath,
thnt quickens and satisfies the smell.
The sweet 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 brookes relate their travels to the
pebbles; there a thousand feather'd voyces
make the forrest ring 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 liave taken the shape and the
tongue of a nightingale ; sometimes you
slmll hear them tickle a consort ; another
while they'le drag, and make their music
languish ; by and by they passionate an
elepie, by interrupted sobbs; and then,
again, soften the violence of their voyces,
more tenderly to execute pitty ; and, at
last, raise tlieir harmony ; and, what with
tlieir crotchets and warbling, send forth
their lives and their voyces together !
Eclio is so delighted with it, that she
seems to repeat their aires only that she
may learne them ; and the rivolets, jealous
of their musique, as they 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 too 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 afrighted to
have run so long without 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
this, 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 often upon herselfe, witnesse 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, SUREEY
[For the Year Book.]
Mr. Hone,
Having bad occasion to go to
Mickleham and \Votton churches, Surrey,
1 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 " fai-ly wrought in brass, to-
gether with 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 othei interesting
objects I noticed a curious Saxon window,
and two crowned heads on either side of
the western door smirking plcasar^tly.
471
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 11.
WOTTON CHURCH, KENT.
Tlie little village of Mickleham was
formerly a place of some consequence ; it
is mentioned in Domesday — "Nigell holds
Michelham of the bishop of Baieux. Ans-
frig held it of king Edward. It has
always been assessed at five hides. The
arable is four ploughlands. There are
two ploughs in the demesne, four villains,
four bondsmen, and two ministers. Hero
is a church, two acres of meadow, and a
wood of three hogs. In the time of the
Confessor it was valued at thiee pounds,
subsequently at fifty shillings, and it is
now estimated at four pounds," &c.
Wotton 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
cased by a larger one of f-^ir marble, on
the slab of which the following epitaph is
graven : —
Hero lios the Body
of John Evllvn, Esq.
<.f' this place, second son
of Richard Evelyn, Esq.
who, having served the Puhlick
m several employments, of which that
of Commissioner of the Privy Seal in the
Reign of king James the 2d. was most
honourable, and perpetuated liis fame
by far more lasting monuments than
those of Stone or Brass, his learned
.nd useful Works, fell asleep on the 27 day
of February 1705-6, being the 86 year
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 liis intention
is here declared,
Tbat all is vanity which is not honest,
and that there is no solid wisdom
but in real Piety.
Of five Sons and three Daughters
born to him from his most
virtuous and excellent wife
Mary, sole daughter and heiress
472
THE YEAE BOOK.— AUGUST 11.
of Sir Rich. Browne, of Saycs
Court near Deptford in Kent,
onely one daughter, Susanna
married to William Draper,
Esq., of Adscomb in this
County, survived him ; the
two 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,
leaving one son, John, and
one daughter, Elizabeth.
llis " virtuous and excellent wife " re-
poses in a like sepulchre on the left hand
side of the entrance, and the goodly effi-
gies of his ancestors surround the walls.
Among these may be seen the twenty-
four children 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 tiiose already mentioned, the
church contains several monuinenU,
among which are two tablets to the me-
mory of the earl of Rothes, and the de-
ceased members of his family. llis
lordship's eulogy, written by his countess,
paints his virtues in glowing colors ; it
conclades thus — " His afflicted widow,
and once happy wife, inscribes this
marble ; an unequal testimony of his
worth and excellence, and her affection,
wishing that heaven to her may grace
supply, to live as well, and as prepaied
to die." On the opposite side is a fair
tablet, denoting the vault of the ancient
family 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, pernaps, be generally
known, that Mr. William Glanville, one
of the clerks of the treasury, reposes be-
hind 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 Wotton, upon
condition that they should, with their
hands laid on his toml), 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 chapter. The surplus of an annuai
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 ?nd trees, wherein bred all manner
of birds ; on another si^le were warrens
and tonniborrowpb full of hares and Con-
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 }eere ; and, by thai 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? why
it were but folly. Besides all this, you
* From theVoyagc of the Wandering Knight,
translated from the French by W. G., and
dedicated to Sir F. Drake. (Black letter.)
473
THE YEAR BOOK-AUGUST 11.
must think what there worn of tcnms
courts, tnd other places of nastimes, the
walls thereof were very high, insomuch
that it would hare made one amaied, and
desire to look down from the top. There
was also a roanrailouse moale, 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-
houn«ls, spaniels for land or water, mas-
lives for bull, beare, and boare. We supt
in a banketting house, and our supper
excelled all the fare that ever I saw *
FLITTON.
[For the Year Book.]
\Vc passed the low stone wall, and stood
Beside the heedlcs* 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 church-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 groy low'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 sotight the welcome porch.
Upon whose front arc 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
Uie porch.
Three azure bars, with other three
Between, of virgin while,
Wbich cunningly cnwrought were borne.
By that redoubted knight,
Sir Henry, at Caerlavcroc,
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,
VIII.
Ere pleasure had been linked ro pain —
And asked ourselves the while,
Wliy man sliould " toil so hard to gain
" A monumental pile"
That, whilst it craves the stranger's tear.
Provokes the scorner's smile.
IX.
But now the grey Oiu oaken doo^
Swung open to the touch.
And up and down the breezy aisle
We passf^d, and pondered much j
Nor, iS we spoke of mortal man.
Forgot that we were such.
X.
For as w^ came within its walls
So calm a freshness fell
Upon our minds, we deemed that hero
That perfect peace must dwell
Which scatters, from its healing wings.
Delights which none can tell j
XI.
And feared that our unhallowed haste.
And sounding step, hud licared
Tie genlle spirit from its rest —
Which, as it upward fared,
L'ad waked those stirrings in the air
Wliose inEucnce we shared.
XII.
And hence, with staid and thoughtful mien.
We if.oved along the nave,
And through a stately iron gate.*
• Caerlaveroc castle, in Scotland, was be-
sieged by Edward I., in 1300. Amongst his
followers was Henry dc 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 :
•* |i?Enri tie ffirai, bi ie la
abrc son ton seigneur le compte,
ISanier aboit i\ par Uroit conte
De Vl pieces, la brai mesui—
iiarre Ire argent e tie aiur."
The distinguished and amiable, but ill-fAtcd
lady Jane, came of this stock.
t The Columbarium of the Greys is en-
tered from the nave. It consists of fouC
474
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 12.
Where, o'er the Founder's * grave,
A costly monument appeared
Our poor regards to crave ;
XIII.
On which, in effigy he lay,
A gay and gilded thing.
Though dimmed and sullied much by time.
Whose quick, but noiseless wing.
Fanning the haughty brow, had soothed
Its winter into spring.
XIV.
And close beside, in silent state.
Reposed his lady fair —
Their faces gazing on the roof.
Their hands upraised in pray'r.
And others of the house and line
Of bold dc Grey were there,
XV.
By love and grief so eulogized.
They seemed too good for earth.
And yet, the language of the Fall
Exhibited no dearth
Of words, to sound the deathless prnise
Of such unsullied worth !
XVI.
Now by a dark and winding stair.
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 bene^h —
Whose soft and grassy sod.
So purely bright, it seemed that there
No hun;an foot had trod —
Was ruffled with the cells of thosef
Whose souis had gone to God —
XVIII.
Whose souls had gone to God, though few
Their days on earth had been, —
apartments in the form of a cross, tne chan-
cel-end 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,
daughter of sir John Cotton ; and their effi-
gies, splendidly habited and crowned, lie di-
rectly fronting the gates above mentioned.
J lie other apartments were subsequently
erected.
* Wordsworth has
" the ground beneath
Is ruffled with the cells of death."
Tliese graves are on the north side of the
church, in a spot which, I believe, is not easy
of access. There are but few gravestones in
this pan of the cemetery ; the billowy ridges
here adverted to (very many of which seem,
from their size, raised over the remains of
infants), being, in most instances, the only
memorials for the dead.
For there how many baby-graves
Ranged side by side were seen j
So thickly set, a living child
Might scarcely pass between,
XIX.
And there, we breathed a wish to lie
Remotf; from folly's coisc —
It seemed so fit a resting-place
Between the care that cloys
In siith a hollow world as this
And Heav'n's enduring joys !
XX.
Oh Death of Death ! through whom alone
All perfect gifts descend.
Give us that stedfast faith in Thee
Which brings a peaceful end —
ind 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 liis reign,
made him a knight of the garter. James
II. appointed him a lord of the bed cham-
ber ; and for refusing to introduce Ferdi-
naiido 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 Revolution, but
kept in retirement at the beginning of Wil-
liam's reign. He afterwards took office
as president of the council, and a loid
justice. Under Queen 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 the Duke 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
refused 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
court of the palace. He claimed to be
475
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 13. 14.
paid Rimost ragal honors. Flis servants
obeyed by signs; and he caused the roads
in the country to be cleared for him, that
he might pass wjiliout obstruction or ob-
servation. "Go out of tlie way," said
one of his attendants to a countryman,
who WPS driving a hog. " Why ?" said
the man, " Because my lord duke is
cominff, and he does not like to be looked
upon. The offended countryman seized
his hog by the ears, and held him up to
the carriage window, exclaiminp:, " I will
see him, and my pig sliall see him too."
The duke married twice, llis 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." His children obeyed his
mandates with slavish respect. His
two younger daughters were required to
stand and watch, alternately, whilst he
slept after dinner. One of ihem, upon
such an occasion, sat down from fatigue ;
her noble father awoke, and f bserving 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 he was of " the
Duke of Somerset's family." ♦* No Sir,"
said the indignant baronet, " His Grace
is of mine." •
stroyed, and an equal uumScr maimed 01
wounded.
h. m.
August 12. Day breaks . . '^ 4
Sun rises ... 4 37
— sets .... 7 23
Twiliglit ends . . 9 66
Oats frequently carried about tliis time.
^ugu0t 13.
13th August, 1822, an earthquake de-
rastated the greater part of Syria. It
began about half past nine in the evening,
and, in ten or twelve seconds, Aleppo,
Antioch, Idlib, lUha, Gisser Shogr,
Darcoush, Artnenas, and every villa"^e
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 .53
Chrysanthemums, China asters, and
various other annuals blowing.
i^ugu0t 14.
HoRSE-SHOE Cu.-iT'iM AT OaKHAM.
14th August, 1 654, Evelyn says, "I took
ajourney intothe 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, sjioes
of raw hides were put upon camels in
war-lime, 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
liorse, 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 pactis'd in
England ;" yet there were dug up at Col-
ney, in Norfolk, Roman urns, and a horse-
shoe of uncommon form, lound 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 respectmg horse-shoes. Aubrey
tells, that, in his time, "It is a thing very
* Fosbroke's Encv. of Antq.
47G
THE YEAR BOOK— AUGUST 15.
common to nail horse-shoes on the
thresholds of doors ; which 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." Ho 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 1 797, Mr. Brand says, " In Monmouth-
street, many horse-shoes nailed to the
thresholds are still to be seerj. There is
one at the corner of Little Queen-street,
Holbcrn." April 26th, 1813, Mr. Ellis
" counted no less than seventeen horse-
slioes 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 : —
Crouds of boys
Worry me with eternal noise ;
Straws laid across my pace retard,
The horse-shoe's nailed (each threshold's
guard).
The stunted broom the wenches hide.
For fear that I 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. Mr. Douce'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 cottages
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 Lumisden'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 as above, upon
horse-shoes, says, "This little superstition
puts me in mind of anotlier. 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 " Handsell" 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
fairy 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.
August 14. Day breaks . . 2 10
Sun rises ... 4 41
— sets ... 7 19
Twilight ends . 9 60
Ragweed flowers.
Hoary fleabane in full flower.
^U0U0t 15.
Guild of the Assumption.
Mr. Dawson Turner,' in his work on
Normandy, describes a ceremony of the
Guild of the Assumptiqp, at Dieppe, in-
stituted by the governdr des Morets, in
1443, in honor of the ^nal expulsion of
the English. Des Morets himself 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 a.ssures
us that the earnestness felt on the occasion
477
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 15.
mainly contributed lo the preservation of
that [>urity 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 /bund amongst tl>e clergy ; and the
laity were so far favored that they were
permitted to furnish the eleven other
apoitles. Thi^ done, upon the fourteentli
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 s'retched a large
carpet, embroidered with verses in letters
of gold, setting forth his own good quali-
ties, and his love for tiie holy Mary.
Hither also, as soon as Laudes had been
sung, the procession repaired from the
church, and then they were joined by the
governors of the town, the raembe-rs 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-
menteu 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 was 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 dome, 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 grat.& Dei plena
per secula," &c., accompanied by a lai-gei
angel on each side, with a trumpet. To
complete this portion of the spectacle,
others bi-low the old man's feet heUl
tapers, which were lighted as the services
began, and 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 extinguisheis. At the com-
mencement of the mass, two of the angels
by the side of the Almighty descended to
the foot of the altar, and, placing them-
selves by the tomb, 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 imaf(c<,
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, ?nd hid
himself under his legs, so as to show only
his head. The people called him Grin-
aldi, 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."
478
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 16. 17.
h. in.
Atlcmt 15. Daybreaks . . 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.
^U0U0t 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.
Sir, Admiral jMari
and four men
e have taken and de- of ^'^r oi 60,
siro; cd all the Spanish ships ^4, 40, and 24
and vessels which were upon p^** » * *\'^P
— - '^ laden with
arms, and a
bomb-vessel.
the coast. The number as
per Margin
I am, &c. ^ o^J^NT.
G.Walton, ^^""."^^.f
war of 64, 44,
/- , 7 /re 40, and 30
ianterhury, off Syracuse, ^ g^^.
AvgmtXQ.niQ. ship, a bomb-
vessel.
h. m.
\jgust 16. Day breaks
. 2 17
Sun rises . .
. 4 44
— sets . .
. 7 16
Twilight ends .
. 9 43
Elegant Zennia flowers.
^ligu0t 17.
Wakes.
Most of the sports remaining at coun-
try festivals appear to be enjoyed at
Didsbury, in Lancashire. The Stockport
Advertiser, of Augusts, 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. ; treaded-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 ^
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 tlie 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. Tliree of the singers were
females. The airs were spiritedly sung;
and the band played overtures and other
pieces with good effect.
At three o'clock we sat down to dinner
with about forty, at the 2«t/e d'hote of
our hotel, and a large party dined in
another room. Considering the bustle 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 : all 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 tho
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
the ever-shifting mass was inexpressibly
amusing to us. The variety of character
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 :
482
THE YEAR BOOK.- AUGUST 17.
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, impervious 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 countenances 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 outside the interior
would bear inspection, we obtained ad-
mission, and were ushered into a tole-
rably spacious apartment, with wax-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 cictrone,
a boy, seemed to address himself ex-
clusively to us English. lie 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. A literal
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 Majeste tres Catho-
lique et ties Jidlley Ferdinand sept, Roi
d 'Espagne, SfC. ^c. General Foy, the
liberal, was grand; and Chateaubriand,
the royalist, Ulustre ; the latter he mouthed
" Monsieur de Chateau-6ri///a7jf ;" af-
fording unconsciously a sort of character
belonging to the style of that agreeable
writer. The death of Napoleon formed a
483
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 17.
large group, in neat and apparenily cor-
rect costume; llie face of the dying em-
peror was really well given, and we were
assured ihe whole was an exact represen-
tation of the scene at St. Helena dt seven
o'clock in tlie 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
^nd the arrangement of her hair were de-
cidedly tiiose of a little French milliner.
These personages assorted oddly with the
grandees of the age; but the exhibition
was no 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 1 "
Various diversions remained for our
evening 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
borsemanship, 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
tlian the pit at Astley's. The sur-
rounding seats gradually rose above
each other to the roof, and were divided
mto compartments : th»» admission prices
diflered according to the distance. The
audience being dressed in their holiday-
clothes, the amphitheatre presented a
gay roup-d'ail Compared with Ducrow's
at Astley's, the feats of horsemanship were
by no means brilliant, although the troop
was more numerous, and went througli
more chivalric and military manoeuvres,
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 wjiich
most excited admiration was, when drawn
up in line from the centre of the ring to t!ie
circumference, each man, wielding a
lancer's flag, rode round in the sf»me
order, like the spoke of a wheel, tlie
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 that 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 strength 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 vvas
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 debut
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 : man_,
of her exploits at Utrecht, and particularly
the supper, were repeated in London
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,
434
THE YEAR BOOK. -AUGUST 17.
and to announce those of the follow inaf
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 with rapture
on the elegance of his style. Before
leaving the place, we thought we should
be 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 wherewt sat ; instead of endeavouring
to recover it, the youngster, with true
Dutch phlegm, had contented himself
with giving the 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. ^V'hilehe
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 sortof 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
liollovvs; 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
manoeuvred a fork with inconceivable
celerity, first turning each cake in it^
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 it
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 Medeas, 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 tlieir
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 tiie 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-
malas, &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 te
afraid to state th.e result : we could only
4^5
THE YEAR BOOK.— AuUUST 17.
fjacuUte Shakspeare's benevolent wish,
** May good digestion wait on appetite."
This practice, which prevails between
meals, may partly account for the extraor-
dinary freouency of the word " Apotheek "
above the aoors in every town in Holland.
Tliese apothecaries* shops, too, are among
the best fitted ud 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 surj)rising that they fell
asleep " in harness." We had " heard
the chimes at midnight," and yet there
was a spacious public house nearour domi-
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 tower 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 many of tlie 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 sheH of a cocoa-nut. He
usually resided for a year at a time in
some capital, to introduce his manufacture
into the country, and was then established
at Amsterdam, from whence he had come
to attend the fair. lie 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 ; 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 dili-
gences of the hugest size, and a smaller
voiture, 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 [ 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 Keinen, a passing waggoner
looked up, and endeavoured with great
energy to excite our attention ; we could
not understand him, but we soon per-
ceived that he was warning us of what
seemed a gateway with 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 heads
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 furcu 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.
486
THE YEAE BOOK.— AUGUST 18, 19.
august 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.
PLvery Sunday, before the service began
at church, he used toamuse 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. lie 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 vvitii-
out finishing the business of tithes, and
next morning, instead of rtiree 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 m.anner of eating, and the quantity, of
liis meals. W^ith a shoulder or leg of
lamb, perhapsj in his hand, and a quantity
of salt in the bend of the arm whicti
carried tlie 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-
sliip, 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 ano'her, lanrib 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
h. m.
August 18. Day breaks . . 2 24
Sun rises ... 4 48
— sets . . . 7 12
Twilight ends . 9 30
Everlasting Xeranthemum flowers.
^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
Rig.g, aged 19 years; Eliza Rigg, aged
17; Thos. Gorwood Rigg, aged 18; John
Rigg, 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'a
away ;
Ere eve. Death wreck'd the bark, and queuch'd
their light ;
Their parents' home was desolate at night ;
Each pass'd alone that gulph no eye can see ;
rhey 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.
August 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 theii
leaves.
487
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 19.
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 tha\
survey, was held of Judith, countess of
Huntingdon, by the monks of St. Mary.
The population in 1821 was 548.
The dim, mysterious, ruddy Ugh
That ushers in an autumn night.
Hung o'er the recking fields that lay
Before me, on my lonely way.
In melancholy stillness spread.
As if to shroud thoso dreamless dead.
Over whose long, uubrokcn sleep
No friends nor kindred come to weep.
Though through its tears the sun-set sky
Looks kindly down with glimmering eye.
And, as its tender tints grow dim,
The rcd-brcast trills their parting hymn.
But now that loved and lonesome thing
Brought not its tuneful offeriiig •,
Though breaking on the drowsy car,
Distiact, yet distant, f«int, but dear.
Like the far trumpet's voice of flame
At times the cock's shrill clarion came.
Poured blithely forth, as full and freo
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 roimd.
Joined with the homeless wether's bell.
Drowned not the lisping brooklets' swell.
No " noise that hinders thought" was there.
But through tlie chill substantial air.
From the still, shadowy hamU t, broke
The clanging hammer's sturdy stroke.
And click of hurrying hoofs that tiode
With measured step the twilight road.
By ancient ELSTOW 's hallowed fane — *
Now faintly heard, now loud again ;
But still, by distance so subdued.
They stavtlcd not its solitude,
* The church, which is all that remains of
the conventual building, is dedicated to the
Holy Trinity, St. Mary, and St. Helena, the
mother of Constantine the Great, It is a
stately structure, and contains some curious
sepulchral brasses, and other monuments of
mtorcst.
488
THE YEAE BOOK.— AUGUST 20.
But served as points to mt-vc and sound
The deep 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
Like 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 in water Bunyan'sf name.
And merge in darkness, if she will,
" iSfle >i?uiitiiTgtion, ^is ancient l^^tU }"
The grateful " Pilgrim" still shall go
To seek his native * Hclenstowe,'
And, though the place be none so fair —
Dream of " the land of Beulah" there. —
* Undying thoughts of dying thin^js !' —
The bright, but passing, pomp of kings,
Earth's rottenness, and crafty ruth.
Seen in the blaze of sober truth. —
— The hopeless hope, by human light,
To overmatch Essential Right,
And bind unbending Justice down
In barter for a fadeless crown. —
— The convent's gloom — the masses said —
And requiems chaunted for the dead.
In solemn voices, loud and clear.
By 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
Hillersdon family, whose arms are carved on
the 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 born at Elstow, of mean pa-
rentage, in 1628. His native house has un-
dergone such extensive repairs and alterations,
tliat its original features are lost, or a view of
•* 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 !* — I thought of yoa.
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 makelh not ashamed ;"
— 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 ouo^ht.
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.
^ugu0t 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 liand 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
sakeoflier property the duke assumed the
character of Ernperor 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. *
20tli 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-Ilabbies,
and Circassians, were much admired. f
• Noble.
t Gent's Magazine.
489
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 21, 22.
h. in.
August 20. Day breaks . . 2 30
Sun rises ... 4 51
- - sets ... 7 9
Twilight ends . 9 30
Roadside fleabane flowers.
Early peaches and nectarines abundant.
Windsor pears fully ripe.
aU0U0t 21.
2 1 St August, 1 703, d ied Thomas Tryon,
the amiable author of "Tlie 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 thought "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 nue where that im-
mortal garland is to be n n for, not with-
out dust and heat. — Milton.
h. m.
August 2i. Daybreaks . . 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.
• Nible
^U0U0t 22.
This is the anniversary of Bosworth
Field, in which battle Richard HI. was
killed. Modern writers 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. The
itory 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 HI.)
in the following letter from Dr. Thomas
Brett to Dr. William Warren, President
of Trinity Hall.
[Copy.]
Dear Will,
* * Now for the story of Riciiard
Plantagenet. In the year 1720 (I have
forgot the particular day, only remember
it was about Michaelmas) I waited on the
late lord Heneage, earl of Wiiichelsea, 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 have 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 his
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 him, he would
490
THE YEAE BOOK.— AUGUST 22.
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
fitteen or sixteen years old : only a gentle-
man (who took occasion to acquaint him
he was no relation to him) came once a
quarter, and paid for his board, and took
care to see that he wanted nothing. And,
one day, this gentleman took him, and
carried him to a fine great house, where
he passed through several stalely 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 forernen-
tioned gentleman returned, and conducted
him back to his scliool.
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 IIL's tent. The king embraced
him, and told him he was his son. " But,
child," says he, " to-morrow I must fight
for my crown ; and, assure yourself, if I
lose tliat, I will lose my life too; but I
hope to preserve both. Do you stand in
such a place (directing him to a particular
])lace), 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
m.e." Then the king gave him a purse
of gold and dismissed him.
lie foUowea 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, be generally
spei.t 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 give
you the running of my kitchen as long
as you live." He answered, " Sir, you
have a numerous fam.ily ; I have been
used to live retired ; give me leave to
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.
1 have been computing the aee of this
Richard Plantagenet 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 Plantagenet 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 Plantagenet 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 that he 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,
Tiic. Brett
Spring Grove, Sept. 1, 1733.
491
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 23. 24.
Or. Samuel Pegge, in remarking upon tne
preceding leUer, and upon objections tliat
were urged lo the authenticity of its ac-
count, says," Dr. Thomas Brett, of Spring-
grove, near Eastwell, was tlie 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 n»n as the doctor has delivered it;
but if 11. T. will be content with a literal
extract from the old register of Eastwell,
concerning the person in question, I am
ready to oblige him in that, by assuring
him that I copied verbatim, above thirty
years ago, tlie following entry from
thence : — * Richard Plantagenet 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
miy give some satisfaction, tliai Ricliard
III. certainly had a bastard son of the
name of Richard, see Mr. Drake's Ebo-
racuin, 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 /^ is pre-
fixed to the name ; and the same mark is
put to that of Richard Plantagenet.''*
h. m.
Augugt 22. Day breaks . . 2 37
Sun rises ... 4 55
— sen ... 7 5
Twilight ends . . 9 23
Amellus flowers.
Green gage, and Orleans' plums ripe
to perfection.
augu0t 23.
To nE CoKSIDERED.
The light which we have gainea was
given us not to be ever staring on, but by
it to discern onward things, more remote
from our kf^owleihe.— Milt on.
* Grntleioan • Magazine.
August 23. Day breaks
Sun rises
h. m.
. 2 40
. 4 57
— sets ... 7 3
Twilight ends . . 9 20
Sea starwort in full flower.
^U0U0t 24.
St. Bartholomew's Day
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 Smilhfield." The title enumerates
several other strange and wonderful mat-
ters, as being contained in the book, but,
like the showman's painted cloths in thu
fair, pictures monsters not visible within.
There is not a line in the tract respeclinj^^
the suppression of the fair.
[For the Year Book.]
On the above day tlie following custom
prevailed some time ago at the village of
Dorrington, 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 stand mg in
the parish, and strewed its floor witli
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.
Si.EAFORDENSIS.
Festivals of St. John and St. Bartho '
LOMEW — Early method of Educa-
tion.
Morley, near Leeds, Yorkshire,
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-
tl-.olomew's, respectively, which has been
492
THE YEAR BOOK— AUGUST 24.
left incomplete or untouched by your
former publications. Taking them in
order of time, I would first advert to Mid-
summer-day, or the Nativity of Si. 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, that 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 Clarkson 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
sanie time, charitable views, as giving
relief to poor brethren and tsisters, 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
origimted not in superstition (as might
be imagined), but from necessity; for
there appears to have been one or more
nights in early times (of which 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 Jires, 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 as our
Christmas fires, and the burning of the
" yuleclog." To me, at least, the following
passage in Mr. Fosbroke's valuable En-
cyclopaedia 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 Neocae-
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 firea
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. " lie was a burn-
ing and a shining light (says the Savi-our),
and ye were willing for a season to rejoice
in his light."* Unquestionably there is
a singular coincidence here, if the customs
and ctromonies 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 different 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, m 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 yard 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. Scatcherd hiis overlooked the notice
in the Everi/-Day Book, i. 119.]
493
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 24.
annuul 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, Tullie's Rhetoric, the Syn-
tax of the Grammar Schools, and Logic
o. the Priests, were 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 desirous 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 15th 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 as Lorit Sonibene «ctt at foiire year age
To scole at learn the doctrine of Lettrure ;
And, after six, to have them in language.
And sit at meat semely in all nurure ;
At teu and twelve to revel is their cure.
To dan'>»> and sing and speak of gentleness ;
At fourteen year they shall to field, I sure.
At bunt the deer and catch au hardiness.
" For Deer to bunt, and slay, and see them
bleed.
An hardiment giveth to his courage, *
And also in his wit be taketb heed.
Imagining to take them at avantage ;
At sixteen year to werray and to wage.
To just and ride, and castle$ to assail.
To skirmish als, and make siker Scurage,
And set his Watch, for peril nocturnal/}.
" And, every day, his Armour to assay
In feat of arms with some of bis many,
• This, if my memory serves me, was Mr.
Wyndbam's argument for the perpetuation, if
not encouragement, of brutal sports. How
different from the views and feelings of that
great man. Lord Erskine I
His might to prove, and what that be do may
If that be wore in such a jeopardy
Of Warre by falle, that by nccessitic
He might algatcs with weapons him defend ;
Thus should he learn in his priority
His weapons all in armrs to dispcnd."
The inventory of Sir John Fastolfs effect?
in vol. 20, of the ArchsBoiogia, 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.
Fastoirs) was before the invention of
printing, is the absence of Books. Some
MSS. might at least have been expected
in a mansion like Fastolfs, 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 bibliomaniac." 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 raeane
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 is only
one book. " A Boke 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
1616, 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-
con'mce ; Alphonsus de Castro ; Cyprian
and Augustine's works, being five vols.
See Gutch's Oxford, 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 Kynges grammar.
Item. Marcus TolHus office.
494
THE YEAR BOOK.— AUGUST 24.
Iirm. Fabulaj jUsopi.
Item. For quarteridgc in pens and Ynke
Biom an.
Day breaks
Sun rises .
— sets
Twilight ends
h. m
2 46
5
7
9 14
^ugu0t 26.
26 August, 1776, died, aged 73, at
Paris, the celebrated 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. lie 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
600
THE YEAE BOOK.— AUGUST 27.
died in the arms of M. Very, a priest
witn whom he was intimate.
August 26.
h. m.
Day breaks
. 2 49
Sun rises .
. 5 2
— sets . .
. 6 58
Twilight ends .
. 9 11
^ugu0t 27.
Huge Fish.
*' Very like a wha>e."
Glaus 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
much of it as 100 great waggons can
draw. It was about ninety feet long a?
it lay in the sands, about twenty-five fee:
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
small 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 broad." 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 that is by the
sea-side ; so that, oft-times, when he rais-
eth his back above the water, sawors
laketh it to be nothing else but an isiano,
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 the depth, and draws
both man and ships after him, 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 fifteen 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, m04
THE YEAK BOOK.— AUGUST 28.
away through th » garish light, to seek some
other congenial resort. * There yet re-
mains the mitred archway very fair and
large, of wrought stone, which separated
the chancel from the body 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
painful effect. 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 little boy went into a barn,
And lay down on some hay :
An owl came out and flew about,
And the little 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 Darton, Holborn-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 different in 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 mens conscia recti is admirably illus-
trated in the little narrative of
Jack Horner.
Little Jack Horner
Sat in a corner
Eating a Christmas pie.
He put in his thumb
And pulled out a plum —
And said, * What a good boy am I !'
From this history 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 fmm a conscious-
ness that he had acted uprightly, — the
pastry being very possibly the reward of
his honorable behaviour.
For sublimity of conception I know of
nothing that excels the following : —
To he 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 eveii
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 this valorous personage — the
greatness and majesty couched under the
appellation "Arthur," combined with the
soft 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 and
breathless hour of noon," and transport
yourself to a cottage in the country, with
its door standing ajar, and the window
thrown open to the widest. The clock
stands within a few minutes cf 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 lo I
The clock strikes one,
And the mouse comes down.
Hickory, dickory, dock !
Some of the descriptive touches of these
" Songs" are excellent —
One misty moisty morning.
When cloudy was the weather —
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 hill, that could not staai itill,
Went hobble, hobble, hobble.
505
THE YEAR BOOK. -AUGUST 20, 30.
Alas for Miss Muffett ! she has mar-
vellously diverted us : —
Little MUs Muflctt
She sat on n tufictt,
E*»ing of curds and whey
There came o little spider,
And 9at down beside her.
And frightened Miss Muflctt 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 !
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 ] eg-therd's Calendat.
Vol. iV.
513
2 L
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEITEMKEK.
SEPTF.MBERistbemonihofin-gatliering,
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 ot 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 attache* to the lot of
humanity ; and the evening of the day,
and the evening of life, become closely
suisimilated in his mind.
" It b 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 aJ" around him, as
he sinks, breathes on^ diffusive air of
blessedness and ren^^se. It is a scene
which marshal? li the way we ought to
go ; it teUj aj, t'nat after having passed
f^i fev fur 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 our view ; the shades of
night are beginning to gather round our
heads ; we feel forsaken and alone, whilst
the 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 tlien 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 for those who love him scenes
of unutterable joy, scenes to which, while
rejoicing in the brightness of his presence,
the effu%ence we have faintly attempted
to describe shall be but as the glimmer-
ing of a distant star."
Eating in September — it may be pre-
dicated — will proceed as in August, with
some additions, well kuown to provedi-
tors.
"Vegetable Garden Directory.
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^upply.
Celery, once or twice.
Earth up.
Celery in the trenches, and endive,
either in the seed beds or trenches, as the
plants attain a full growth.
Dig up potatoes, and clear the ground.
Ptul up 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 aslios for manure.
514
THE YEAK BOOK.— SEPTEMBEE 1.
^tpumttv 1.
Fjrst Day of Shooting.
A correspondent transcribes from his
^)mmon-place book the following merao-
-anda : —
[For the Year Book.]
Setters.
Wood (Athenae 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) lias
some really good lines on Shooting flying,
with a sparkling sprinkle of alliteration :
Here, when Arcturus glooms the inverted year.
And, stript, the Grroves iu Nakedness appear;
His Birding Piece the wily Fowler takes,
And War 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 boots his Beauty m th* embrace of
Death 1
Death spares nor Rank, nor Sex, nor Young,
nor Old ;
Nor can a Form bribe off his fast'ning 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 o'ertakes 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 oi"
Fowler or gunner (or, as the Anglo-
Americans say^ a shooter,) shooting-birds
on the wing. But what a Fowler .' what
an attitude ! what a Birding-picce / what a
shot ! The shot must have made an
echellon movement to bring down " that,
there," bird !
J. M. of M. H.
Birding.
Archery was most successfully used in
bird-killing. The perfection of a sports-
man was to strike the bill of the bird once
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 hail-shot. So early as 1548,
a bill was passed to regulate shooting
with hand-guns, and hail shot.f
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 communica-
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 ulfpe op its passions.
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-
'Nares's Gloss.
Fosbroke s Ency. of Antiquities,
616
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 1.
lition. lie always preferred his caprices
to his inteiesu; or, according to his own
notion, very ingenious, but not a little ab-
surd, •* he was always of the 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 w&rm 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 imcle 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,
\vhich 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.
^ " Tower 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
upon my guard to my commander ; for they
were writ upon duty, vhen the mind was
perfectly disengaged, and at leisure, in the
silent watch of the night, to run over the busy
dream of the day ; and the vigilance which
obliges us to suppose an enemy always near us
has awakened a sense that there is a restless
end subtle one which constantly attends our
steps, and meditates our ruin.*'*
To this solemn and monitory work he
prefixed his name, from 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 1 He tells us that this
grave work made him considered, who
had been no undelightful companion, as a
disagreeable fellow — and " The Christian
Hero," by his own words, appears to have
^rcw^'A^ off several fool-hardy geniuses who
were for ''trying their valor on him,"
Thus " The Christian hero, " finding
himself slighted by his loose companions,
sat down and composed a most laughable
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." -j- 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
essays 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 ceconomy, 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 most
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 to
a character the most uncongenial to his
own ; cold, reserved, and most anxiously
prudent in her attention to money, she
• Mr. Nichols's *' Epistolary
donee o{ Sir Richard Steele," vol.
corrcspon*
I p. 77.
t CJ.cele has given a delightful piece of self-
Wop-aohy, towards the end of his " Apology
for himself and his writings," p. 80, 4.
516
THE YEAR BOOK.-SEPTEAJBKR '2
was of a temper which every day grew
worse by the perpetual imprudence and
thoughtlessness of his own. He calls her
*' Prap," in fondness and reproach ; she
was p'-'idery itselt I His adoration was
permanent, and so were his complaints;
iind they never parted but with bickerings :
— yet he could not suffer her absence, for
he was writing to her thr-e or four passion-
ate notes in a day, whi h are dated from
his office, or his bookseller's, or from some
friend's house — he has luse 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 Wif.v,
*' I have been in great pain of botlj 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 dislm-
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 n y fortune 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 till eleven o'clock. Yours ever."
. " Dear Prue,
** 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 you,
I am, dearest creature, your most affectionate
faithful husband, " R. Steele."
** From the Press, One in the morning. "
It would seem by the foUowmg 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
h.:ndsome, 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 for 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 enemj whose
resentment died away in raillery, and a
friend who could warmly press the hand
that chastised him. Whether in f.dminis-
tration, or expelled the house— whether
affluent, or flying from his creditors — in
the fulnes.sof 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,
lie opened his career with folly ; he
hurried through it in a tumult of exis-
tence ; and he closed it by an involuntary
txile, amidst the wrecks of his fortune
and his mind.*
— h. m.
September 1. — Day breaks ..36
Sun rises . . 5 14
— sets ... 6 46
Twilight endi^ . 8 54
Game first in season.
Sept^mOn* 2.
loNDON Burnt, Sept. 2, 1666. Par-
ticulars of this memorable devastation
are in the Every- Day Book. In 1831,
an inscription ciiarging 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. 16 i.
517
THE YEAR 300K.— SEPTEMBER 3. 4.
September 2.— Day breaks .
Sun rises . .
— sets . .
TwUiglit ends
Golden rod abundant.
h. m.
3 9
5 Id
6 44
8 51
Alteration of the Style.
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
that 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 called the 3rd of September,
snould be dated the 14'.h September, &c.
In pursuance of this act the alteration
took place: the following 1st of January
vras dated as 1752, and the elc/en days
in that year, from the 3rd to the 13th
of September inclusive, were omitted.
h. m.
September 3. — Day breaks ..39
Sun rises . . . 5 17
— sets ... 6 43
Twilight ends . 8 49
Yellow fleabane flowers abundantly.
Sktpttmttv 4.
4th September, 1 733, 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
m 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 Karl of
Oxford had once filled. This Mr. Martin
was relstcd to Sir Joseph Martm, 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 Ilastings 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 rich mechanic,
though of the lowest order, than a poor
merchant."*
Riches.
• Many hunted, sweat and bled for gold ;
Wakea all the night, and labored all the
day.
And what was this allurement dost thon ask 1
A dust dug from the bowels of the earth.
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 ;
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.
Polbk.
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 lion< of the
desert. They are variously disposed
about the grounds : many of them range
upon green lawns, and all are within safe
enclosures.
• Noble,
618
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBEK 4.
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
tlie Cou..cil, under the superintendence of
the Secretary, and Vice Secretary of the
Society." It is filled with exquisite engrav-
ings on wood, by Messrs. Branston and
VV^right, from highly finished drawings
executed by Mr. Harvey, with the living
originals in the gardens before him. To
liis portraits of the quadrupeds and birds
.ne has added delightful views, principally
of picturesque scenery in the grounds.
The number and beauty of the engravings,
the 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,
mercilessly covet the rich embellishments
of "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,
and tremble — 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 dog3"
and " Maccaws," and other desirable
creatures, 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 engravmgs, 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." Thoy are printed by Whitting-
ham, and continue to uphold the un-
surpassed fame of the Chiswick Press.
The Lark.
From the " Paradis d'Amour,*
The livelong night, as was my wonted lot.
In tears had pass'd, nor yet day's orb v/as 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 music 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 I 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.
Havk! hark!
Thou merry lark !
Reckless thou how I may pine ;
Let Icve, tyrant, work his will,
I'lunging me in anguish still :
Whatsoe'er
May be my care,
To'/i shall bide this heart of mine
Hark! hark!
Thou merry lark I
Reckless thou what griefs are mine ;
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 !
Keckless thou how I may pine.
September 4.
-Day breads . .
Sun rises . . .
— sets . . .
Twilight ends
Chequered meadow - saffron
abundantly.
Red surmullets caught on the coast,
h. m.
3 14
5 19
6 41
8 46
flowers
619
THE YEAR BOOK— SEPTEMBER 4.
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 few observations concerning it
for the Year Boo/c, 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, wno took part with
lady Jane Gray.
Fuller, in his "History of Cambridge, "
says, "The lady Mary, after her brother's
death, hearine; queen Jane was proclaim-
ed, came five miles off to Sir .»onn ifud-
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 his 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 mformation 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 tlie queen with a
jurisdiction over part of Cambridgeshire
and Hertfordshire: she likewise granted
him Wilbraham Temple. The Rev. Mr.
Hicks, the present possessor of Wilbra-
520
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5.
nam, has the original deed of the Grant.
Father .Tohn 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 ^ve generations before
the Conquest, The most ancient residence
was Huddleston in Yorkshire, from which
place comes the name. — Nine brothers
of the Huddleston family are said to have
lost their li^'es in fighting for king
Charles. " Respecting the commotion, I
derive from 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 Hall, a palacp of Henry
Vni. in Essex, by Copt Hall and Saws-
ton to Framlingham 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, at this day, the village
dames tell 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. They say she had got a short
distance from the village, when her con-
ductor requested her to look back and sec
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,
Savvston Hall should be rebuilt of stone,
and by that means defy the fury of the
lawless element. Traditional report, how-
ever seemingly vague and desultory, has
a connexion with fact. — The village now
presents
The joys of liberty and smiling Peace
No doubt further interesting particulars
of this momentous era are capable of
being added, and your attention and that
of your numerous literary friends is re-
spectfully solicited to the subject.
Cambridi^e. T. N.
A Lady's Song.
The "vi'ise man sees his printer 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 the festive dancer, glad
To rest in peace at eventide.
The gazing crowds proclaim''d mc fair.
Ere, autumn-touch'd, my green leaves fell ;
And now they smile and call me good —
Perhaps I 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 Utile 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 tbe nymphs
For fav'rite swains their chaplets twine.
In gardens tiim, and bowels so green.
With flowerets sweet, and eglantine.
I love to sec 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 somewliat at my lengthen'd tale,)
To see how lays of ancient loves
The listening circle round regale.
They fancy time for them stands stiil.
And pity me my hairs of gray.
And smile to hear how once ther sires
To me could kneeling homage pay.
And I, too, smile, to gaze upon
These butterflies in youth elate.
So heedless, sporting round the flame
Where thousand such have met their fate,
Cointesse Barbe de Vcrrue.
Sbtpttmfytt 5,
5tli September, loG9, died Edmuiiu
Rotiner. He was bish.op of London in
the rei'jin of Henry VIII., but in 1549
was deposed by king Edward VL ana
committed to the Marshalsea, whence he
was released in 155'.>, and restored to the
see by fiueen Mary, during whose reign
tie exercised the office of an ecclesiastical
judgp, condemned two hundred persons
to tiie tlatnes for their religion, and caused
great numbers of others to suffer impri-
son.Tcnt, In his violent proceedings
521
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 6.
against KirJmrd Gibson, a gentleman,
who, being surety for a debt, was im-
prisoned in tl>e l*oultry 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
burnin>? 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 wood-cut of his inflicting this pun-
ishment on Thomas Ilenshawe. When
the print was shown to Bonner, he laughed
?1 it, saying, " A vengeance on the fool,
how could he get my picture drawn so
right?" He was commonly caHed "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 : —
If Ileaven be pleased when sinners cease to
sin.
If Hell be pleased \rhen sinners enter in.
If Earth be pleased when it hath lost a knave.
Then all are pleased I 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 catchfly flowers the second time.
6th. September, 1783, died in her
seveiiiy-eighth year, at the house of Dr.
Samuel Johnson, in Bolt-court, Fleet-
• fitrrpe. Granger.
street, where she had livtd 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/'
4to. 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 Variation 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 there 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 th^ 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,
h^i used to boast of assisting, or copying
some of tne 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 managed 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
better qualified than the doctor himself,
622
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 6.
as he had been mora accustomed to com- ,
men business, and more conversant in
the ** ways of men."
In another departirent, besides colloctmg
authorities, Frank was remarkably useful to
Dr. Johnson ; this was, in explanation of
low cant phrases, which the doctor used
to get Frank to give his explanation of first.
All words relating to gambling and card-
playing, such as All-fours, Catch-honors,
Cribbage, ^c.j were, among the " typos,"
said to be Frank's, corrected by the
doctor, for which he received a second
payment. At the time this happened
Johnson's Dictionary was 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 the 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
shabby 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
returned to him with the proof, m a dis-
orderly manner. Besides this there was
another mode of accounting for it, which,
at that time, was very current in the
printmg-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 fiiller;
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 whole, 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 v\as 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
very 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,uch a measure could break off 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 verses,
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-proce.ssion when they were con-
ducting Captain Porteus to be hanged;
and Frank and his 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
* Laaig jinks is the name for lansviuenet xu
Scotland among gamesters.
623
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 7.
.n the buriocss." He gave an accurate and
particular account of thai memorable trans-
action in the Edinburgh Magazine of that
time, which he was rather fond of re-
lating.
h. 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.
S^rptrmfiet 7.
Remarkable Advertisements.
[To Mr. none]
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 Lam iters of Edinburgh and its
vicinity are respectfully informed, that a
Festi VALwill be celebrated by the ready-
to-halt-fraternity, 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 Gentlemen and Gen-
tlewomen, in walking the streets in dirty
slabby weather, very frequently incom-
mode their stockings and peitico^ts 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 Nap-hrad- court in Bartholomew lane.
behind the Royal Exchan^^e, 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 IB, 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/
1 am, &c.,
I.
Birmingham Travelling— 1742.
[Advertisement from Walker's Birmingharc
paper, Monday April 12th 1742. No 26.]
The Litchfield and Birmingham
Stage-Coach set out this morning [Mon-
day] from the Rose Inn at Uolbourn
bridge, London, and will be at the house
of Mr.Francis Cox, the Angel and Hen and
Chickens, in the high town, Birmingham,
onWednesdaynext 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 ycai
1778.]
Ellen Haythornthwaite, the wife
of Robert Haythornthwaite, of Dicklin
green, near Whitevvell, in the forest of
Rowland, 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,
tweh'e 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.
524
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 8.
John Langton, a lame hand.
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, tvyo
years standing.
Notice 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. in.
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.
Private marriages.
[For the Year Book.]
July 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 Sion chapel, which seems to have
been the property of the keejier 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
to attend, this is to give notice, that all
persons bringing a licence, and who shall
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. Andrews.
Betrothing Customs.
Hand-fasting.
In 1794 the minister of Eskdalemuir,
in the county of Dumfries, mentions an
annual fair held time out of mind at the
meeting of the Black and White 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 t^e 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
certainty 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
o2i
THE YEAR BOOK.-SEPTEMBER 8.
contract of marriage and promises of
love ; one half whereof was kept by the
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 wc part,
To break this Kinepcncc as you've broke our
heart."
Filbert (breaking the nincpencc) — \s this
divides, thus are we torn in twain.
Kiltjf (joining the pieces) — And, as this
meets, thus may we meet again.
In ** The Cotmtry Wake," a comedy
by Dogget, 4 to., London, 1696, Act v.
sc. i.. Hob, who fancies he is dying, be-
fore he makes his last will and testimani/,
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 Allhallow's-tide we broke
apiece of money ; and if I had lived till
last Suriday we had been ask'd in the
church." Mr. Douce'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 rinp-,
others by words."
It appears to have been formerly a cus-
tom, also, for those who were betrothed to
wea4 some flower as an external and con-
spicuous mark of their mutual engage-
ment. Spenser, in his • Shepherd's Ca-
lendar," says,
" Bring coronations and sons 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 lengtii 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 his 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 merrimei«t succeeds ;
and all the company dine together, and
talk over the feats of the field.*
True-Lovers-Knots.
Among the ancient northern nations <*
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,lhe 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
consjder-d as the emblem of plighted
fidelity, is therefore called "a true-love
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,"^Jem dvj
I plight my troth, or faith. Thus, in the
Islandic 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,"
626
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBEB 8.
or the " top-knots," at marriages, which
nave 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,
ItJll," are the following verses: —
'I'he True Loves Knot.
Love is the linke, 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 ttcugh I loved with all the powers of my
mind,
And thouga my resties thoughts thef? rest in
her did finde.
Yet are my hopes declinde
Sith she is most unkindc.
For since her beauties sun my fruitles hope
did breede.
By absence from that sun I hop't to sterve
that weede;
Though absence did, indeede.
My hopes not sterve, but feede.
For when I shift my place, like to the stricken
deere,
I cannot shift the shaft which in my side I
bearc :
By me it resteth there.
The cause is not else where.
So have I scene the sicke to turne ana tume
againe.
As if that outward change could ease his in-
ward paine :
But still, alas ! in vaine.
The fit doth still remaine.
Yet goodnes is the spring from whence this
ill doth gro«r.
For goodnes caused the love, which great
respect did owe.
Respect true love did show ;
True love thus vrrought my woe.
Gay, in his Pastoral called " the Spell,"
describes the rustic manner of knitting
the 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,
Kow mine I quickly dofif of Inkle blue ;
Together fast I tye the garters twaine.
And, while I 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 these knots of ribands were
formerly distributed in great abundance
as bride favors, even at the marriages of
persons of the first distinction. They
were wcrn at the hat, and consisted of
.•ibandi of various colors. M. Misson,
in his Travels in England, prnited m
1696, saj-s, "Formerly, in France, they
gave Livrees de Noces, which was a knot
of ribands, to be worn by tiie guests
upon their arms; but that is practised
now only among peasants. In England
it is done still amongst the greatest noble-
men. These ribands they call * favors,'
and give them not only to those that are
at the wedding, but to five hundred peo-
ple besides. T'other day, when the eldest
sen 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 Misson, says: "The
favor was a 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 blijhsome oacKsome country maids,
"With Auols of ribands at their heads.
And pinners flutt'ring in 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 Coloi-s.
In a curious old book "The fifteen
Comforts of Marriage," a conference is
introduced concerning bridal colors in
dressing up the bridal-bed by the bride-
maids.— " Not, say they, with yelloxo
rib bands, ihe&e are the emblems of jealousy
— not with * Fueille tnort/ 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 blue and black, that signifies con-
stancy till death ; but that was objected
to as those colors will never match.
Violet was proposed as signifying religicn :
this was objected to as being too grave .
and at last they concluded to mingle a
gold tissue with grass green, wliich latter
signifies youthful jollity. " For the
bride's favors, top-knots, and garters, the
bride proposed blue, gold color, lemon-
color, SfC Gold-color was objected to
as signifying avarice. The younger bride-
527
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 8.
maid proposed to mix willow and tmlk
white : the willow was excluded because
it signified for»aicen.*
A virtuouif ditcreetf and loving Wife.
Let no man value at a little price
A virtuous woman's counsaile ^ her wing'd
(tpirit
Is feathered oftentimes with heavenly
words ;
And (^like her beauty) ravishing, and pure
The weaVir bodie, still the stronger soule.
When good endeavours do her powers applie.
Her love draws nearest man's fclicitie.
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 lie 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 j in all things his svet
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 j and bows the strong-
est knees.
Yet cannot bend in rule the weakest hearts ,
Musick delights but one sense ; nor choice
meats ;
One quicK.ly 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 ;
No time is tedious with her ; her true worth
IMakes a true husband thinke his arms enfold
(^ With her alone) a compleatc world of golde.
Chapman f 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 llermon,
her eyes are fair as the light of heaven ;
she is a fountain sealed, and he can
quench his thirst, and ease his care^, 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, tlieir 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 condcEcend,
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 yoimg spring's first
green !
Children seem spirits from above descended.
To whom still cleaves heaven's atmosphere
serene ;
Their very wilJnesses with truth are blended :
Fresh from their skiey mould, they cannot be
amended.
Warm and uncalculatiiig, they're more wise —
More 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' Eternal
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.
0. Lloyd, 1821.
September 8. — Day breaks
Sun rises .
h. m.
, 3 25
, 5 27
— sets ... 6 33
Twilight ends . 8 3;'^
Late crocus, and naked crocus blow.
52tf
THE YEAR BOOK.— -SEPTEMBER 8.
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 Gough Nichols has compiled "Ac-
counts of fifty-five Royal Processions and
Entertainments in the City of London."
It is printed in octavo, and embellished
with a folding quarto plate (from which
the preceding engraving is copied), after
Vol. IV.
529
2 M
THE YEAR BOOK— SEPTEMBER 8.
one of seren very rare folio prints repre-
senting "ITie 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 15lh 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 sei out in the
streets pompous shows, and at night the
city 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.
S within s day, 1377, is remarkable. The
king, 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 w ine
with four towers, and in each tower a
beautiful virgin in 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 nobles ;
and on the top of the castle was a golden
angel, 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 ficfure, of scarcely less stature,
intended for his wife : around them
was a band of trjimpets and other
wind instruments : 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 gre^n 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 stood a
beautiful image of St. George, armed,
except his head, which was crowned with
laurel, studded with precious gems ; be-
hind him was crimson tape<;try, 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, g'rted, and in his left a scroll, ex-
tending a.ong the turrets, and inscribed,
Soli Deo Honor et 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 oi
hoary prophets, in golden coats and man-
tles, and their heads covered with gold
iSO
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 8.
and crimson ; who, when tlie 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 flutterea around
him: the prophets then sang the psalm,
Cuntate Domino canticum 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 their 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
kings. 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
Englond and of Iraunce :" 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 thaew boughs
of laurel, and sang, accompanied by
organs, Te Deum laudamus. 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 re-
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 twelve, 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 wi wards 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 arch 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 crown, 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 J^rch 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 o^
the princess Katherine of Spain, on oo-
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 of Brazil, when there were
twenty-four 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 least 20,000
crusadoes ; the Hamburgherg about 15,000."
^Whitehall Evening Post, Feb. 22, 1728-9.
631
THE YEAR BOOK.- -SEPTEMBER 8.
of Gracechurch-itrect " where the water
runneth into the channel," was fixed a
foundation of stone of three or four
feel high, having a passage for the current
of water as usual : on wliich foundation
was constructed a castle, formed of timber,
but covered with canvas painted to resem-
ble masonry. 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 nosey 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 g^ite, with folding leaves,
full of great bars of iron with nails, and
over the gate a large portcullis, havmg 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 the opening, stood
a Knight, armed cap-a-pi^, named Policy.
The building stretched on each side into
the adjoining windows and shops, with
two other portcullises embattlemented, 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 a knight with a head-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 Portculleys.
The prescribed limits restrain all notice
nere 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
VVoolston 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 1827, when tho gi
walked.
Old Triumphal Sokg
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 Lave
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
No princely port, nor wealthy store.
No force to win a victory ;
No wily wit to salve a sore ;
No shape to win a loving eye .
To none of these I yield as thrall ;
For why? my mind despise them all.
I see that plenty surfeits oft,
And hasty climbers soonest fall ;
I sec that such as are aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all.
These get with toil, and keep with fear 5
Such cares my mind can never bear.
I press to bear no haughty sway ;
I wish no more than may suffice ;
I do no more than well I may ;
Look, what I want my mind RupplicB :
Lo, thus I triumph like a king.
My mind content with any thing.
I laugh not at another's loss ;
Nor grudge not at another's gain ;
No worldly waves my mind can toss j
I brook what is another's bane ;
I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend ;
I loathe not life, nor dread my end.
My wraith 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 '
THE YEAR BOOK.-SEPTEMBER 9, 10.
September 9, 1759, died, at the age of
♦ighty-six, Thomas Bradbury, an eminent
liissenting minister, whose meeting-house,
in New-street, Shoe-lane, was lawlessly
destroyed by Sacheverel's mob. lie
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. Tlie principles of
the revolution, which called the house 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 friends. 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 mastiff dog.
Which, if tied up, so fierce will grow.
He'll bite his very clog."
September 9. — Day breaks
Sun rises .
h. m.
3 27
5 29
— sets ... 6 31
Twilight ends . 8 33
The nights and mornings become sen-
sibly colder, and are often frosty.
Sktvtcmttv 10.
Harvest-supper— The Mel-supper —
Kern-supper — Shouting 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 present,
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 appear to be the relics of Pagan
or .Jewish ceremonies, and carry in them
more meaning, and are of higher antiquity
than is generally apprehended. W^ehear iu
different counties, and often in the same
county, of mel-Kupper, churn-sypper, harvest
supper^ harvest home, feast of ingathering.
4c. The antiquity of the custom appears
from Exod. xxiii.16. "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, prior to this, Gen. vi. 3, " Cain
brought of the fruit of the ground, ar.d
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 primitae were sent by the people of
every nation to the temple of Apollo, ia
Delos, and by 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 tiedsjip 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 feast
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
633
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 10.
* far less valuable circumstance, i. e.
'homing tHe churn, is observed to this
day by the reapers, and from so old an
«ra; for we read of this acclamation, [Isa.
xvi. 9,j " 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,
whose 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
most agreeable to the founder.
The usage itself accounts for the name
of mcl-supper. Mel signifies meal, and tlie
instrument also called with us a mcll,
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 triell. "
The other names of this country fes-
tivity sufficiently explain themselves,
except c/iurn-supper. This is entirely
different from the w?c/-sMpper ; but they
penerally happen so near together that
they are frequently confounded. The
thurn-supper was always provided when
dl was shorn, but the mel-supper after all
was got in. It was called the churn supper
because, from immemoriil times, it was
customary to produce in a churn a great
Quantity of cream, and to circulate it by
ishfids to each of the rustic company, who
ale it wiih bread. Though this custom has
been disused in many places, or is agree-
ably commuted for by ale, yet it survires
still about Whitby and Scarborough, in
the east, and round about Guisburn, &c.,
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.
Churn, in our provincial pronunciation
kerrif 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,
corn, which continues according to its old
pronunciation in Cornwall, &c., and our
modern word horn is no more than this ;
the ancient hard sound of k in corn being
softened into the aspirate //, as has been
done in numberless instances. The Irish
CeltJE also call a round stone clough crene
when the variation is merely dialectic.
Hence, too, our cranr 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
/o7i;-largess," as they term it. Each party
is headed by a " lord o' th' harvest," who
is generally spokesman 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 and ;.o kind ; and
634
THE 7EAR BOOK.— SEFfEMBEH 10.
rfie total sum collected is equitably
divided at the close of the d-iy, when
" • The laughing hinds rejoice ;"
And
' The grateful farmer pays accepted thanks
With joy unfeigned."
E. H. B.
Harvest-home. — " Largess."
[For the Year Book.]
The sounds of rustic rejoicing, at the
close of harvest, fall pleasantly upon the
ear, and are affecting to the feelings of
a kind-hearted traveller : lie knows that
pleasure prevails among the toil-worn
laborers of a good-natured farmer.
Here, once a 3'ear, distinction lowers its crest.
The master, servant, and the merry guest.
Are equal all ; and round the happy ring
The reaper's eyes exulting glances fling ;
And, warmed with gratitude, he quits his
place.
With sun-burnt hands, and ale-rnlivened face.
Refills the jug his honored host to tend.
To serve at once the master and tJie friend ;
Proud thus to meet his smiles, to share his
tale,
llii nuts, his conversation, and his ale.
Bloomjield.
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
— first the fuelled chimney blazes wide j
The tankards foam ; and the strong table
groans
Beneath the smoking sirloin stretched im-
m:.^nse
From side to side, in which, with desperate
knife,
'J'hey 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 ;
I knocked the cask, " oh, oh !" says I,
We *ve almost conquer'd you.
» ♦ *
Twas near upon as light as noon ;
A largess, on the hill.
They shouted to the full round rnoon j
I think 1 hear them still.
Upon the breaking up of the " Hot-
key," the husbandmen of the farm assem-
ble upon some near eminence, or conspi-
cuous place, and lustily call out " Holla,
holla, holla,— Lrtrgcss." 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
shout of " largess" may be heard at a great
distance, and the lengthened sound is
very peculiar and pleasing. They repeal
the shout as often as they have received
" largess," and then, with some parting
merriment, which the " brown October"
often makes obstreporous, they close an
evening, the anticipation of which had
che^ired 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 lieautiful 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 fanners 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. DOOWRUH.
h. m.
September 10. — Day breaks . . 3 30
Sun rises . . 5 31
— sets . . i 6 29
Twilight ends . 8 30
Officinal saffroo blows.
635
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 10.
CHERTSEY FARTHING.
[For the Year Book.]
Above is a copy of a Farthing in my
possession, inscribed on one side, *' this
FARTHING MADE FOR," on the Other side,
*' CHERTSEY IN SURREY, 1668." As the
inscription implies, it was once a current
coin of the town : it is now very scarce.
Around tlie third bell of Chertsey
church is the following inscription, in
monkish characters about an inch and a
half high, " * ORA * MENTE * PIA * PRO *
NOBIS • Vinco * MARIA V 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
Vni. finally underwent the fate of the
religious houses.
Shakspeare 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 interr'd.
At ( hertsey monast'ry, this noble king.
And •wet his grave with my repentant tears —
I 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.
Farthings.
A farthinsr 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
»t» that it might be divided into the half-
Img, 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 V^I., a petition was
presented to the House of Commons,
stating, that for default of half-pence and
farthings, men "travaillingover Contrees,
for part of their expences of necessitee,
must depart our Soveraigne Lorde'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, t
James I. granted by patent, to Frances,
duchess of Richmond, the monopoly of
coining farthings for seventeen years. §
Queen Annes 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 dei gratia,
and on the reverse Britannia 1714. In
the finest condition it is not worth more
than twenty shillings, or, with the broad
rim, thirty shillings. There were patterns
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'fc Ency. of Antiquities.
t Antiq. Repertory.
X Andrew's Hist. G. Britain.
§ Rymer.
II Fosbrok«5.
536
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 11.
Sktpttmttt 11.
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 priests, 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. Thf-y 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 time he expressly
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 having 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 o/
637
THE YEAR BOOK.-SEPl'EMBER 11.
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 Lorelto, and made a vow
to extirpate heresy from his dominions,
on condition that the virgin would render
his arms succssful. lie reinstated the
Jesuits, and they advised him to begin
with that part of the Baptists whose
principles would not allow them to make
any resistance, and who would remove at
a word, without giving his majesty the
troul>le of putting them to death.
The 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, others 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 among 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 o<
these Baptists. The emperor's chaplains,
who were privy counsellors, talked of
heresy : but it was difficult to bring a
direct charge against a people who had
no public faith, and who never attacked
any religion by publishing creeds. They
could not be charged with perjury, for
they had never taken any oatns, 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 ex|)ectalion was placed on the
superintending providence of God. —
Prince Lichtenstein, 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.
F'erdinand 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 ; U 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 rus»et 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 their
538
THE YEAE BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 11,
tender offspring : 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 infants 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 off, some to Hungary, otiiers 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 ; but, 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 precarious 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. 623 — 534.
hereditary dominions. Granger refers
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 patience and
even magnanimity. So engaging was her
beliaviour, 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, 1 661 , 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 Ru-
pert, another son, who joined Charles I.
m arms, there is an account of in a pre-
vious page. Prince Maurice, their tliird
son, 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 Lr.wis, 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 VnncessEUzabethf 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.
639
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPl'EMBER 12.
in the det 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 h&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
540
THE YEAR BOOK- SEPTEMBER 13.
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 m 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 effort, was determined it should
be his best." He was interred in the
abbey, in a spot marked by himself.*
September 12.— Day hveaks . . 3 35
Sun rises . . 5 35
— sets ... 6 25
Twilight ends . 8 25
Wasps abundant.
Sk^i^ttmttt 13.
13lh 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 comfortless condition he endeavoured
to take repose. A forked stick, found in
the pit, he placed diagonally against the
* Gents. Magazine
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 1 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 full 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
vain, 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-
541
THE YEAR BOOK.-SEPTEMBER 14.
qutintance sent two or three porters out
purposely to search the pits for nie.
These men went to the miller's house,
and made enquiry for me; but, on ac-
count of the very great rain at the time,
they nerer entered the wood, but cruelly
returned to their employers, telling them
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 his
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 siill 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
* 1 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 entered 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,
how 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 and 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 ?ndured. 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 then 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," he
says, " in a sedan-chair, for the benefit of
the air, being exactly nine months from
the day J 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. — George
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.
S^tpttmtn 14.
14th of September, 1714, died Thomas
Britton, the celebrated " musical small-
coal man." He was born near Higham
* Gentleman's Magazine.
642
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 14.
Ferrers, Northamptonshire, 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. lie
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 frequently seen 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; leaving
nis 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 ventrjloquia'i friend, who met him,
and during a musical conversation pro-
nounced these words distinctly as from a
distance: — "Thomas Britton, go home,
for thou shalt die." Honest Tom, sup-
posing the voice to have proceeded from
an angel, went home, depressed in spirits,
took to his bed, and died. He was
burled 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 Wollaston pre-
vailed upon him to sit twice for his
portrait, one of which is in the British
Museum. He is represented m 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 Hawkms'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.
Though doomed to sma.i-coal, yet to arts
allied ;
Rich without wealth : and famous without
pride.
Music's best patron ; judge of books and men;
Belov'd 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 sav'd
Had Kneller painted, and had Vertue
'grav'd.
Until now there has not occurred an
opportunity of inserting the following
communications.
French and English Manners.
Dancing — The Fico — Kissing — Ear
Rings — Sabre de bois.
Morley, near Leeds.
April 9th. 1331.
Mr. Hone, — The time of year has now
come when our neighbours the French will
begin to think of turning om^ to enjoy their
beautiful village dance upon the green,
while our lower orders are turnmg 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 prctestants 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
643
THE YEAR BOOK—SEPTEMBER 15.
Yorkshire we have amongst our lowenl
orders a siill more contemptuous and
ludicrous word as a substitute for " Fij,'/'
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 ihem, which is
a disgrace to them if they bear it." —
" Dags and Pistols ! — to bile his thumb at
me 1" Again — " Behold I see contempt
marching forth, giving me the I't'co" —
(Lodges Wit's Miserie 1596.) t
To bite the Kar, 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. 184
and 212, 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 >onson.
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, " perniettez
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 pockets, and if you find
there
Comfits of ambergrease to help our Kistei
Conclude uf faulty" &c.
And was not this the custom in 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 Daedalus.
For, just to touch on one thing out of
many here, there are lasses with heavenly
faces; kind, obliging, and you would far
prefi r them to all your Muses. There is,
beside*, a practice never to be sufficiently
commended. If you go to any place you
are receiveil 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 Zeiss 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 nothing but kisses — and
if you, Faustus, had but once tasted them!
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 " Sahre de bois," 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
nncient 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,
Y'ours very respectfully,
NORRISSON SCATCUERD.
h m.
September 14. — Day breaks . . 3 39
Sun rises . . 5 39
— sets ... 6 21
Twilight ends . 8 23
Rough rudbeckia flowers.
S^trmlier 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-
5U
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 15.
MUIBUOUSE, EAGLESHAM, RENFREWSHIRE.
THE BmTH-PLACE OF ROBERT POLLOK.
In liumble dwelling born, retired, remote,
In rural quietude, 'mongst hills and streams
And melancholy deserts, where the sun
Saw as he passed a shepherd only, here
And there, watching his flock
POLLOK.
[For tne "\ ear Hook. J
On the 15th of September, 1827, dieu
Robert Pollokf author of "The Course of
Time, a Poem in ten books." He was
born at Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, in 1799,
" of parents whom God made of kindest
heart." They appear to 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,
*he testimony of a good conscience and
the favor of God.
It seems that whilst a mere boy he was
remarkably thoughtful, seldom joining in
those frivolities which usually characterize
that period of life ; and from a very eariy
age evinced a relish for the beauties of
nature, and a capacity of enjoying them,
rarely to be met with. The sc»;nery 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 influence 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."
lie 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, instnict,
elevate, and purify the aflTectiona.
Vol. IV.
545
2 N
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 16.
" His spirit drank
The spcctkclo ; scnsalion, soul, &nhcn ;
Had eyes, and saw not j ears, and nothing
heard j
And sought— souglit 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
held.
Or give idea of, to those who read."
Course of Time.
h. m.
September 15 — Day breaks . . 3 42
Sun rises , . 5 41
— sets . . 6 19
Twilight ends . 8 18
A^aricus verucosus appears in abun-
dance.
Alliterative Advertisement.
This date is attached to the foUowinor
anMOuncement, printed a; a handsome
hand-bill, which appeared at Manchester
in 1829,— viz.
Spanker,
The property of O** D«*.
Saturday, the 16th of September nexi,
will be sold, or set up for sale, at Sicibber-
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 atately ; free from strain, sprain,
spavin, spasms, stringhalt, sciatica, stag-
gers, strangles, seeling, sellander, surfeit,
seams, strumous-swellings, sorrances,
scratches, splint, squint, scurf, sores,
scattering, shuffling, sh ambling-gait, or
symptoms of sickness of any sort. He is
neither stiff-mouthed, shabby -eoate J,
sinew-shrunk, spur-galled, saddle-backed,
shell-toothed, slim-gutted, surbated, sk>u-
otS
THE YEAR BOOK. -SEPTEMBER 17.
scabbed, short-winded, splay-footed, or
shoulder-slipped ; and is sound in the
sword-pomt and stifle-joint. Has neither
sick spleen, sleeping evil, set-fast, snag-
gle-teeth, sand-crack, subcutaneous sores,
or shattered 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, stop;?, shakes, snivels,
snuffles, 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. Carriei
sixteen stone with surprising speed in his
stroke over a six-foot sod or stone wall.
His sire was the Sly Sobersides 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
ittign 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 \6. — Daybreaks. . 3 44
Sun rises . . 5 43
— sets . . . 6 17
Twilight ends . 8 16
Michaelmas daisies ilower ii warn/ si
tuations.
Sttptmittv 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 ago, and robbed of half the earth
that used at once to support lad 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 mounted 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 ! As I am alive, the egg
of some animal !"
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.
Slie 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 an
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 arising 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 to
649
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 17.
be big with life : an egg just disclosing a
fine white worm.
Nature has so provided for the winged
.ribe of insects, that they all of them pass
a pari of their lives, and thai, indecl,
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 e%^ : the creature is
therefore covered with a peculiar skin,
under 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 its parent, out of the dis-
guise of its reptile state.
Tlie 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
mud; when the time of its appearing
under the fly state approaches, it leaves
the water, and the perfect insect bursts
from its case o«i 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, from ignorance that the
food for their 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 eggs
the tiny worms necessarily fall into the
water, where every thing requisite u oro*
vided for their sustenance.
Cicero, in the first book of his Tnsculan
Questions, finely exposes the vain judf^-
ment we are apt to form of the duration
of human life. In illustrating his argu-
ment, he quotes a passage of natu.al nis-
lory from Aristotle, concerning a species
of insects on the banks of the river lly-
pani?, 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 ffira of their creation.
Let us now suppose that this venerable
insect, this Nestor of Ilypanis, should a
little before his death, and about sun-set,
send for all his descendants, his friends,
and his acquaintance; cut of the desire he
may have to impart his last thoughts to
them, and admonish them with his depart-
ing breath. They meet, perhaps, under
the spacious shelter of a mushroom ; and
the dying sage addresses himself to them
after the following maimer : —
" Friends and fellow-citizens 1 1 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, ana there is
nothing new to me under the sun. The
calamities and revolutions I have seen m
my country ; the mar ifold private misfor-
650
THE YEAE BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 18.
lines to which we are all liable; and the
^atal 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 I 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
hail ; 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 (I 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 tlmi 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 sky, 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 immense 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
flatter mjself 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 I 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-
nle, we may send the ambitious or thn
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.
Sktpttnxttv 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, Uevonshire,
and W^iltshire. 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, tlian in perseveringly
applying it. He soon relinquished the
pencil for the pen, which he wielded witl
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 easle
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 pos-
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 collecting
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.
651
THE YEAR BOOK— SEPTEMBER 18.
RUSH BEARING IN LANCASHIRE.
This engraving is derived from sketchr s Rochdale Lancashire^
accompanying the following communica- May 31, 1825.
tion, which was originally designed by a Mr. Hone,
respected correspondent for the Every- As the custom of rush-bearing prevails
Day Book ; but, which, in expectation of in this part of the country, and you have
other contributions on the same subject, not noticed the practice, I send you a
was not inserted in that work. sketch of a rush cart and banner, gene-
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 18.
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
commerce, 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 ruslies 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
colors, joined by narrow riband fretted,
the whole profusely covered on both sides
with roses, stars, &c., of tinsel (which m
this part is called horse gold), and which,
being viewed when the sun shines upon
it, dazzles the eye. The banners are gene-
rally from four to five yards broad, and
six to eight yards long, having on either
side in the centre a painting of Britannia,
the king's arms, or some other device.
The whole procession is flanked by men
with 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 scufille 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, which
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 Ashworih, Littlebro, Minbrow,
Shaw, Oldham, Royton, Middleton, Hey-
wood, and VVhitworth; 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. lie resided at
Marland, and for a number of years after-
wards, in commemora'.ion of his death,
each of the yoiiug 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-bearing, and Perambulating.
Morley, near Leeds, May 4, 1831.
Mr. Hone,
An account of a " Rush-bearing,'
in Whitaker's Richmondshire, as far a.
my observation has extended, is quite
correct. He says, —
553
wHE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 18.
•* This ceremony, at Warlon, appears
tc Vave 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 houses ; 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 they 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, with music,
drums, ringing of bells, &c. When they
arrive at the church, they go in at tiie icest
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 conrenient place."
llushbearings 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 Lancashire, 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 ha?
been no necessity to strew tlie churches ;
and this part of the ceremony has, gene-
rally, if not always, been dispensed with.
. can, however, refer to one place where
the whole ceremony (with the exception
of the May-pole dance) is gone through,
In proof of this see also Drake's lllustra-
tions, i. 210.
and that place is Grassmere, noticed m
vol ii. p. 277 of your Table-Book. Tliis
place (in a pedestrian excursion to the
lakes) I visited in 1828, 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 1 found tlie
very seat floors all unpaved,* unboarded,
and the bare ground only strewed with
rushes. My eye was also particularly at-
tracted by the paper garlands which T found
deposited in the vestry : they were curi-
ously and tastefully cut, and I was almost
tempted to beg one of them. 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 limiii 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 the
devil, after prevailing on the first and
second day before, or, under the law, was,
on the * thyrd daye of grace, by the pas-
si( II 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 Westmcr-
land, Cumberland, &c., have never been
ceiled, or, as we call it in Yorkshire, under-
drawn.
t In our churchwardens' accounts I find
notices of this curious ceremony.
554
THE YEAK BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 18.
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 customs, unrecorded in your pub-
lications, shall be acceptable, they will
be at your service.
I remain, Sir,
Yours obediently,
NORRISSON SCATCHERD.
Rush-bearing — Egg-settino Charm —
Black Pudding Charm — Yule Cy-
der — 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, [ 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
Is. 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 is 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,
" iris pseudo-acorus," has been substituted.
The flags were formerly strewed from the
great west door to the entrance of the
mayor'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 tliis service.
I am informed tliat 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 tlie time, as a
charm, to prevent hawks, crows, or other
birds of prey, flying away with the young
gosslings or duck.«, 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 fromTawney 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 wascustoma»)
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.
Nckt Wednsday 25th of nay there will be at
East Tuddenham Bull Jingling matches
for Hats Jumping in Sacks Catching a pig
with the
Tail greazed climbing of a pole of women
Runing
For Snuff old men for tobacco there will be also
A place Reserved for Dancing and Seats will
be Also Reserved for the Leades there will be
A band cf 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,"
555
THE YEAR BUOK.— SEPTE^IBEIi 19.
which Major Moor in his Suffolk words,
under " Foury-leet," says is an old word
for a meeting.
GoDDAUD Johnson
A great numher of notices concerning
Rush-bearing may be found scattered in
different works, and many are collected
together by Mr. Brand among his " Popu-
lar Antiquities."
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, 3rf." In the accounts of
1493, there is charged " for 3 Burdens of
Rushes for the new pews, Zd. In similar
accounts for the ^''irish of St. Margaret's
Westminster, 1554, 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, \xd." Newton's Herball
to the Bible, 1587, mentions " Sedge and
Rushes, with the which many in the
country do use in sommer lime 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 rushes. 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, Summerings, a- d
Rush bearings, preferring that act whereby
pipers were made rogues, ov Act of Par-
liaments, before any in all the Acts and
Monumenti.'^ Speaking of a pedlar the
author says : **A Countrey Hush-bearings
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, or Muy-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 Church in summer with Haj/ 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 his 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
Dandelot, what especiall thinges he had
noted in England, during the time of his
negociation there : he answered that he
had scene but three things remarkable,
which were, that the people did drinke in
bootes, eatrawe fish, and strewed all their
best roomes with Ilai/, meaning blacke
Jackes, Oysters, and Rushes.'* It were
needless to multiply instances of this gen-
eral custom of strewing rushes in old
times.*
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-
ing itself in a glass, 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 seed*
of thistle, teasel, hemp, dock, &c.
• Brand
566
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEIVIBER
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
breast ; the red, yellow, and, in short, all
his colors, are much brighter than those
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. Tt is not very 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 cannot be ap-
proached without the hazard of damaging
the bloom or young fruit. 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 goldfincn, brought up under
the woodlaric, the canary, or any other
fine singing bird, will take their song very
readily. It is said that a lady had one of
Jies2 birds which talked very finely.
The length of a full-grown goldfincFi,
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, oi
some of the seeds they feed upon in the
meadows. They may soon be brought
to ei.; canary seed, which is more whole-
some.*
There sat upon the linden-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 thoughts of love
There cherish' d long ago.
' thousand years to me it seems
Since by my fair I sate,
et thus t* have been a stranger long
Was not my choice, hut fate :
Since then I have not seen tho flowers.
Nor heard the birds' sweet song ;
My joys have all too briefly past.
My griefs been all too long.
Dietmar von Ast^ 13th Cent.
h. m,
September I'd. — Daybreaks. . 3 51
Sun rises . . 5 48
— sets . . 6 12
Twilieht ends . 8 9
Maitins congregate.
^rptetntier 20.
20th of September, 1815, died, at the
great age of ninety-two, William Hut-
ton, Esq., F. S. A., the historian of
i3irmingham and Derby, eminent in an
tiquities for his itinerary of the Roman
» Alb a.
557
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 21.
vrall, 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 beliind 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 tiie
powers of tl;e 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 fired 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 man enviable,
his dress beautiful, and his staff desirable.
1761. March 8. I went to Middleton
{about ten or twelve miles] before break-
ast, 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.
No MAN CAN 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
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 disf osing us to love
or hate. Or, if not these, the variation of
the body's humours ; or, perhaps, not
any of these. The soul ic 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 povvf;rful 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 time, liath left me unsa-
Inted 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 Felltham, 1636.
h. m.
September 20. — Day breaks . . 3 53
Sun rises . . 5 50
— sets . . , 6 10
Twiligltt ends . 8 7
Green gage and other plums still plen-
tiful.
S^temlier 2i.
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
558
THE YEAR BOOK.-SEPTEMBEE 22. 23.
and beard with water from a ditch. His
Darber telling him that cold water must
serve for this time, the miserable king,
looking sternly upon him, said " that
whether 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
September 21. — Daybreaks. , 3 55
Sun rises . . 5 52
— sets ... 6 8
Twilight ends . 8 5
^tptttntev 22.
Major John Bernardi.
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 tjiirty 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 he 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 in
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 in 1696,
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 punishment, he died in
Newgate at the age of eighty-two.*
h. m.
September 22. — Day breaks , . 3 58
Sun rises . . 5 54
— sets .,.66
Twilight ends . 8 2
Small (summer) bergamot pears ripe.
* Noble.
*rptfmlier 23.
Obsolete Customs.
Embracing — Pueaciiing Coverko —
The Dance on the Green.
[From the same Correspondent.]
Morlcy, 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
Letters, 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 triend
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 favore«l the public with an accept-
able engraving. In short, between the
holiday sports and pastimes of the French,
their spectacles and shows, and habits in
church, and those of our forefathers in
times long 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 tha»
at the name of Christ every woman curt
sey and every man take off his cap. In
559
THE YEAR BOOK— SEPTEMBER 24.
1CC3 was an order that all persons be
uncovered in the churches. On the re-
storation of Charles II., ihece 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 tlirough-
out England in former times. The pas-
sage has just struck my eye, and it illus-
trates my subject very appropriately.
" Onc-5 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 ]>artook ; at the same time the
young people danced upon the green-
swardf 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.
September 23
. — Day breaks .
Sun rises
h,
. 4
5
m.
56
Autumnal
— sets . .
Twilight ends
pears ripe.
6
8
4
Sktptmxttv 24.
QUALIFICATION'S OF A WlFE.
These are set forth in the " Worcester
Journal 1761" to the following effect, —
Great good-nature, and a prudent ge-
nerosity.
A lively look, a proper spirit, and
a cheerful disposition.
A good jerson, 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 se.'oe, 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 tongue.
In spelling a little becoming deficiency ;
and in the doctrine of punctuation (or
what is generally call'd stoppihg) 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 than minuets.
An acquaintance with domestic news,
but no acquaintance with foreign.
Not entirely fond of quadrille, but a
little given to whist.
In conversation a little of the lisp, but
not of the stammer
POETRY.
By Froissart, XIV. Centuhy.*
Parting.
The body goes, the spirit stays ;
Dear lady, till we meet, farewell !
Too fitr from thee my home must be ;
The body goes, the sou! 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 \
The body goes, the soul may stay.
Invitation to Return.
Return, my love ; too long thy stay ;
Sorrow for thee my soul has stung ;
Bly 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
♦ Lays of the Minne«nger».
560
THE YEAE BOOK— SEPTEMBER 24.
DOWIE'S TAVEEN, LIBBERTON'S WYND, EDINBURGH,
FREQUENTED BY THE LATE ROBERT BURNS.
This engraving is from an original
drawing in 1831, lay Mr. William Geikie,
obligingly communicated with the fol-
lowing article : —
[To Mr. Hone. J
Edinburgh, May 10, 1831.
I have sent you a sketch of a Tavern,
which, for the last quarter of the last cen-
tury, was the resort of all the revelling
wits of our " Gude Town." Robert
Burns 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 being taken
down (it being immediately in the line to
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 the
" gousty viver," and the exhilarating
potions, which were nr.inistered to them",
drew them " nothing loth" to its " douce
coulhie cozy canty ingles." Few stran-
gers omitted to call in to gaze at the
coffin of the bard — this was a small dark
room, which could barely accommodate,
even by squeezing, half a dozen ; but in
which Burns used to 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.
Vol. IV.
561
20
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 21.
The house is situated in a steep lane,
Scotttcc " VVynd," but which was a place
ot nij^o note when its neighbourhood was
tne 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 CTer-coming customers — awaken the
sober reflection, that time is quickly pass-
ing on, and making the things tliat 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.
Dowie's Taveun.
Dowic*s 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 is now (adds Mr. Chambers, in 1825,
hinc illae lachrymae ! )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."
Dowies 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-painter 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 Maut 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 Dmvie was the sleekest and
kindest of landlords. Nothing could
equal the benignity of his smile, when he
brought in d bottle of " the ale," lo a
company of well-known and friend,
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 bottle,)and then his
douce civility in withdrawing. Johnnie
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. ''
Drunken Lawyers.
"Any drunken lawyer of the last cen-
tury — "says Mr. Ci)anibers. His meaning
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
tavern somewhere in the High street; at
seven in the morning ha drove home;
slept two hours, and, mounting the bench
at the proper time, showed himself as well
qualified to perform his duty as if his
fancy had been on this side, instead 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
IIL, who laughed at it very heartilv.
562
THE YEAE BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 24.
While an advocate, and then plain Mr-
Hay, a country client, coming to town
for the puipose of consulting hirn, en-
quired of some of Mr. Hay's friends at
what hour it was proper to call upon him,
and was informed that the most propitious
time was four oclock, immediately be-
fore the lawyer sal 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, that, 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! 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 lucquey that
Mr. Hay could not possibly see him —
being at dinner. "At dinner!" cried
the enraged applicant ; " Sirrah, did you
not tell rae that /our was his dinner-hour,
and now it wants a quarter of it ! " — " Yes
sir," said the servant ; " but it is not his
this days but his yesterday^ 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 Saturday-nights' debauches,
he stumbled among the sootyman'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 church-going hour, roused him
from his dirty lair in the full view of
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 })laying
at " High Jinks," in Mrs. 's best
room, the very next apartment contained
.heir equally joyous clerks who transacted
the same buffooneries, drank the same
liquor, swore the same oaths, and retailed
the yesterday's jokes of their masters. A
housand pictures might be drawn, and
^en thousand anecdotes related, of tliese
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 MiddlemassU 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,
when apparently both blind and insen-
sible, he found himself at a table in his
master's bed-room, required to write 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 Edinburgh Taverns.
Among the remarkable old taverns were
Miles Machphaiis (who was nicknamed
Lord North, on account of his personal
resemblance to that celebrated minister)
— Luckie Jaup's in Bailie Fyfe's close —
Metcalfe'sy 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. FlockharVs.
This landlady seems to have been the
" Mrs. Flockhart of Waverly."
Mrs. Flockhart, or, as she was more
ordinarily called, l.uckie Fykie, was a neat,
563
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 24.
little, thin woman, usually habited in a
plain, striped blue gown, and apron of
the same stuff', with a white " mutch,"
having a black ribbon round the head,
and lappets brought down along the
cheeks and tied under the chin. She was
well to do in the world ; as the umquhile
.lohn 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, ftutter,
sand, caum stane, nerrings, nails, 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 Dristo street, and was well-looked-upon
by all her neighbours, on account of the
quality of h^r risjlors. Her 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 :
1
DWELLING HOUSE.
BHOP
1 A Screen.
i
I
HOTEL.
Closet. 1 b
1
« 1 I--I
Door.
Poltcr-row.
Mrs. Flockhart's customers were very
numerous and respectable, including Mr.
Dundas, afterwards lord Melville, — lord
Stonefield, — lord Braxfield, — Sheriff
Cockhurn, — 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. Flockliart engaged with customers,
was, to salute her with " Hoo do ye doo,
mem ? " and a coup de chapeau, and then
walk " ben " to the room, where, upon
the bunker seat of the window, they found
three bottles, severally 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 th,.
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 hy Mrs. Flock-
hart's own skilful hands. This enter-
tainment, termed a " soss," was always
laid out on the bunker seat in the closet,
which was covered with a clean 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 hands 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 I) 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's Entry, whil<» enjoying the
said annuity.
Daunie^s.
Daniel Douglas's Tavern, or, as it was
more commonly called, Daunie'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. " DuU-
nic'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 Pleydells 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, indicatinga gallery within, alonp
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
56 i
THE YEAR BOOK.- SEPTEMBER 24.
respectable taverns in Edinburgh. It
could only be reckoned inferior to the
Star and Garter, in Writer's court, which
was kept by Clerihugfi, 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
aDKj Douglas's was by a low narrow passage,
and up a few steps — in every respect re-
sembling the description of Pleydell'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-gown, '.Yith 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. She
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 have 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 effect of his quiet
habits, that b« 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 house,
and being attended by Duwnie, 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, — quietlj/. "
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. "
Daunie's Tavern was remarkable, above
all otlier things, for its cheap and com-
fortable suppers. V^ast numbers of people
of every rank and profession, not except-
ing noblemen and judges, used to frequent
it on this account. Tripe, minced coUops,
rizzared haddocks, and haches, were the
general fare ; and, what will surprise
modern hosts, as well as modern guests,
sixpence a-head A^as the humble charge
for all these plenteous purveyances ! Yet,
such were the effects of Daniel's good
management, that he got rich upon these
charges, and left Mrs. Douglas, when he
died, in very good circumstances.
The convivialities of the time appear to
have often assumed the shape of supper-
parfies. 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
afforded 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 quests, at their entry, of cor
665
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 26.
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, lighted from both sides.
The latter was the scene of many 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.
rule they observed of obliging themscnej
to throw all they left in the cup in their
own faces ; wherefore, to save their faces
and clothes, they prudently suck'd thp
liquor clean out."
High Jinks
This drinking sport, well known m
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 Hj/-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 with 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 Hi/-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-
ticle.' are (1) Drink. (2) Draw. (3) Fill.
(4) V.'ry Hy-jinks. (5) Count just. (6)
Choose your doublet man, viz. when two
equal numbers of the dice are thrown,
the person whom you choose must pay a
double 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; for a covet-
ous man may save money, and get him-
self as drunk as he can desire, in less
than -^a 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
A DlUNKlNO SoNa.
Fill the cup, the bowl, the glass.
With wine and spiriis high.
And we will drink, while round they pass,
To — Vice and Misery !
Push quickly round the draught agaia
And drink the goblet low ;
And drink in revelry's swelling strain.
To — Reason** overthrow.
Push round, push round, in qtiickest time.
The lowest drop bo spent.
In one loud round, to — Guilt and Cnme
And Crime's just punishment !
Fill fill again I— 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 mirth and 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, '
Drink !— To ourselves Disease and Puin,
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 often
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 jewellery, coin, and si-
milar articles sometimes found in the
stomachs of these voracious birds, had
been previously swallowed by their prey.
EpiTAni.
In (he Churchyard of Hythc,
His net old fisher George long drew.
Shoals upon shoals he caught,
*Till Death came hauling for his due,
And made poor George his draught.
British Traveller.
566
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 26.
Death fishes on through various shapes;
In vain il is to fret ;
Nor fish or fisherman escapes
Death's all-enclosing net.
h. m
September 25. — Day breaks ,.44
Sun rises . G
— sets ... 6
Twilight ends . 7 56
Various species of cereopsis, helianthus,
radbukin, and other late syngenecian
plants abound.
Sktpttmfitv 26.
Booksellers of Little Britain.
The last of the old booksellers in Little
Britain was Ballard, remarkable for cu-
rious divinity catalogues, who died to-
wards the close of the last century. The
Hon. Roger North gives an account of
the place, and some of the fraternity in
the century preceding. He says, "Mr.
Robert Scott, of Little Britain, was, in
his time, the greatest librarian in Europe;
for, besides his stock in England, he had
warehouses at Francfort, Paris, and other
places, and dealt by factors. After he
was grown old and much worn by multi-
plicity of business, he began to think of
his 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; whereby
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 hU 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 his 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 a
well spent there as (in latter days) either
in taverns or coffee-houses, though the
latter hath carried off the spare time oi
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 r(>fusc,
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 wliat
the country divines and gentry send for,
of whom each one has his book-factor ;
and, 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-booksellers make ; they crack their
brains to find out selling subjects, and
ksep hirelings in garrets, on hard meat,
to Avritc and correct by the groat; so pufl
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 Baleman, Innys,
and one or two more, where are best
choice and better pennyworths." Li
Geoffrey Crayon's Sketch Book there is
a delightful paper on the residents in
Little Britain.
h. m.
September 26. — Day breaks .46
Sun rises ..62
— sets ... 5 50
Twilight ends . 7 54
Damsons and buUices ripening fast.
«A HALF HOLIDAY.
[For ihc Year Book.]
One sultry summer's afternoon, having
a little business to transact at Deptford,
I quitted the city betimes, resolving not
to return to it that day, but after accom-
plishing my purpose to wander wherever
my inclination might lead rne.
567
THE YEAR BOOK.—SEPTEMBER 26.
•Pw renerable 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, which grin horribly on the piers
of the church-yard gates.
Passing the slm'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 here copied : —
INCEPTUS.
IV. JUN : MDCCCXIV.
dik: nat: geoh: hi. lxxvii.
ann : reg : liv.
fijjitus
iv. jun : mdcccxv.
die: NAT : ceo: hi. lxxviii.
ANN : REG : LV.
I remained for some minutes looking up 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 the distance, on
me 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
been constructed by the Romans, but
used afterwards by the Danes, who 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
remerabrauoe the "composure" follow-
ing, made long since on an old bone
picked up within the limits of this same
:amp —
Bonus ! Itooa ' Bonuin f »hiclt mt-aiu, you
knww.
He-! one, she-bone, bone of the neuter gender.
Or liy what name soever ihou may'st go.
Bone of a certain age, tough bone or tender !
Art thou a rib of that illu.striou!> Dane
Iliglit Swcyne by those old rogues who wr'it«
his history ?
Or part and parcel of some other swain ?
Speak, if thou ranst speak, anil resolve tlir
mystery !
riiou wort, aforetime, that which now ihou a»t
(For ceitain things change nut with chang-
ing time).
Haply, some hard, unyiehling, Bonypurt
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 sij^ht 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. 1
half raised myself to look around, and,
though every thing was boisterously
happy, derived little satisfaction from the
scene, my heart melting within me and
becoming lapidly 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 higli 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 flrwers 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, snd soon reached
• Woi-dsworth.
568 .
THE YEAR BOOK— SEPTEMBER 26.
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 leaion.
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 cling, and straggling oaks
protrude
Theirpollard trunks, with ivy close cnwreathed ;
While slender ashlins 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
Witli 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
• Blackbeutb, 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
myself, in the words of good old Herbert, —
** Sweet peace,where dost thou dwell I humbly
crave
Let me once know 2**
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 I 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
takon.
the above engraving is
509
THE YEAR BOOK. -SEPTEMBER 27.
I passed an hour in ils cemetery, con-
ning ever lite epitapli.s wiih which it
abounds, and listening to the little folks
whose " young ideas " were just learning
lo shoot with Dilworth for a primer,
and Priscian for a butt, 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 * tub' which they stumbled on,
to the manifest discomfiture of their
wortliy 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
vs'orthy 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 Ttrnoennj/, esq.," and that he
died the 9th Dec. 1766, aged 57.
Before quitting the spot, I copied the
following lints, which are prettily modu-
lated, though the idea expressed in then.
is by no means original, —
" Early, bti^bt, 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 before the scene of
strife.
And fled for refuge to Lor 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 n:y 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 ponder
rous door covered v/ith rust and mildew,
and half hidden by the huge fern-leaves
fringing its " devouring mouth, " and
stragglmg in wild profusion over the crazy
steps leading to it.
Srptrmtitv 27.
27th September, 1788, dipd, aget
seventy.four. Sir Robert Taylor, knight,
architect to the Bank of I'.ngland, and
other public offices. His father was the
great stone-mason of his lime, and got a
vast deal of money; but could not keep
what he got. Wlien 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. lie,
therefore, worked in good earnest, ad-
vanced himself in art by application, and
what could be done ho 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 the Bank constitute
his finest public work. Lord Griniston'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. As the archi-
tect of his own fortune, there is no in-
stance in art like it. Kent died worth
£10,000, and Gibbs about £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
670
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 28.
£180,000; and yet he said "when he
began life he was not worth eighteen
pence I" This astonishing accumulation
was tlie 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 evening, a stated
fortion of their tmie to religious duties,
n the moral wisdom of life they were
equally to be envied. Sir Robert T?ylor
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 declared,
and the reliance was never disappointed.
His conduct as sheriff of London and
Middlesex in 1783 was exemplary, and
he was then knighted. His time, 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.
• Geiits^ Magazine.
Sktu^ttmhtv 28.
Milton's Blindness.
[For the Year-Book.]
28 September, 1654. Under this date
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 subioined. It
is addressed to Leonard Philaras, an
Athenian, and forms part of a small col-
lection of Milton's *' Familiar Letters,"
published by Brabazon Aylmer in 1674.
H. B. Andrews.
Milton s Letter.
" 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 make me an excellent com-
pensation for the attachment which I
have 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 an immense distance
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-
mended me not to relinquish all hopes cf
recovering my sight, as you have a most
intimate friend in Mr. Thevenot, a phy-
sician of Paris, who is celebrated for his
successful 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 reject
assistance from any quarter which per-
haps may be providently sen* for my
relief.
" It is now I believe ten years, more or
less, since I found my sight growing weak
and dim; 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 1
•was accustomed to do, my eye balls
571
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 28.
inbtantly pained me, and slirunk from
their office, 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
aAerwards a darkness, which began in the
left part of my eye (for that eye was dim
»ome years before the other) concealed
ev»?ry 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
Phineas in Apollonius : —
In purple niist profound
His eyes involv'tl, seem on its centre deep
To see old earth turn round, while mute he
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, thera
used to shine forth an abundance of light;
and afterwards, as the light was daily on
the decrease, colors of a darkish cast
rashed 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 cin-
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 ot
God, that his eyes can avail him. Surely
while he regards, wiiile he considers me,
as he certainly does, aud leads me, as it
were, by the hand as a guide through the
whole of my life, I cannot but willingly
resign my sight to him, who has so or-
dained it. I bid you adieu, my dear
Philaras, with as constant and fixed affec-
tion as if I had the sight of Lynceas."
Autumn, and particularly the Evening
of Autumn^ has been a chosen season for
study and reflectioii 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
Equinox.
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, lie 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 burst-
ing gems,
Marks the first bud, 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 vain.
In summer he, beneath the living shade.
Such as o'er frigid Tempe wont to wave
Or Hemus cool, reads what the Muse, of
these
Perhaps, has m immortal ntimbcra sung :
Or what she dictates writes : and, oft an eye
Shot round, rejoices in the vigorous year.
When Autumns yellow lustre gilds tlie world.
And tempts the sickled swain into the field,
Seiz'd by the general joy, his 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
572
THE YEAR BOOK- SEPTEMBER 28.
the fitful sighing of the breeze, in the
mournful cafl 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 external
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 : —
Farewell, farewell ! to others give
The light thou tak'st from me :
Farewell, farewell ! bid others live
To joy, or misery.
Say, breathes there on*^ who at this hour
Beholds thy glories shine.
And owns thy strangely-thrilling power.
With feelings such as mine 1
For 1 have view'd thee as a friend,
And lov'd, at morn or eve.
Thy golden progress to attend,
Thy first, last look receive.
Thou witness of my lonely ilreams,
Inspirer of my shell,
Like Memnon's, answering to thy beam&.
Not yet — not yet farewell !
How 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 rest.
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 I pleas'd or sad t
I 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 melancholi/, an eraotioj
originating from some of the finest fecl-
• Mr. Chauacy Hare Towusuend.
ings which do honor to the human 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 man ; we turn disgusted from
its cares, its follies, and its crimes, to seek
in solitude and contemplation, in the
fields, and w&ods, 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 tlie dying aspect of this
monitory season, that the voice of our
Creator speaks in tones that cannot be
misunderstood. Tliey 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 tottoring step shall
assimilate our state to that of the faded
and the fallen leaf; when the pride and
vigor of this earthly frame shall wither
and be extinct, and the heart that throbbed
with joy or grief, with anger 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 bickr
erings, the envy and the hatred, of a self-
ish world, must sink appalled away
They are reflections 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 23.— Day breaks . .411
Sun rises ..66
— sets ... 5 54
Twilight ends . 7 49
Autumn crocus flowers.
* Dr Drake's Evenings in Autumn,
673
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 29.
Sfptrtiilif t 29.
Michaelmas Day.
For usages upon this festival, reference
may be made to the Evcry-Day Book,
where there is much upon the custom,
still general in England, of eating goose
at Michaelmas.
Goose.
In France the goose is in little repute
as a dish, and seldom appears upon tlie
tables of Parisian epicures. The flesh
they condemn as coarse and unwholesome;
and the apple-siuce, 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
truCQed, * pates defoiesgras,' Sive reckoned
a most delicate " article ; although they
have killed nearly as many gastronomers
as the small pox and scarlet fever have
destroyed children. The department 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 Picardy 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 I we are all turnspits in this
world ; and when we roast a friend let us
be aware that many stand ready to return
the compliment.*
Rue aux Ours is the name of a street in
Paris, formerly called Rue aux Dues, 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 V^ille 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 Tabilla Cibana, cited in Time's
Telescope, 1823.
galed themselves upon gresCf 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."*
Dr. 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 duko
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. Marga-
ret, Westminster, a canonry of Windsor,
the deanery of Westminster, and the see
of Rochester Tlie revolution stayed
his further promotion, and involved him
m unmerited disgrace. He, and other
distinguished persons were charged with
unjustly conspiring to restore James II.,
and seize queen Mary. The falsehood ot
this accusation was discovered, and they
were released. Sprat spent his remaining
life in privacy, except when he judged
the situation of affairs peculiarly de-
manded his zeal, and then it bla/.ed up.
It flamed fiercely during Sacheveiel'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.
574
THE YEAR BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 29.
Two Toms, and Nat,
lu council sat.
To rig out a thanksgiving.
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 Crew, bishop of Durham.*
h. m.
September 29. — Day breaks . .4 13
Sun rises ..68
— sets ... 5 52
Twilight ends . 7 47
Swallows migrate, but a few remain
till October.
Sbeptemttv 30.
Swearing-in the Sheriff of London
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 sheriffs
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 exchequer, which vulgar
error supposes to be a trial of 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 in 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 luei.
Noble.
Tlie owners of a forge in the parish ol
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, which are counted
over in form before the cursitor baron,
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 III., 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 the civic 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
Septembe: with the Corporation of Lon-
don.
^ Edinburgh.
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 aealers in toys, gloves, &c.,
had taken up their abode in the krames —
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 these, at the east
end, not more than seven feet long, and
three feet wide, was occupied by an old
Gents. Mag.
575
THE YEAR BOOK— aji*rii!iMUJi:K 30.
giOTer named K , who, with his corn
tpom, stood retailing his wares within its
narrow limits, for nearly half a century.
They had not a fire, even in winter —
there beinj; 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
kramet, and the general alterations of the
town which then took place, retired from
business with competent fortunes.
One of the largest of t; ese 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
century, 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 born 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 silver 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 reiun,
says that ihey were beginning only, at that
time, to keep a few trifling articles. Pre-
vious to 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 Coffee-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 ; whicii
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 which, he 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 ..416
Sun rises . . 6 10
— sets . . 5 50
Twilight ends . 7 44
Asters all in flower.
P. S.
A few days ago an accident threw lr>
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 volume, 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. IIONE.
• Chambers's Traditions of Edinburgh, ii. 205.
576
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER.
OCTOBER.
The hedger stopping gaps, amid the leaves,
Which time, o'er head, in every color weaves ;
The milkmaid passing with a timid look.
From stone^ to stone, across the brimming brook,
The cotter journeying, with his noisy swine.
Along the wood-side where the branches twine,
Shaking from mossy oaks the acorns brown,
Or from the hedges red haws dashing down.
Clare's ShephercCs Calendar,
Vol, IV.
2 P
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER.
Glare's Shephertft CuUndar, whence
the lines are taken on the preceding page,
affords a natural picture of the waning
year.
Nature now spreads around, in dreary hue,
A pall to tovcr all that summei knew ;
Yet, in the poet's solitary way.
Some pleasing objects for his 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 conccaVd ;
With groups of restless sheep who feed their
fill.
O'er clear'd field* rambling whercsoe'er 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 ;starlling on their view.
Skimming a moment o'er the russet T)lain,
Then hiding in the motley woods again ;
The plopping gWs sharp, momentary shock,
Which Echo bustles from her cave to mock ;
The bawling song of solitary boys.
Journeying in raptureo'er their dreaming joys.
Hunting the hedges in their reveries.
For wilding fruit that shines upon the trees j
The wild wood music from the lonely dell,
Where merry Gypseys o'er their raptures
dwell.
Haunting each common's wild and .onely
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 ;
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 coy 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 kindle Winter'* icy bosom warm ;
^nd, with its merry partner, nut-brown beer.
Makes up the peasant's Christmas-keeping
cheer.
Like to a painted map the landskapc lies ;
And wild above shine the cloud-thronged
skies.
That rha.se each other on with hurried pace,
Like living things, as if they ran a race.
The winds, that o'er each sudden tempest
brood.
Waken, like spirits, in a startled mood ;
Flirting the sear leaves on the bleaching lea.
That litter under every fading tree ;
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 ihe 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 brov^-
below ;
And whirr of starling crowds, that dim tht
light
With mimic darkness, in their numer*-
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 ;
Tlien 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 different 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 otliers perform partial migrations.
Among occasional visitors, which fre-
quently change their summer a^d winter
678
THE YEAR BOOK.- OCTOBER.
quarters, we have the wilo 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 geete, wild
ducks, and other winter fowls, or the
appearance of sea gulls in the inland
marshes.
The harsh screaming of aquatic fowls,
as they pass over us, may often be heard
at night, when they 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 unheard. Cranes,
on the contrary, are the most sonorous.
Dr. Forster saw a flight of them in No-
vember, 1799, at Hackney,in Middlesex;
they flew at an immense height. The
flight of cranes has been always notable ;
and Homer, in a beautiful passage, com-
pares it to the march of the Trojan pha-
lanx. In sumntpr tnev spread themselves
over the north i: Eurooe and Asia, as fa:*
as the arctic croic, and m winter they
are met with m the warmer regions of
India, Syria, Egypt, &c., and ?! the Cape
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 naked 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 swallow, with this
inscription, ** Prithee, swallow, whither
goest thou in winter?" The bird return-
ed with the answer subjoined, " To An-
thony of Athens, why doest thou inquire?"
The elevated and marshalled flight of
wild geese, like that of cranes, seems
dictated by geometrical instinct. Shaped
like a wedge, they cut the air with less
individual exertion ; and it is conjectured
that the change of its form from an in-
verted V, an A, and L, 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.*
• Dr. iJorsWr's Perennial 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, pallets, 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 ot
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 esteemed than in the spring
of the year. Oysters, 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 Director y.
Sow
Small salading ; lettuces; radish, &c.;
n the first week.
Mazagan beans; peas, the early frame;
at the end of the month.
Plant
Slips of many kinds of the sweet herbs;
early in the month.
Transplant
Endive and lettuce ; into warm borders.
Early York cabbage ; about the middle
or latter end.
A few fine roots of beet, carrot, and
parsnep, to rise from seed.
Big up
Carrots, parsneps, beet, Hamburgh
pii ley ; a few ro ts for early supply, or
to preserve in said. Potatoes, the winter
stock, for pitting, or storing in dry cellars
or sheds.
Earth up
Celery in the trenches, and endive.
Clear from weeds the beds of winter
spinach, lettuce, broccoli, cabbages, &c. ;
and dig lightly, and draw earth to the
stems of all the brassica tribe.
Hoe, rake, destroy weeds, and remove
litter of every kind.
57i)
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 1. 2.
Prepare arching with hoops, &c., over
those beds or patches of lender crops
winch are to be covered with mats or
tarpaulinsf for protection during frosty
and severe weather.
Decoy Day.
The first day of October is appointed
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 !
Sing wit 1 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 her silken dress.
And her blushing loveliness —
Suck her fragrant breath, and bring
Odours on thy flutt'ring wing.
Hither, hither, autumn gale !
Turn thy flight, and lightly sail.
I see yon sweet bird's quiv'nng 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 where you will.
Idle breeze ! — that plaintive sigh
Tells me thou art lingering nigh.
Where the fruit hangs golden now.
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 ! — 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 tk:v
The dim forgotten talcs 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
Wit^i scarlet poppies, drooj;ing 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 ! reluming ! 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
at "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 1.— Day breaks
. 4 18
Sun rises .
. 6 12
— sets . .
. 5 43
Twilight ends
. 7 42
Here-hunting begins.
i3ctof)tv 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 difTerent kingdoms into
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 V^ere, who was
killed in Brabant by the tusk of a wild
boar. The minion's body was brought
to England and viewed by tlie 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.
680
TRE YEAR BOOK. -OCTOBER 3.
whom the people styled " good queen
Anne." This lady commenced the custom
of riding on side saddles. Before her
time, women rode on horseback astride,
like men.
Kroissart 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
he exults in having lived with the great
and elegant, and partaken of their
dainties, and especially of the " spiced
wines," which were tlie 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 well
entertained. After a careful collection
of different MSS. Mr. Johnes 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,
kniglit, lord Berners, in the reign of
Henry VIII. printed by R. Pynson
1525, 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.
a^ctottt 3.
Early in October, 1818, a robin during
the mild weather of that season was seen
to hover and alight constantly near the Tra-
fa'gar, a new ship of 100 guns building
in the dock-yard at Chatham, to comme-
morate Lord Nelson's victory. Curiosity
was excited by this freouency 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,
ar.d on the morning of the 21st of Oc-
tober 1818, the anniversary of the victory,
she laid hjr first egg and subsequently
five others.
The Orphan Boy's Tale.
Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake.
And hear a helpless orphan's tale.
Ah ! sure my looks must pity wake,
Tis want that makes my check so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride,
And my brave father's hope and joy •
But 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 !
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 loud.
My mother, shuddering, clos*d her ears ;
" Rejoice ! rejoice I" still cried the crowd ,
My mother answered with het 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 V I cried.
As in her face I 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 knoll,
And I'm no more aparent's joy :
O lady, — I have learnt 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 bread ;
The sailor's orphan boy has pride.
Lady, you weep ! — ha ? — this to me 1
You'll give me clothing, food, employ
Look down, dear parents ! look and see
Your happy, happy orphan bay !
Mrs. Ojiie.
681
THE YEAR BOOK.-OCTOBER 4. 5, 6.
h. ni.
October 3.— Day breaks . . 4 22
Sun rises . . . 6 16
— sets ... 5 44
Twilight ends . 7 38
The second, or autumnal, flowering of
hawkweed.
1744, October 4, Harry Carey de-
stroyed himsalf 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 Westeinson Linnert, a German,
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 " Provoked 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 *' Aldeboroni-fusco-
phoni, " a great giant, mentioned in
bprigg's " Philosophical Essayes, with
orief idviso's," printed at London, in a
very small size, 1657, from a hint in
Ralph's " Touchstone." He wrote the
" Dragon of Wantley," and, as a com-
panion, the " Dragoness," both set to
music by Lampe. 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 quarto volume. Mr. Noble says,
" This man of song and whim is an in-
stance, among many others that I have
remarked, of those who seem to live
without care, and pretend to be occu-
pied only with exciting pleasantry, iiaving,
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 washighlyadmiredby the pub-
lic at large, the subscriptions to his works
evidently prove. He had wit, and wit
that vras felt; but nothing causes so much
hatred as ridicule. Tliose who were ex-
f)nsed to laughter by his means detested
lim ; and some who were capable re
torted : and he who most provokes can
least bear the retort. Envy, ridicule,
pecuniary embarrassments, but, above all,
an injury to his domestic felicity, the
worst to be borne of any, occasioned a
despondency that prompted him to ter-
minate his life, prematurely, by his own
hand. Let wit be chastened, and gaiety
moderated, or they will generally lead to
misery, disgrace, and ruin."
October 4. — Day breaks
Sun rises
— sets
'\vilight ends
iBctotet 5,
h. m
4 25
6 18
5 42
7 35
Seven Dials.
5th October, 1694, Evelyn says, in his
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 15,000/. upon it in
building, but did not, and Sir Walter got
lease back and built Clarges street.
October 5.
Day breaks .
Sun rises . .
— sets . .
Twilight ends
h. m.
. 4 27
. 6 20
. 5 40
. 7 33
a^ctottv 6.
An Autumnal Evening.
It is as combining the cecline of the
dai/ with that of the r/ear, the period both
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 ot these instances,
do we blend the sun-set of physical with
that of moral being, but i further source
582
THE YEAK BOOK.— OCTOBER 6
of similitude is unavoidably suggested in
the failure and decrepitude of the dying
»'ear, a p'.cture faithfully, and, in some
ooints 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 the 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 below.
And slowly circles through the waving air.
But, should a quicker breeze amid the boughs
Sob, o'er the sky the leafy deluge streams ;
Till choak'd, and matted with the dreary
shower.
The forest-walks, at every rising gale.
Roll wide the wither'd waste, and whistle
bleak.
These are occurrences which so strongly
appeal to our feelings, which so forcibly
remind us of the mutability of our spe-
cies, and bring before us, with such
impressive solemnity, the earth as opening
to receive us, that they have, from the
earliest period of society, and in every
stage of it, been considered as typical of
the brevity and destiny of man. Like
leaves on trees, — says the first and the
greatest of all uninspired writers, —
Like leaves on trees the race of man is found.
Now green in youth, now withering on the
ground ;
Another race tlie following spring supplies ;
They fall successive, and successive rise :
So generations in their course decay ;
So flourish these, when those are pass'd
away ;*
a simile which, as originating in the sym-
pathies of our common nature, has found
an echo in the poetry of the melancholy
Osbian. "The people are," exclaims the
Bard of Cona, " 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 Macphcrson's Ossian, Berrathon^ vol, L
The preceding are a portion of many
delightful thoughts and reflections in Dr.
Drake's " Evenings in Autumn "
Nature'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
Proifers a thousand charms for me.
The ruthless gale that Autumn brings.
The lispings of the summer breeze.
And winter's wildest murmurings.
Have each a sovereign power to please.
And minister 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 I find.
And quiet in the wailing wind.
Bible Lyric*.
Periwigs
[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 enumerates
his enormities, makes him say : —
" Curl'd periwigs upen my head I wore ,
And, being man, the shape of woman bore.*
And amongst the Annotations on his
" Pleasant Dialogues and Dramas, 1637,"
describing the disgusting excesses to
which the lapygse abandoned themselves,
he reniarks " they grew to such profuse
riot, intemperance, and wantonness, "
that, " forgetting their country modesty
and honesty, they painted their faces and
wore other folkes' haire."
J. B n.
Staffordshire Moorlands
h. m.
October 6.— Day breaks . . 4 29
Sun rises ... 6 22
— sets ... 5 38
Twilight ends . 7 31
Marlins emigrate : a few remain till th«
middle of the mouth.
583
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 6.
KINGSTHORPE. NORTHAMPTONSHIRE.
[For the Year Book.]
There is not a prettier village near
Northampton, 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
houses facing the race ground ; push open
the gate, 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 tlie left is
a prospect almost as lovely as an inland
ii/)d not mountainous country can pos-
sibly present. Crossing a stile or two
(which, by the way, are annoyingly nume-
rous hereabouts), 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 rs a cluster of pri-
mitive-looking cottages, built of stone and
thatched. Upon an attentive inspection
they appear to have been formed fronj
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 \ery ill assorted
with its antique and lowly neighbours.
It has an impertinent perkish look, which
disconcerts the eye. Pass it, and takin-j
584
THE YEAE BOOK.— OCTOBER 7. 8.
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 njy 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
Boughton (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
chaunting 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 the steps and stump of a cross. The
register begins in 1540." I have sought
for this relic in vain. It has yielded to
the great destroyer " Time," or perhaps
to the yet more destructive judgment 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 seem»
to have subsequently revived; for Edward
IV. granted an annuity of£40,"outof 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 bailiff 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
disuse 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. J.
i^CtOttV 7.
7th October, 1792, died at his domain
of 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 my
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 the fear of danger or death,
deter them from asserting the liberty of
their country, and endeavouring to trans-
mit to their posterity those sacred rights
to which themselves were born."*
Good Life, Lung Life.
It is not growing like a tree
In bulke, cloth make man better be ;
Or standing long an cake, three hundred
ycare.
To fall a logge, at last, dry, bald, and searo
A lillie of a day.
Is fairer farre, in May,
Although it fall, and die thi.t night;
It was the p.ant and flowie of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see
And in short mea&ures life may uerfect be.
Ben Johnson.
h, m.
October 7. Day breaks , . 4 31
Sun rises . . . 6 24
— sets . . . . 5 36
Twilight ends . . 7 29
Damsons and bolusses gathered
a^ctottv 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
* Gentleman's Magazine.
585
THE YEAR BOOK.- OCTOBER 8.
he went to reside with lus grandfather,
at Sleaford ; and received his classi-
cal educaiion at the grammar-school in
that town. In 1741 he removed to
Northampton, and commenced his aca-
demical studies under Dr. Doddridge.
AAer a residence of five years at the aca-
demy, he settled as a dissenting minister
at Boston, in Lincolnshire, in 1746, and in
iNovember 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 University of
Edinburgh, on the unsolicited recom-
mendation of Professor Robertson. lie
was elected F. A. S. March 19, 1778, and
F. R. S. June 17, 1779 ; and was, of the
council in both societies. Dr. Kippi*
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
witli 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
he 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 deser\ed 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 it« perspicuity, elegance,
and purity; and gives a peculiar lustre
to the rich stores of knowledge ho im
parted. *
Dorsetshire Customs, &c.
[For the Year Book.]
Harvest Home — Hat/ making — Main-
moniul Oracles — Midsummer Eve — Peace
in 1 8 1 4 — Country Fairs — Perambulations.
Harvest 7/o/rte, formerly celebrated with
great mirth, but now a declining usage,
was a feast given by the farmer at the
end of harvest, or when his hay and corn
were got in. *' O fortunutos nimium, sua
sibona n^rint, agricoluSy* says V irgil ;
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 Marcl),
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 eiten
from wooden trenchers, by the side o
• Gents. Magayine,
686
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 8.
wlucli were put little cups of horn fiUea
with beer or cider. When the cloth was
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 legs which
had long out-grown the largest lioles of
the village stocks, and with a voice
which, if he had not been speaking a
dialect of tlie English language, you
might have thought came from the deep-
seated lungs of a lion, he would propose
the health of the farmer in the following
lines : —
Here's a health unto our miaster
The founder of the feast.
And I hope to God wi' all my heart
His soul in heaven mid rest j
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
chords 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
lowings 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
tl>e 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. Tlie younger and
less experienced are set to rake the hay
up unto ridges, called in Dorset " wales,"
01 to put It up into cocks ; some of thai
numerous class of laborers who have
more strength than wit are sent to pitch
or unload ; the next "grade," as brother
Jonathan 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 coiners; 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 commonly 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 uprigh*
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 shapt and without
waste or want ! or, in the expression of
the hay-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 oi
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 anothei
Penelope, she is to regret the absence ol
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 wc
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 sor*
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 insleme, e dir che lor Incontr*^'
587
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 8.
to sit together, and say whatever comes
into ihcir heads; when the pretty name
of Flora or Fanny was not a wlsit 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 wiih 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
"• Rich man, poor mau, farmer, ploughman,
thief ;"
fancying, very seriously, that the one
which came to be named at plucking the
last petal would be her husband. Another
Jpay of knowing the future husband (in-
ferior only to the dark words of that high
Jtriestess of the oracles of Hymen, the
lunning gypsey), is, to pluck an e-en
ish-leaf, and, putting it into the hand, to
say,
•' The even ash-leaf in my hand,
*• Tiie first I meet shall be my man."
Then, putting it into the glove, to say,
" The even ash-leaf in my glove,
•' The 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 she will.
Midsummer Eve, however, is the great
time with 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 I 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 rifjlit angles with e;ich other,
in the shape of a T, and say,
" Hoping this night ray true love to see,
" I place my nhoei in the form of a T."
they say she will be sure to see her hus-
band 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 Peacej 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 tlie 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 o*
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 wers 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
distorlmg them into something still more
unlike, and uglier than natural features
Besides these there was Running by young
588
THE YEAE BOOK.— OCTOBER 8
womeriy a sport in which the victress re-
ceived a white hoUand 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 the
defendant by the various counts in the
declaration.
T/ie 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 Ir. a barometer at the coming of
fine weatl er. The children lessen their
outlay foi 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 fa-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 T 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 had
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 ii
that our wants are only imaginary, and
that riches and poverty are only relative
terms ! this boy is prouQ to go to lair
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, my 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, tne 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
shows, I went up to listen to a few of his
mach-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 ha'e not bieen
589
THE YEAR BOOK.- OCTOBER 9.
taken away. It is a proceeding com-
monly regulated by the steward, who
takes with him a few men and several boys
who arc 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 tlial 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 offered money to
junjp over it, in whicli 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
descending, 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 were tiie boundary of the manor
he had perambulated, he would be sure
to say, in the manner of Sancho Panja,
" Ees, that 'tis, I'm sure o't, by the same
token that I were tossed into't_, and pad-
dled about there lik a water-rot, till I
wor hafe dead." If he should be asked
whether the aforesaid pleasant bank were
a boundary,— " O, ees it be," he would
say, " that's where we squat down, and
tucked in a skinvuU of vitlles and drink."
With regard to any boundary perambu-
lated after that, he would most likely
declare, '♦ I won't be sartin ; I got zo
muddled up top o' the banks, that don'
know where we ambulated arter that."
W. Barnes.
h. m.
October 8. Day breaks . . 4 33
Sun rises ... 6 26
— sets . . . 5 34
Twilight ends . . 7 27
African and French marigolds fade and
will be soon cut off by frosty nights.
9th of October, 1690, died at the a^e
of eighty-seven sir John Maynard, ar
eminent lawyer, who had been active ir;
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 serjeant to the
protector Oliver, as he was afterwards to
Richard Cromwell his successor. Charles
il. recalled him to the coif, knighted him,
and would have made him a judge, but
he refused the intended honor. At the
revolution he waited upon the prince of
Orange, who, observing his great age,
said, " You must have outlived all the
men of the law who have been your con-
temporaries :" Maynard replied, "Yes
sir; and, if your highness had not come
over, I should have 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 professional skill was very great.
He died at Gunnersbury, in the parish of
Ealing, and was buried in that church.
He is called in the register "the lord
Manard."*
At Hertford assizes, 4 Car. I., the fol-
lowing information was taken by Sir John
Maynard, from the deposition of the
minister of the parish where a murder
was committed : — " That the body being
taken out of the grave thirty days after
the party's death, and lying on the grass,
and the four defendants (suspected of
murdering her) being required, each of
them touched the dead body ; whereupon
the brow of the dead, which before was of
a livid and carrion color, besjan to have a
• Noble.
590
THE YEAE BOOK.-OCTOBER 10, 11.
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 lively 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
i^ttOttt 10.
October 10, 1723, died at his seat at
Colnegreen, ii98
THE YEA.R BOOK.— OCTOBER 16.
procurer of speech, otherwise you sha'l
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 shamefacedness, 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 ;
for 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 hapj)en to man.
Well, my littie 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 God,
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 Follils.
Leave me, O Love ! which reachest 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 Sidney.
599
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,
for I literally rose with the sun, and sat
for some time enjoying the delicious fresh-
ness of the air at the open window, and
listening to the varied 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,
aflbrded 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 of the old
ham opposite my window, than the mist
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, stretched away towards the river,
beyond which the opposite shore rose in
beautiful variety. Several vessels were
moving onwards in gloomy grandeur,
or reflecting the sun-light from their broad
sails as they veered about; and at no
great distance the neighbouring church of
Conhgham lifted its huge wooden spire
like a pyramid of fog above the thatched
roof of an out-house in the centre of
the picture.
600
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 16.
On a subsequent vidit to this building,
I particularly noticed its massy tower,
whicli bears evident traces of extreme
antiquity. The interior presents a very
neat appearance, though over the belfry
door my eye caught a cunning sculpture
with something of a Grimaldi 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, " (luontrattt formarius istius
ntilterij/' and Alicia Greyde, who died
the 17th May, 1454. Some sculptured
tiles on which I could trace no definite
figures, and an old stone 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: DE: SA : ALME: EIT:
MERCI.
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
sliorn/ — 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 Hol^anneS,
a rebus, very probably on the name of
some benefactor to the church.
These details have led me away from
my descant on the gentle scenery, which
I was contemplating as I sat recruiting
my vext 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 may be 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 : —
POVU I.AMOVR de JESV CHRIST
PUIEZ POVU SA {son ALME q'icI GIST
PATER NOSTER ET AVE
THOMAS DE CRAWEDENE TVT 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 ti, the
termination probably of some supplica-
tory inscription on behalf of the piou|
decorator of another window on the souti
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 elsewhere, but never beyond the
pale of happiness, which I hold to be only
another name for Fobbing Parsonage.
SCRAPS.
" Unconsidered trifles-
Merry and tragical, tedious and brief."
Shakspeare
[For the Year Book.]
Anciently at Potton, in Bedfordshire,
the wool 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 them. A personation
of Saint Blase, the reputed patron of the
woolcombers,was attended by various cha-
racters in gay attire, who performed a rural
601
THE YEAR BOOK.-OCTOBER IC.
musque; and there was a kind of morris
dance, with other ceremonies.
" O wassel days ! O customs meet and well."
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,
and the little " lambkin," profusely
decorated with flowers and ribbons, 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 " revel" as it was
termed ; but that their costumes were as di-
versified and sightly 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 pie." Who
can help regretting that the excellent
qualities of " black cherry pasty" should
remain " unsaid, unsung ?" They have
entirely escaped the notice of the *' pro-
cessed" writers " oti the culinary art,"
from Mrs. Glasse "of the old school,"
down to Mrs. Ilundell and Dr. Kitchener
** of the moderns "
Garlands. — At the villages m 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 luck 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
rose-trees planted and preserved there in
a flourishing state. The terms of this
eccentric benefaction are very properly
complied with. Several 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 churcli 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 "the woman that keeps the
key," an intelligent ancient dame, very
communicative as to particulars.]
Funning Notice. — ^The following an-
nouncement appears on an old barn-like-
building in the pleasant lane leading from
Hampstead church-yard loKilburn, Mid-
dlesex . —
" Horses taken into the straw-y^rd and
fed upon hay.'*
Lee, in Kent. — In the church-yard at
Lee, a pleasant village on the south side
of BlackheiJ^h, an old monumental stone
(probably displaced from the ancient
602
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 17, 18.
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, HERE's naturrs rarities —
(Grand-Parents ioy ; The ANGells charge
(to keepe)
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 yeares old (so young he was) and
yet
Pregnant in learning, meniory Retent,
So DOCiblc that few so EXceilent.
Should 1 say All (was truly good) in him
I should come shortc in hymning forth this
stem
Nor would this stone contcynt, tlierefore no
more
So greenc a rooto more ripened fruite nere
bore
Now if yould know who 'tis descrues this
praise
Ueade the next lines 4nd's name and vertues
Raise."
*' Here lyes Thomas Garnet, eldest sonne
of Kathirine, the wife of William Garnet,
'if 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 (* illegible') in her love to him
and for the imitation of his vertues in others
cavsed this inscription."
Buckeslone's Found. — 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 povndc.
6 Febrry : An. Dm. (^date of the year illegible.)
O GODD
IN. MERCYE. THER
SOVLES
PRAYE. TAKEIZTG. UEVENYS,
FOR THYE DEARE SONKe's
lESUS's SAKE.
How long this " relgfee" has been in
ts present situation, and from whence it
came, I know not.
IS. m- ^«
August 1R31,
i^ctotn 17.
Fox hunting begins to take place 19-
gularly on the 1 7lh 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 mine'
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.
Tlic dear must yield his dappled coat
My vig'rous 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?
Fireside Book
h. n
October 17.— Day breaks .
. 4 51
Sun rises . .
. 6 43
— sets . .
. 5 17
Twilight ends
. r 9
iBttOttV 18.
18 October 1564, captain, afterwardt
sir John Hawkins, the first Engiishmm
that gave countenance to the slave Irale,
sailed from Plymouth, his native place^
for Cape Verd, 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 (Hawkins) 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 makings a
• Butler's ClironoiOgical Exercise*.
603
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 19.
prosperous voyage. This," says Anderson,
' seems to have been the very first at-
fcmpt from England for any negro-trade."
Upon this adventure, Hill says, in his
Javal history, " Here began the horrid
tractice of forcing the Africans into sla-
rery : an injustic«i and barbarity which,
10 sure as there is vengeance in heaven
for the worst of crimes, will some time
be the dtstruction 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, whc, 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 culled," 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 row'd along.
The listening winds received this song.
'* What should we do but sing 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 us, in care.
On daily visits through the air.
** He hangs in shades the orange bright.
Like golden lamps in a green night.
And docs in the ponaegranate cl.jse
.ewcls more rich thnn Ormus shows.
• Hist, of Commerce, li. 117.
*' He makrs the figs our mouths to meet.
And throws the melons at our feet ;
With cedars chosen by his hanrl.
From Lebanon, He stores the land.
" He cast — of which we rather boast —
The Gospel's pearl, upon our coast.
And, in these rocks, for us did frame
A. temple, where to sound his name.
" Oh ! Ict-our voice his praise 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 ;
And all the way, to guide their chime,
With falling oars they kept the time.
It is due to Mr. Montgomery to add
that the preceding poem aptly occurred
to recollection by seeing them in his
" Christian Poet," a four shilling house-
hold book of beautiful verse.
October 18. — Day breaks
Sun rises
h. m.
. 4 53
. 6 45
— sets . . . 5 15
Twilight ends . 7 7
Rough agaric springs at roots of trees.
a^tXtSibtX 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.
Abotit 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 vain, forsook the walls ;
and the assailants became masters of the
town. The mayor sir John Marley, with
others, who had been most resolute in
604
THE YEAR BOOK-OCTOBER 20.
holding out, betook themselves to the
castle, and general Leven went to cnurch
jvith 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 surrender,
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 chif?f of the Scottish prisoners
to be taken to the top of the Tower,
below the lantern, and returned for
answer, that if the S'tructure 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 : "1645.
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 19. — Daybreaks . . 4 54
Sun rises ... 6 47
— s€ts . . . 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
i!^ttOf)tV 20.
20th October, 1093, Malcolm III. king
of Scotland was treacherously killed at
Alnwick castle in Northumberland. The
forces of William Ilufus king of England
had taken the castle from the Scots and
put all within it to tne 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
• SyVes'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 his 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, brough«t him
with great noise and clamor unto the
king's tent, who hearing the noise camj
forth of his pavilion to understand whal
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 tlie king occa-
sioned the Scots to raise the siege. They
buried him in the abbey of Tynemouth,
but afterwards disinterred the body, and
reburi«d it at Dumfernline, before the
altar of the Trinity. Edward his eldest
son also perished at Alnwick.
According to HoUingshed, the knight
by whose hand Malcolm fell obtained the
name of Vtrcy. " It is said that king
"William changed the name of this ad-
venturous knight and called him Ver% 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 Fercecs
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 therf»
is a MS. memoir of the Percy family
entitled " Ex Pvcgistro Monasterij de
Whitbye," which corroborates the note
upon HoUingshed. The MS. begins with
" William Lord Percye the first founder
605
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 20.
of Whitbye,'^ and states that he married
" Emme of the Porle ; 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 Emme 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 " had the second William
lord Percy who married " Aliza that lyeth
at Whitbye."*
BoLTOK 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 Romill^, heiress
of 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. Whitaker, 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 ihe tremendous fissure with
a rapidity proportioned to its confinement.
This place was then, as it is yet, called
the Strid, from a feat often exercised by
persons of more agility than prudence,
who stride 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
Romill^, and beheld his fate, returned to
tlie lady Aaliza, and, with despair in his
countenance, inquired, " What is good
for a bootless bene ? " To which the
motner, apprehending that some great
* Antiquarian Rupertory, iv. 4.
calamity had befallen her son, instantly
replied, " Endless sorrow."
Tiie 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 comforters. The views
of the parties were different ; they spoke,
no doubt, and she thought, of proximity
to the scene of her 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 Romillfe, the first found-
ress, and not Aaliza de Romille, 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 Aaliza, Romill^, is
of little consequence in a poetical point
of view, has furnished more than one of
our living bards with a theme for his
muse. 1 annex the lines of Mr. Rogers." —
The Boy of Egremond.
'* Say, what remains when hope is fled 1"
She answep'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-fell ;
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 Egremond was seen.
Blithe was his song — a song of yore ;
But where the rock is rent in two,
And the river rushes through,
His voice was heard no mo'-e !
*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 he 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 j
The " Miserere !" duly sung j
606
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 21, 22.
A.nd holy men, in cowl and hood.
Are wandering up and down the wood.
But what avail they 1 Ruthless lord,
]'hou 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 j
Of those who would not be consoled
When red with blood the river roU'd.
October 20
— Day breaks .
Sun rises . .
— sets . .
Twilight ends
a^CtOttV 21.
h.
4
6
5
7
va.
56
49
11
4
21st October, 1784, died M Calmer,
one of the richest Jews in France. Al-
though he had never abjured the religion
of Moses, he neglected its rites, and his
daughter was married to a christian of
distinction. He purchased the duchy of
Chaulnes, by which he obtained the pre-
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 Wandering 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 in our churches ; and that, being
entertamed 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
alive 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
tae 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 wiien 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 iiim 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 Christy 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 heels, 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 !"
h. m.
October 21. — Day oreaics . .
4 57
Sun rises . . .
6 51
— sets . . .
5 9
Twilight ends .
7 3
Swan' "J egg pears gathered.
iBctotev 22,
Hypochondria.
Under this date, in Dr. Forster's Pe-
rennial Calendar, there is a continuation
607
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 5J2.
of some previous remarks 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 take
place spontaneously and produce visions.
We quote 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 ; in
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
*Iidas turned all things to gold that yet
iaffled his hopes and defrauded his
luman desires, so, whatsoever things ca-
pable of being visually represented I did
Dut think of in the darkness, immediately
shaped tliemselves 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 irto in^
iuflerable splendor that fretted my heart.
For this, and all other changes in my
dreams, were accompanied by deep-seated
anxiety and gloomy melancholy, such as
are wholly incommunicable by words. 1
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 1 could ever re-ascend. Nor did I,
by waking, feel that I had re-ascended.
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. Tlie 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
swelled, 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 millenium passed in thd
time, or, however, of a duration far bas
yond the limits of any human experience.
The minutest incidents of childhood, or
forgotten scenes of later years, were often
revived ; I could not be said to recollect
them, for if I had been told of them when
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 wa
once told by a near relation of mine, tlia
having in her childhood fallen into a
river, and being on the very verge Oi
death but for the critical assistance which
reached her, she saw in a moment her
whole life, in its minutest 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 . .
Twilight ends
Ii. m.
4 59
6 53
5 7
7 1
608
THE YEAR BOOK-OCTOBKR
Vol. IV.
2 R
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 22.
The preceding engravinc: is from an
etching 10 inches high, and 17 inches
wide, " D. Allan inr. et aq. for. fecit,
1787," 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, underthe hope of further
communications.
[To Mr. Hone.]
April 1831.
Sir, — 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. It 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-
eight Presbyteries.
89 Elders representing Presbyteries.
67 Elders representing Royal Burghs.
5 Ministers, or Elders, representing
Universities.
The business of the assembly is to
decide all appeals and references in cases
from inferior courts, as well as to enact gen-
eral laws in regard to the internal adminis-
tration of the church, with the consent of
a majority of presbyteries.
The general assembly meets annually on
the 25th of May, at Edinburgh. It is
honored with the presence of a repre-
sentative of the sovereign in the person of a
Scottish peer, with the title of His Grace
Lord High Commissioner, but he has no
vote nor takes any part in the proceedings.
On the evening previous to the day of
meeting he holds a levee, when the ma-
gistrates are introduced ; the Lord Provost
makes a complimentary address, and pre-
sents the silver keys of the city to him.
The present Lord High Commissioner is
James 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 member? 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
from 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 adopteu
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 IK 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 month 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.
Somerville, 26th May, 1830.
Dear KiV/c,— Agreeably to my pro-
mise, made to give you an account of my
610
THE YEAE BOOK.— OCTOBER 22.
late visit, last Whitsona^y, to my friend
Mr. Hendry Constable, Baillie of Lands-
borough, of which, by the bye, 1 have had
the honour of being made a Burgess and
Guildhwiher, 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'll 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 Find/ater hours to
rise at), and although it threatened to \e
Rennie, it turned out only Sommers
showers. After passing Alton, the name
of which I have forgot, and where I was
sadly Bisset with BiggarSy one of whom,
of the clan Gregor, with a Brown hat,
and very few Clason, holding out a Prim-
rose in his hand, said (to Currie favor
with me)" Smellie tat ;" and throughEas^on,
where a Frenchman, inquiring the time of
day, asked me if it was yet Denoon ? and
Middleton 1 At this latter place I was
amused in hearing a recruiting Serjeant
haranging a crowd, and bawling out L/s-
ton my lads ! TAston ! Not bemg very
well acquainted with the remainder of the
foad, 1 inquired of a Shepherd, and no
Manson could be more civil ; he directed
me to go by the Burnside, turn round by
the end of a Milne, {Adam Sivewright is
the Miller), then to cross the Ferrie,
which would lead me to a Muir, 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 Citrdie
iMTiih, 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 1
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 Hood, whicli a Black
Smith with a White 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 hostelrie, 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 Hoses (with a Goldle
chiruping in it,) made by a Gardiner, and
% sweet fragrance olFlowerdew ; a bowling
Green in front, and in view of Loc/iore^
and a Swan on it. I resolved to dine
there, and, upon knocking at the door,
some one called out, " Cuniming ;" 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 nicked to the
Bayne — and perhaps a Garvte Heron, but
of Salmon he had not so much as a PhiUj
having mislaid the Lister. 1 accordingly
ordered the whole, being determined tc
Mc Lean work ; and, while thus occupied,
the landlord, a Jollie enough personage,
with a bald Fate, who professed the Cot-
tart, or breaking of horses, and merry
as a Greig, but witha) Wyllie as Toa
Lawrie told me he was a TTe/cAman, and
loved the Scott. He had bean a great
traveller, having been at Leith, Forfar,
Dingwall, Stirling Hamilton, I^ockerby,
Irvine, Traquhair, Dunbar, and even as
far as Lunanf 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 Temperance Society began, (Mem' je>
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 Gleig, he was
intimate with, and also with Mr. Herd-
man, the minister, who is very Meek,
Gentle, and Sage, and as worthy an Adam-
son as ever mounted a pulpit, and though
an Auld man is married to a Young wife,
and still Putters-on in his accustomed old
Gil
THE YEA.R BOOK.— OCTOBER 23.
^ay. lie has an excellent band of Singers
in his Kirk, which is led by Davie Sangstery
the precentor, who has a pair of Crutch
thanks, but is a first rate Singer. One
peculiarity is, that all Cosins go there in
Capples, carrying a pair of Tttwse in their
hands ; and the females with a Paton on
one Foote only, and that they call the
Proudfoot ; this was a Les-lie than I ex-
pected ! Eadie, lately the people were not
a Little alarmed by a Dunn Buliock
boiling into the church, just as he had
given out for his text, " Asher shall not
save us;" however, Peter Meiklejohn t'">^
Hunter (although in general no Tumhull)
and Paul Littlejohn the Forrester, soon
turned him out — the latter having a cudge!,
part of the Firewood, g ven him by a
Wright, in his hand.
By this time it was beg nning to Mack-
night, although the Moon * *
Origin of Tejts.
The taking of a text seet is 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 becama
necessary to explain, as well as to read,
the Scriptures to them ; a practice adopted
by Ezra, and 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-
formed ; and, in the synagogue at Naza-
reth, read a passage from the prophet
Isaiah ; then closing the book, relumed 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.
mtottx 23.
23rd of October, 170V, Sir Cloudesly
Shovel perished at *he 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 Cloudeslif Shovel's tomb
in Westminster Abbeij.
As Lambeth prayed, so was the dire event.
Else we had wanted here a monument:
That to our fleet kind Heaven would be a rock ;
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 Mediten.
ranean. " Indeed," says Mr.Noble,*' whei/
the dangers of Scilly are recollected,
612
THE YEAR BOOK. -OCTOBER 23.
idded 'o 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 ]\Ir. Joseph Parkes of
Birmingham, on the " Equity Jurisdiction
of the United States, 1830," it appears
that the American chancellor has tiie
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 fiict, 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, and 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, tlie
vessel and passengers might have been
saved.
The Treasures of the Deep.
What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and
cells.
Thou hollov 80V.nding and mysterious main ?
Pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-colour'd
shells.
Bright things which gleam unreck'd of, and in
vain.
Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea !
Wc ask not such from thee
Yet more, the depths have more !— WLat
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 !
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,
Sca-wced o'ergrown the halls of revelry.
Dash o'er them. Ocean ! in thy scornful play,
Man yields them to decay !
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-thunders 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 precious things from
thee.
Restore the dead, thou sea !
Mrs. Hetnans.
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 VH. expended £114,000 in
building one ship, called the Great
Henry. She was properly speaking the
first ship in the royal navy. Before this
613
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 2:j
period, when ihe prince wanted a fleet,
ne had no other expedient than hiring or
pressing siiips from the merchants.
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, she 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
figlrt. At length the English boarded the
C'arrick, 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 Mary's reign,
the " goodliest ship in England, called the
Great Harry, being of the burthen of 1000
'ons, was burnt at Woolwich by negli-
jjence 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.*
* Ilume. Fuller. Bakor. 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 exceed et\
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, undei
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. 121,
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,
Redcliff), 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 Mi.
Corry and finished by the Rev. John
* Baker.
614
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 23.
Evansv published in 1816, says, (ii. 384,
385), " To tlie name of Canynge has
teen attached a peculiar splendor. The
piety which in early life induced him to
complete Redcliff" church, which his
jrandfather 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 man 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, lie 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 Henry 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 VIU., 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
Cornwall.
[For the Year Book.]
By Gilbert's History of Cornwall it
appears that John of Eltham, youngest
son to Edward H., was the last eMrl of
Cornwall ; and in the reign of Edward
HL, 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 IIL
put 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 Paris. 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 5Q
G15
THE YEAH BOOK.— OCTOBER 2t.
iS>ctot)tv 24.
2-Uh of October, 1536, died in childbed
of Edward V'L, 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
est 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
occ«.iion 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
'.o 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 ! jKliewe comfort !
For wrongfully ye judge of me.
Unto my fame a mortall wouiide ;
Say what ye lyst it will not be.
Ye seek for that can not be found.
death ! rocke me on slepe.
Bring me on quiet reste ;
Let passe my very guiltless goste
Out of my careful brest :
ToUe on the passinge bell,
Ringe out the doleful knell.
Let the sounde my delhe tell,
For I must dye.
There is no remedy.
For now I dye.
My paynes who can express
Alas ! they arc so stronge.
My dolor will not suffer strength
My life for to prolonge :
Toll on the passinge bell, &c.
Alone, in prison stronge,
1 wayle my destenye ;
Wo worth this cruel hap that I
Should taste this miserye.
Toll on the passinge bell, &c.
Farewell my pleasure* past,
Welcum my present payne ;
1 fele my torments so iucrese.
That lyfe cannot remayne
Ceate now the passinge bel),
Rong is my doleful knell
For the sound my deth doth tell
Death 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 iha
truth ; so, if you yield not, she does,
rather than contend, leaving you tbe
shame of a victory, when, with more ho-
nor, you might have yielded, and been
overcome: nor does she rashly take up
argument, and abruptly lay it down 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 ir
straining for an hour's mirth, than they
can recover in a month again ; which
renders them so unequal company, whilst
fhe is always equal, and the same. True
joy being a serious, constant thmg, as far
different from light and giggling mirth
as elemental fire from squibs and crackers :
whence she, Prometheus like, inspires ail
who converse with her with noble flame
616
THE YEAB BOOK.— OCTOBER 2t.
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.*
i
Wedded Love.
How near am I to happiness
That earth exceeds not ! not another like it :
The treasures of the deep are not so precious,
As are the concealed comforts of a man
Lock'd up in woman's love. I 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,
4.nd full as long.
Middletons Women beware 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 riivinest love.
Unchanged by time, immortal, maugre death.
But. oil I *tis grown a figment; love, a jest :
A ^umic 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.
Marston's What you Will, 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 court, with a salary of
£1200 per annum.
• Enigmatical Character«, 1658.
lioi/td Hawking in France,
Tfie • iiaiid I alconer of France had the
supei iiileudeno.' of all the king's falconers,
and .vusa swot a 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 reign 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 liad the
same number of officers, and like salaries
and appointments.
When the captain of these flights of
hawks 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 heronf
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-
617
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24.
bieccs were let off. When a bird rose, a
hawk, called in French haussepicd, 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-pi^d, 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 {lie 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 commonly 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, " a la volte," that
is, •' to the vault.'
3. There were two flights of ha„ .0 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 cried 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 wliich
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 lot 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 lime 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, stou, stou," like the
Flemings, and for fear any should go too
nigh the water they cried " hors I'eau,"
that is, " keep oflf 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 le»
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, hoiiya."
6. A flight for the hare liad a captain
and a lieulenant-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'? cabi-
net, with officers 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 hawki
were mewing or casting their feathers; they
were used likewise for the quail, the black-
bird, the sky-lark, and other smai. birds
as likewise to fly at the pigeon brow
strung.
The flight with the meilius 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.
618
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24.
thai 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 difference 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
afforded 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 scuflBe," says
our author, ** lasts very often a great while,
and gives the most pleasure."*
Thomas Nash, in his " Quaternio,
1 633," 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 muliitude of foul-
mouthed ravenous crows and kites, which
pursued her with more hideous cries and
clamours, tlian did Coll the dog, and
* Present state of France. By R. Wooley 1687
Malkin the maid, the fox m the apologue*
" When the geese for fear flew over the trees,
And out of their hives came the swarm oi
^^^*> 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 off 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 secand 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 then 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 Comedv 16.5'i "
613
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 24.
-" In the afternoon.
For wo will have variety of delights.
We'll to the field again, no game shall rise
But we'll be ready for't ;
for the pyo or jay, a spar-
row hawk
Flies from the fist ; the crow so near pursued.
Shall be compcU'd to seek protection under
Our horses bellies j 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 mc 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 forced 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 vivucity 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 moi.
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 eitiier 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 of
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 saker at 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
liome. 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
sufficiently 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 wotmd
round the little finger; lastly, their legs
were adorned with bells, fastened with
620
THE YEAH BOOK— OCTOBER 24.
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, great 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'-bells.
Rate inwards. Subsidie. Impost.
8. 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
Ilaukes' hoods the gross,
cont. 12 dozen ... 13 4 68
Haukes'bells,French, ^^
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 " hawkesMioods,
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 cverloade hir, neither
that one be heavier than another, but both
of like weight : looke, also, that they be
well sounding and shrill, yet not boih o
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 witii
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 io 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-surgeon,
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 ani
pleasant story concerning hawking:^
" This pleasure, as it is a princt6
Fall of Pont Notre Dame.
25lh of October, 1499, about nine
o clock in the niorninsr, the bridge Notre
Dame, at Paris, fell down. Its fall was
attributed to the avarice of the pr^otdes
marchands, who received for each of the
houses an annnal 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
accident, 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
for uttering the prediction. The parlia-
ment viewed the affair differently. They
a^CtOttX 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 tlie 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 4
* History of Paris, iii. 141.
t History of Paris, iii. 153.
J Dr. Forsters' Perennial Calendar.
G28
'HE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 9"
Effects of Trades on Health and
Life.
Mr. Thackrah, in a very important
work,* states a variety of facts, which
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 clieerful 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 trades produce; for meat is
always in request, and they live comfortably
in limes, as well of general distress, as of
general prosperity. They are subject to
few ailments, 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 the 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 plethora and premature
dissolution. He adds, -
Coalmeters, &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 m uch positive and actual intemperance,
brings on irregularities of the digestive
system, structural changes, and death.
• It is entitled " The EflFects of the prin-
cipal Arts, Trades, and Professions, and of
Civic States and Habits of Living, on Health
and Longevity : with 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. 183L Longman and Co." 8vo.
p. 162. — The present extracts are dcrivea
from the Literary Gazette.
Cattle and horse dealers arc generally
healthy, except when their habits are in-
temperate.
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 goo'.l 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.
Star/makers have their health impairedi
but live to a good average.
Milliners, dress-makers, and straw bon-
net-makers, are unhealthy and short lived.
Spinners, 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, suffer from disease,
and are soonest cut off.
Shoemakers work in a bad posture, by
which digestion and circulation are so
much impaired, that the countenance
629
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 26.
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,
\m\ 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.
l\inters 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.
Clockmakers are generally healthy and
long-lived.
Watchmakers are the reverse.
House-servants in large smoky towns
are unhealthy.
Colliers and well-sinkers seldom reach
the age of fifty,
Ernploj/ments -producing Dust, Odor, or
Gaseous Kxholations.
Exhalations from animal substances are
not injurious ; nor are the vapours of w ine
or spirits. [?]
Tobacco manufacturers do not appeal
to suffer from the floating panicles in
their atmosphere.
Snuff-niaking is more pernicious.
Men in oil-mills generally healthy.
hrnshmakers live to very great a^e.
Grooms and hostlers inspire ammnniacal
eas, and are robust, healthy, and long-
lived.
Glue and size-boiltrsy ex])oscd to the
most noxious stench, are fresh-looking
and robust.
Tallow-chandlers, also exposed to an of-
fensive animal odor, attain consideral)lc
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, and
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 Arkendale (in
the heart of the mining district) not less
than thirty widows under thirty years of
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.
Machiue-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 i/elloiv 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.
Tinplute-u:orkers are subjected to fumes
from muriate of ammonia, and sulphure-
ous exhalations from the coke which they
burn, which appear to be annoying rathei
633
THE YEAE BOOK.-OCTOBER 27.
tlian 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.
Plwnbers, 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 atfected 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.
Dijers 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
liurt or wounded, 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.
G lass-bloioers 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 physick, his own health?
A man, whose sober soul can tell
llow to wear her garments well ?
Her garments that upon her sit.
As garments should do, close and fit ?
A well cloth'd soul that's not opprest,
Nqr 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
J)*er beauty's face, seeming to hide,
tlore sweetly shows the blushing bride ?
i soul whose intellectual beams
Vo mists do mask, no lazy steams ?
i happy soul, that all the way
To heaven hath a summer's day ?
VVouldRt see a man, whose well-warm'd blood
Bathes him in a genuine flood ?
A man whose tuned humours be
A set of rarest harmony ?
Wouldst see blith looks, fresh cheeks, beguil*
Age, wouldst see December sn.ile ?
Wouldst see a nest of roses grow
In a bed of reverend snow ]
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.
Richard Crashaw,
October 26.-
-Day breaks ,
Sun rises . ,
— sets . ,
Twilight ends
a^ttOttt 27,
27th of October, 1708, died in hei
fifty-eighlh year, lady Mary Howard,
eldest daughter of Charles Howard, ear!
of Carlisle, the amiable widow of the
profligate Sir John Fenwick, bart., of
Wallington, in Northumberland, who was
executed for high treason. Siie endea-
voured with 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,
mto 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 Chancey
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
Smi rises . .
. 7 2
— sets . .
. 4 58
Twilight ends
. 6 52
• Noble.
631
THE YEAR BOOK.— OCTOBER 27.
s
OTHAM CHURCH, KENT.
[For the Year Book.]
" Tell me what wants me here, to worke
delyte,
The Fimple ayre, 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."
Spenser
This question I proposed to myself as
I strolled leisurely onwards one summer'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 ot
some weary current, and floating rapidly
apart through the calm hyaline above,
while tne 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 following
lines : —
The air is brisk, and the greon lowland rings
With tinkling waterfalls and bubbling springs.
The clouds glance fleetly 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 tedious cry
Of some lone crow that wings it wearily.
And the pale weeds which chafe that tott'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 noon-tide
ray.
While in its sheen the glitt'ring flies proloTig
The mazy dance, and urge their drowsy ftmu.
632
THE YEAB BOOK.— OCTOBER 28.
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 scrambling black-thoin, or the sapling's
leaves.
Or dash of pebbles in that brooklet's tide.
As the wren nestles in its grassy side.
Oh ! could 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 reaching 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-
oriate tablet to the memory of Dr. Home,
ate bishop of Norwich, whose " Com-
tnentar/ ■»n the Psalms will continue to
oe 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 degrc.
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 parishc
for aye
He 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 hoo d
to be saved. (Query, spared !)
Christ is cure only Savior."
The rythm and metre of these verses are
only equalled by those of " Mrs. Harris's"
netition, 1699: —
* Wordsworth. — Shakspearc uses the
■\\ crd •* knoll " in a similar Sense in one of his
f weetest passages.
633
** I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's
chamber because I 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 :
i^otair.ies Ci&risti care tiignare pro
nobis orare.
There was formerly a religious house
at Otham, foimded by Ralpli de Dene,
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 : —
Itobert Ire Ctoriifjatn toit^ tis fauc^ion ,
'<©atx to crafec mang a croton,
*' But," says Weever, *^he was so busy
in cracking the Saracins crownes that he
tooke the lesse heede (f think) of his
owne, for then and there he was slaine."
urselves with deep humility before the
ihrone of that Almighty being who
wields, directs, and limits the career of
an element which, if let loose on this
drm globe, would winnow it to dust.
When we behold the birds that wing
meir way through this immeasurable void,
through what vast tracts and undiscovered
paths they sei-k their distant food ; with
**hat love and gratitude should we not
reflect, that if he in mercy has become
their pilot and their guide, how much
n ore will he prove to us a sure and never
tailing protector.
And when we turn our eyes from earth,
its falling leaves and fading aspect, its
j^athering gloom and treacherous meteors,
to that great and glorious vault where
hum the steady lamps of heaven, or
where, shooting into interminable space,
tiow streams of inextinguishable lustre,
vve are almost instinctively reminded, that
here our days are numbered, that on this
low planet brief is the time the oldest
oeing lives, and that, passing from this
rj-ansitory state, we are destined to pur-
sue oiu" course in regions of ever-during
Lght, in worlds of never-changing beauty.
It is owing to these, and similar re-
flt«ctions, which it has been the business
uf tliis 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 not, 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
these, to hopes 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 faith 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. Oh, my friend,
That thy faith 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 ! all tilings then
Would minister to joy ; then should thine heart
Be healed and harmoniied, and thou should'st feel
Grtd, always, every where, and all in all. SotUhfy,
613
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 1.
Alimf-ntahy Calendar.
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 difference 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
request, not only as being of itself an
excellent plain dish either roast or boiled,
but as atibrding the chief ingredient in
the composition of sausages, &c. When
boiled its usual escort is peas-pudding.
Ilarc-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,
beef-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 cuhnary skill devise, are produced in
a style worthy the great occasion.
Vegetable 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 up
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.
Take uj/
Beet-roots, carrots, parsneps, and som€
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 thp
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.
Nob^mJi^r 1.
All Saints, or All Hallows.
Mr. Britton observes, in his " Cathe-
dral Antiquities," that many popish super-
stitions are visible throughout all the
principality of Wales. In tlie 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 wai
wounded. This mussulman became
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 L, 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 ; bv others, attendants in
644
TITE YEAR BOOK.-jSOVEMBER 1.
the privy cliainber. They certainly were
r.dmitted into great familiarity, and their
.iifluence 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 sums of money
y)r recommending to places." Maiiomet
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 ])rovided 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 occasio^ he exercised
in their full degree. In nim the dis-
tressed never wanted a friend. Never did
ne 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 '*is no easy thing
To tlraw 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.
John Fransham, a learned and eccentric
schoolmaster at Norwich, was born in
that city in March 1730, and died there on
the 1st of February, 1810. His father was
sexton of St. George's parish; and there
he was educated as boys in his condition
usually are, wiJi 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
• >ioble.
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 church, in which design he was en-
couraged by pecuniary aid from a relation,
who promised to continue it while he re-
mained at college. Before Fransliam
could be entered, this relation died ; and,
his friends not being able to afford even
his ordinary maintenance, he was placed
with another relation, a cooper, at Wy-
mondham, to learn the art and mystery ot
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 these 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 per-
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 Fran-
sham's inclinations. He had early re-
solved to devote himself to philosophy
and the muses, and detested every species
of manual employment which 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 things — he possessed a fine philoso-
phical spirit— a soul well purified from
vulgar errors." The nature of their em-
ployment allowed them to converse to-
gether for several hours in the day.
6i5
Tin«: YEAR BOOK.—NOVEMBER 1.
Fransham placed hii loom opposite to
Wright's, and while at their occupation
Ihey discoursed without interruption to
iieir employment. Wrij;ht died; and
franshum was again unsettled. He lost
a friend of kindred spirit, who stimulated
ftis exertions, encouraged his progress,
and rewarded his labors: and, soon after
this bereavement, Fransham formed the
resolution of visiting the Highlands. He
nad 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 Nevtcastle
his means of proceeding failed, and there
he enlisted for a soldier into ihe 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 half-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 accusloraed 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 — lagoin
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-
pressed 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-
ticles.
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 tliree years this source of support failed
him, and he once more had recourse to
the occupation of writing for attorneys
and authors. In this latter capacity, he
was employed by the Rev. Samuel
Bourne, formerly minister of the Octagon
Chapel at Norwich. He was then tv\eii»v-
four years of age, and became a member of
a society established about that period in
Norwicli, among men of 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 matiiematical 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 hunii,
against the forge. 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 fur
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 shol, that he might save
them from sufterings he had often seen
inflicted. His constant and kind 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 (eet,
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 co\er his legs
and feet. The torture wliich he saw at
Clover's, by what he emphaticailv denr-
minated in his writings "the English, but
brutal and barbarous customs of horst-
docking and horse-nicking," filled hin)
witii astonishment and horror; and the
adoption or rejection of the practice, by
nuy individual, was to him a criterion oi
the character of the man ; insomuch, thii;
646
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 1.
being once asked, during a contest for
members of parliament, which of the can-
didates he would vote for if he had a
vote, he replied, " I would vote for him
wiio has humanity enough to drive long-
tailed horses."
From this time, about 1760 to 1771,
Fransliam 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 house, 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 lime 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 farthing's-worth of pota-
toes, and, having previously purchased a
farthing'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, he 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 to practise a
singular exerc.se, by throwing a stick
loaded with lead at one end, and pacing
the distance from the place of projection
to the place of fall, he ascertained, from
the increasing length of that distauce, 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 thelistening 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
with a guinea a-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 Johnny Macpherson.
After Fransham's return to Norwich,
about 1771 or 1772, he attended the
family of the Rev. 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 tho course of time Dr. Cooper obtained
647
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER
tliu living of great Yarmouth, and, Fran-
sham's pecuniary circumstances being
exceedingly low, he submitted to a friend
whetlier his attendance at Brooke might
not be deserving of something more than
the hospitable reception he had always
received; adding th;it, 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 fur him as he miuht 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 was 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 more 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 lie
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 apolojay 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. At 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 the
universities.
Fransham now opened a kind of school,
from six o'clock till eight in the morning,
during summer, and during the same
houhs 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 numbe:
far exceeding his expectations, and greatly
more than he wished for. He conceived i*
impossiblethat any teacher could do just ice
to more than six or eight pupils at a time,
and often expressed astonishment at pa-
rents who, 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 commenced
by charging one shilling per week, which
sum he stipulated should be paid every
Friday evening ; and, if a pupil omitted tc
bring it duly, he sent the boy to procure it,
previously to the lesson of the evening.
"This weekly arrangement was soon at-
tended with inconvenience and loss. Some
of the pupils, with a higlier 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 paymentofhalf-a-guinea; which,
by theaclviceofM^-. 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 editiotis ; not that he loved antiquity
for antiquity's sake, and venerated every
thing ancient because it was ancient ; but he
648
THE YEAE BOOK.— N0VE3^:BER 1.
'
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 be
went to reside wilh Mr. llobinson, 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
manuscripts, 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 bis instrument. To the hautboy
succeeded the bilbo-catch, or bilver-ketch.
^n whatever he undertook 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-catch, and
filled up the vacant minutes in trials to lodge
the ball on the small end two hundred and
one times. He could not attain tliat
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
naan, during his illness, did not reside
with his uncle, but wilh his father. One
morning Mr. Robinson went to enquirf
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
tiie 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 shcrt
green jacket, with large horn buttons,
occasioned roguish school-boys to speak
of him as " horn-buttoned Jack." In hot
weather ho 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 Fransham, " but thou lookest very
hot and uncomfortable, and verily thou
wilt continue to look so ; for thou hast not
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 coffj/br^, will continue to
carry my jacket on my arm, and my hat
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 copious
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
649
THE YEAR BOOK.- NOVEMBER 1.
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?
orders, 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 his friends wished 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
rip-je cie-ditor," 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 ! "
" 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
FVansham, " it is a clear gain of seventy-
five pounds. Here, look here," said he,
pointing to his library, " not one of these
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 ^ains of losses, and
pleasures of pains.
About this period Fransham bev,ame
acquainted with Mr. Cooper, a barrister
distinguished for great legal ability, biblio-
uraphical 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 ever 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 lam])-lighter ; and, ai his
hour of repeating the experiment 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 quilted 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 hr
tioO
THE YEAR BOOK.-NOVEMBER 1.
had accomplished a fina. purpose with
that toy ; it was to catch th'j ball so great
a number cf times as seems incredible.
" Every man," said I'ransham, " has some
great object which he wishes to accom-
plish, and why should not I have mine ?
I will choose such a one .is 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 from an occa-
sional infusion of the bitters of pain. In
?cnformity, therefore, with this opinion,
.le 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 felicity of curing this head-
ache by copious draughts of strong tea,
and be thus reminded of the inestimable
value of health.
On quittmgMr. Robinson, Vxcjout 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 Mrs. 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 purstiing 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 he 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 fare 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
iiis constant care, in his latter years, to
avoid damps and drafts. He often spoke
to Mrs. Jay with great admiration of
female beauty. Histemper 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
occurred to him that he m'.ght alleviate
651
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBEE 1.
ner sorrows, if he were to hire two rooms,
and take her for nis house-keeper. He
accordingly engaged a chamber and garret
Jn the yard adjoining the wool-hall, in the
parisli 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.
Transham's diet was chiefly bread and
butter, and lea ; when the butler 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, tiian to burn it. —
" What," said he, " offer that to a fellow-
creature wliich I cannot eat myself! No,
I should think myself a monster were 1
to be guilty of buch an insult. If, how-
ever, you know of any useful purpose to
which bad butter may be applied, 1 will
inform you the next lime I happen to have
any, and you shall have it, and be wel-
come."
Mrs. Smith continued with him till «.hc
found a situation which seemed more ad-
vantageous; and, as he had no further-
occasion for two rooms, he removed. t(
enjoy the felicity of a garret in Elm-hiL
lane. " A garret," he would say, " is tlu
quietest room in the house ; there are nc
rude noises over head ; all is calm ^r,C
serene ; nothing is to be heard, but the
delightful ' music of the rolling spheres.'"
About 1803 Fransham 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, and had the use 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 be
permitted to retire. Next to the horse,
his favorite animals were cats : he would
place them tipon his knees, and talk and
fondle with them as affectionately as a
mother with her infant. lie had a dislike
to very yoi.ng children; he considered
them as interrupters of conversation, dis-
turbers of quiet, and frequent, though
innocent, offenders against decency and
good manners.
Towanls the latter end of 1809, Fran-
sham was attacked with a cough, which
increased with the severity of winter. In
January, 1810, he was too enfeebled to
take exercise, and, finally, kept his bed.
On the 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 Iiis 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 Avas burial in the church-yard of
St. George's Colegate, Norwich, and the
following inscription is on a stone to his
memory :
« M. S.
Joannls Fransham, qui plurimis annis in
h^c urbe Graecas Latinasque Lilteras,
necnon Mathematicam, studio exploravit,
praeceptis illustravii."
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 stieet,
he wore his hat drawn over his eyes, and
constantly looked do\*iiwar(ls, 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 animated.
He was remarkable for industry, and
accustomed himself to rise at five o'clock
in the morning during summer, and at
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 hie ntraui
652
THE YEAR BOOK.-NOVEMBER 2.
he continued to give instructions to his
pupils.
As a mathematician, he was emment
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 amo/ig the productions of
the moderns.
Of Algebra, or the analytic art, he
entertained a veiy 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
difl'erent modes of approximation, he
regarded only as mechanical tricks, or
arts of legerdemain, for the purpose of
displaying skill in 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 formulae fi i
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.
b. m.
November 1.-
— Day breaks .
. 5 17
Sun rises . .
. 7 11
— sets . .
. 4 49
Twilight ends
6 43
All Souls.
On this day formerly, in Lancashire
and Herefordshire, it was usual for the
wealthy to dispense oaten cakes, called
soul-rnass-cakes, to the poor, who, upon
receiving them, repeated the followingr
couplet in acknowledgment —
God have poor soul,
Bones and all.
Barring Out.
Of the many s*range customs which
prevailed among our mediceval ancestors,
and which, of lais 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 practice 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 ok the
6i3
THE YEAK BOOK- NOVEMBER 3.
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 my 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 inforn:ed
by a young friend, who left Scotby school
I ut a few years ago, that he had been fre-
quently engaged in these affairs. He
staled that, when the master was barred
out, the written orders for the holidays,
&c., were put through the key-hole of the
school-door, with a request for the master
to sign them, which, after some hesitation,
and a few threats, he generally consented
to. On one occasion, however, he forced
his way through the window, 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 Houghton-le-
Bpring, Thornton, &2.
Dr. Johnson, in his life of Addison,
also mentions the custom in the following
passage:
" In 1683, when Addison had entered
his twelfth year, his father, now become
dean of Lichfield, committed him to the
(rare of Mr. Shaw, master of the grammar-
school in that city. While he was under
the tuition of Shaw, his enterprise and
courage have been recorded in leading and
conducting successfully a plan for barring
cut his master, a disorderly privilege
which in his time prevailed in the j^rin-
cipal seminaries of education, where the
boys, *?xulting in the approach of their
periodical liberty, and unwilling to wail
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 ot
this practice was, at Litchfield, planned
and conducted by the author of Cato.*
h. m.
November 2. — Daybreaks . . 5 19
Sun rises . . . 7 13
— sets . . , 4 47
Twilight ends . 6 41
Nobemtier 3.
St. Winifred's Day
The legend of St. Winifred, and her
martyrdom, may be consulted in the
Every-Day Book. The following parti-
culars relating to St. Winifred's Well are
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 Treflfyn-
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, with
the arms of England at the bottom.
Numbers of fine ribs secure the arc!.,
whose intersections are coupled with a
sculpture. Some are mere works of fancy,
grotesque figures of animals, but the rest
chiefly allude to the Stanley family.
This building, and the chapel over it, rose
from the piety 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 wolf's 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
Hopton, allusive to her name. This
proves that the building was erected
• Gentleman's Magaiine.
G54
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 3.
Defore 1495, in which year sir Wilham
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 VH., and part of that of Henry
Vni. The first was borne by Henry
VH., 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 sanitaj Wenefrede, V & M. In
another wall is an elegant niche, in which
stood a statue of the virgin Mary. It is
said that there was another statue of St.
Winifred, which is probable, as isabel,
countess of Warwick, left to St. Wini-
fred, in 1530, 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 o' 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 hogsheads in a minute. It
never freezes. In respect to its alleged
equality of water in droughts, or aftet
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 but 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
ofBethesda. The votive crutches, bar-
rows, hand-barrows, and other proofs of
cures, to this moment remain pendtni
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
chms for hours, sending up their prayers
or performing a number of evolutions
round the polygonal well, or threading
tiie arch between well and well a pre-
scribed number of times.
The bathing well is an oblong, thirty-
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 well, close to the
road, is a small spring, once famed for tlie
cure of weak eyes. The pitient made ar
C55
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 4.
offering to th« nymph of the spring, of a
rrooked pin, and sent up at the same
time a certain ejaculation by way of
dtarm; but the charm is forgotten and the
eificacy 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,
haring continued so long mumbling his
Pater Nosters and sancta Winifreda ora
pro me, that the cold struck into his body,
ind after his coming forth of that well he
never spoke 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
ihe 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
Nobeml^er 4.
November 4, 1 740, died William Hucks,
Esq., who had long sat in parliament,
for Abingdon and Wallingford. He was
an opulent brewer in London. Mr.
Noble believes he was the person taken
notice of when mounted on a beautiful
hunter, by Louis XV. The monarcli 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 quies-
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, —
Tl.e king of Great Britain was rcckon'd
before
The head of the church by all good Chris-
tian people.
Bat his brewi r has added still one title more
To the rest, and has made him the head of
the steeple.
ScomsH Plouching in Sussex.
A Scottish gentleman in the Lothians
sent one of Small's ploughs as a present
to an agricultural friend in Sussex ; ana
dispatched witii it a 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. — *' 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 I hae
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 o' day on our bare leas, to the
saft south wasters and loun enclosures
here ; but ye're folks, sur, are perfect
deevils, and keep tormenting me like a
bink o' harried wasps. In short, sur, I
am maist demented sick o' the place, and
T just, wi' your wul, wish to gae hame."
Here Sandy made his best bow. " Bu
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 1 doubt na I could gie as
gude as I got." — " Well (rejoined his
master) "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 few 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 haii' ;" 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 beatin^j 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 «
master, in calculating his annual profits,
soon found the advantage of the argu-
mentum ad pugilium, and tlie real value of
a Scots Penny.
G5G
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 4.
DISTAFF SPINNING,
There. are certain representations of the
pencil and graver, seriously intended for
pictorial 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 Booky and — b«hold it I Being far
from London, in a manufacturing district,
I have no power of substituting any thing
better.
There can be little doubt, 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 b>
his owner, who, from that specimen oi
his graphic aud literary talents, may be
easily imagined an able artist, and a kind
hearted and keen sportsman. The en
graving of " Don" was, and will be, his
• On Cul. 1250.
Vol. IV^.
657
2 U
THE YEAR BOOK.- NOVEMiBER 5.
hai performance. It was done in seden-
Ury recreation after a serious illness, and,
for more healthy and active amusement,
our friend resorted to his much-loved
field sport. 1 learn, during my absence
from London, that in reaching a fowling-
piece from his chaise it went off, shattered
nis right hand, and amputation was im-
mediately performed. To this gentleman
was committed the engraving 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 the printe*
under the exigency — hence the present
ciit 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 superflux of engravings, to make
up for the obvious deficiency in the pre-
sent month.
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 tiiread than the
spinning machines do. Our old woman's
mode is the primitive one, used for thou-
sands of years. It is the 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 Year Book, which contains much
concerning antiquities, there is not any
mention of one more useful or more
ancient than spinning with the distaff.
November 4. — Day breaks .
Sun rises . .
— sets . ,
Twilij^ht ends
h. m.
5 22
7 17
4 43
Mr. Guest's work on the Cotton-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
Gunpowder Plot.
The reader will find quite enough of
of this story, and its celebration, in the
Every-Day Book.
Landing 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
afte^rwards, the prince of Orange had
rea'uied Exeter. Dr. Burnet, mounting
the pulpit hi 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 tlie people might be in-
clined 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 be proposed that he should
re-embark for Holland. On the tenth day,
however, sir Edward Scraour and cthei
658
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER C.
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, lie 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 Ilarleian Miscellany, thaf,
being at Huntingdon assizes, in 1619, he
reproved the sheriff for having returned
on the jury persons who were not of
jsufficient respectability ; and that at the
next assizes the sheritf" returned the fol-
lowing singular panel, at which the judge
smiled, at the same time applauding his
ingenious industry : —
Maximilian, King of Tortand,
Henry, Vrince 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, Enquire of Easton,
George, Gentleman of Spaldock,
Robert, Yeoman of Barham,
Stephen, Pope of Weston,
Humphrey, Cardinal of Kimbolton,
William, Bishop of Bugden,
John, Archdeacon of Paxton,
John, Abbot of Stukely,
Richard, Eriar 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.
h.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;
* Evans's Juvenile Tourist.
And Westminster is overflown
With wit peculiarly its own ;
Chief justices with brethcn thive
Swagger in ermined majesty ;
Yet these, like other things, declare
What short-lived fools we mortals are j
For Hilary Term begins to wane
To Easler's transitory reign.
And Trinity's hot sunbeams now
Descend on Michaelmas'^ snow ;
Succeeding Terms their loss atone
But we, when once our days are fiown.
With Littleton and Blackstone lie
Like records in the 'i'rcasury.
And who can tell, if we shall stay
To earn the fees we touched to-day ?
For with the wealth we leave behind
The uninhcritable mind
Is what our heirs shall never find.
Country Life.
Isaac Walton describes a 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. Look 1 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-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 ; 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 I thought
as the poet has happily cxprest it,
I was for that time lifted above earth ;
And poisest 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 ; but she cas;
away all care, and sung like a nightingale
659
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 7.
her Toice 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
tung 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 tiiat 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, good woman ; I have
been a fishing, and am going to Bleak>h:)ll
to my bed, and, having caught more fish
than will sup myself and my 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-
libub 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
speak 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.
h. m.
November G. — Day breaks . . 5 25
Sun rises . . . 7 20
— sets ... 4 40
Twilight ends . 6 35
NoDemDer 7.
7ih November, 1677, Anthony W^ood
enters in his Diary — " About one 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 for it at Tyburn."
Ascot, Winvfield, and East
IIampstead.
[For the Year Book.]
From Ascot Heath towards Reading,
tlte 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 hostelrio
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 stout-hearted
grazier, travelling from London to Head-
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 maiket
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 ])re-
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
nmst 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,
6G0
THE YEAR BOOK.-NOVEMBEE 8.
it descended throi gli 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
farmer; 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
tlie " Hind's Head " was shut up.
In the adjoining parish of Winkfield
there was formerly a strong castle, and it
is said tiiat tiuongh 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 liave been so
wicktd 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
seen — 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
.<"iint, 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 barns,
placed the two smaller parallel with the
largest, and W' inkfield church remains to
this day the resemblance of three barns
stuck together.
At East Ilampstead, 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 dined, and
passed tlie remainder of the day con
vivially with their lord.
-^ 1831 T.
November 7.
-Day breaks .
Sun rises
— sets . .
Twiliorht ends
h. m.
5 26
7 22
4 38
e 34
Lady Jeffery Dunstan.
[For the Year Book.]
On Saturday, November 8th, 1818, the
remains of the " lady** of " the independ-
ent Mayor of Garrett," sir Jeffery Dun-
stan, were interred, agreeably to her own
request, in the grave ''»f her husbaud in
Whitechapel churchyard; 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, alihough her age was so far advanced,
her natural powers remained unimpaired
to »he last. In her husband's life-time,
and also when in a siate of widowhood,
she claimed the soi-disant title of, and was
duly recognised as, "Mayoress of Gar-
rett.'' She survived sir Jeffery twenty -
onn years
661
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 6.
Apropos. — A colored print, a " Portrai*
vf sir JelFery Dunstan, M. i\ for Garrett,"
with a legend beneath it.
•* When you've gol money, you're look'd
upon —
But when you've got none, you may go
along," —
was familiar to hie 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 Baldock, 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 r.ow entirely disused.
iS. il). iS.
Royal Arms, Lions akd Leopards.
[For the Year Book.]
Mr. Editor,
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-
betl 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 L, and Henry IL
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 his 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 Gullliams, Chamberland,
and others. And these arms, so composed,
were placed on his funeral monument.
when he was interred in the abbey of
Eontewrad 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 or
some late English writers, who will have
the three leopards not to be originally
from Normandy, but first assumed by
Henry IL or by Richard L, and that
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, but Lions passant
guardanty upon the account that the Leo-
pards of Normandy and Jquitain are
now thought derogatory lo the royalty of
England, as not being originally ensigns
of kingdoms. These opinions were
raised first, if I be not mistaken, upon
King James V^L'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-
l^-ecially 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 principal
herald, William Segar, garter king at
arms, v/as 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 1600 years after his incarna-
tion, 1604. Though he promises in his
662
THE YEAE BOOK.— NOVEMBER 8.
preface to give approved authors for what
he says, yet he names no author in all
that manuscript, and begins with 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
Scotland, 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 IL; then he
says, (his [Segar's] own words], — lie
being the son of Maud the Empress, and
of Geoflry Plantagenet Earl of Anjou,
took for arms, Gules, 3 Lions passant
guardant, Or, because in Henry I. the line-
naasculine 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 Aquitain, from the
arms of England as now blazoi. >d, lions
passant guardant, but in the terms of
iDlazon, 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 his head
is in profile, showing but the half of his
face, vvbioh all lions properly do, being
erected on their hinder feet, and theii
head in profile ; but, if erected and full-
faced, he is called a lion-leopardee, his
head being after 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 toHenry HI.
in England, in compliment, three live
leopards, 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 tlie 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 ImhoflT, 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 guardant 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 Use ol
Armories." p. 150, ct. scq.
663
THE YEAR BOOK.—NOVEMBER 8.
" Toute* be«tes qui sont en artnes )en
doivt bUsunner l^stal, a la fachon, except
Lions el leopars. Car les lyons tie leur
nature sont rompans, et leopars sont pas-
sans, et ce est le premiere difference entre
lyons et leopars. Et sil sont au contraire,
on (lit ung lyon leo[>ar(le, et ung leopart
lyonne. Lautre difference est car le lyon
en armes a tant seullement ung oeul, et
le leopar en lautre cost^ en a deux."
In the same MS. the arms of ilie dukes
of Acquitaine and Normandy are thus
blasoned.
Le due dacquilaine — de guilles, a ung
lupart d'or en face, arme et lampaisse
d'azur.
T^ due de Normendie, de Guelles a
deux luppars d'or en fache arme et lara-
passe d'azur.
Fecialis Pebitl's.
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 unto such as frequent
tho 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, tiiose 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
told, at this very day, I mean the vulgar
sort of tkem, have a strange opinion of
the devil's power and agency in stirring
up winds, and that is the reason they so
seldom whistle on ship-board, esteeming
tlmt 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
tvind." V
Sir Thomas Browne has the following
singular p s age : — "That a king-fisher,
hanged by the bill, showeth us what
quarter the wind is, by an occult and
secret propriety, converting the brea.st to
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. Children
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.
Old Nxcx.
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 Olaus Wor-
mius's Danish monuments. We bor-
rowed it from the title of an evil genius
among the ancient Danes. They say iie
has often appeared on the sea, and on
deep rivers, in the shape of a sea monster,
piesaj^ing immediate shipwreck and
drowning to seamen." Ktysler mentions
a Deity of the waters, woishipped by the
ancient Germans and Danes, under the
name of Nocca, or Nicken, styled in the
Edda INikur, 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 JNeckury who governed
the sea, assumed the form of various
animals, or of a horseman, or of a man
in a boat. He s pposes him the same
with Odin ; but more probably he was
the Northern Neptune, or some sea-god
of a noxious disposition. Arclideacon
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 . . o 27
Sun rises ... 7 24
— sets ... 4 36
Twilight ends . 6 33
664
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBEIl 5.
HAND WEEEL 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-mentionca fetwaie, wh(,se 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
cardmgs were drawn out at tlie first
wheel, in an angle of forty or fifty-five
degrees from the point of the spindle;
in spinning, the rovings weie drawn out
nearly in a right angle. The liand-wheel
was the first instrument used in spinning;
the first deviation from the sim[)le, ancient
mode of spinning by the dutaflT, towards
that system of manufacture which has
converted Lancasliire and Derbyshire, into
the great machinery districts for spinning
and weaving. It should be observed,
however, that the hand-wheel was first
used in the woollen manuficture.
Wbpn the comfort of the wear, and th«
6G5
THE YEAR BOOK.-NOVEMBER 8.
exports abroad, increased the demand for
collons, 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 could collect weft to
serve him for the remainder of the day ;
and, when he wirhed to weave a piece in
a shorter time than usual, a new ribbon,
or gown, was necessary to quicken liie
exertions of the spinner. It is evident
that an important crisis for the cotton
manufacture of l^ancashire was now ar-
rived. It must either receive an exim-
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 bnng
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, lor 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
.k, I 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 Monday Evening
will be given.
A Grand
Entertainmet 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 shepsard after witch a grand
terifac combat thei to be given a Kesita-
November 19.— Day breaks . 5 41
Sun rises . . 7 41
— sets . . 4 19
Twilight ends . 6 19
NoDemlJer 20.
St. Edmund, King and Martyr.
Particulars of the anniversary of this
saint are in the Every-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 the 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 of 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 whick
Sunday is derived, among the Latins die$
Solis,wdLS 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
Cometh our Monday, dies £««<£•, anciently
Afoomlay : this idol appears strangely
singular, being habited in a short coa*
G-n
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOYE^SfBETl 21.
like a man : hei holding a moon signifies
what slie is, but the reason of her shoit
coat and long-eaifd cap is lost in oblivion.
3. Tuiicoy the most ancient and pecu-
liar god of the Germans, represented in
his garment of a skin, according to their
ancient manner of clotliing ; next to tho
sun and moon, they paid their adoration
to this idol, and dedicated the next day
to him, from which our Tuesdai/\s derived,
anciently ^uisday, 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 amon^
the Saxons ; his image was prayed to for
victory over their enemies, which, if they
obtained, they usually sacrificed the pri-
soner.;
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
cfremony 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 sta'e
he was taken out to the place of suffering
Chinese Oath.
At the Thames public office, a few
years ago, two Chinese sailors were ex-
* Gents. Mag. Nov. 1748.
692
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOYEMBER 22, 23.
amined on a charge .^f assaulting another
Chinese sailor. The complainant was
examined according to the customs of his
country ; a Chmese 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. II. 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.
November 21. — Day breaks.
Sun rises
— sets . .
Twilight ends
h m.
r, 43
7 44
4 16
6 17
Kol3^mlirr 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 numlierless ships and
sailors, with an immense amount of pro-
perly.
Night.
When I survey the bright
Celestial sphere :
So rich with jewels hung, that night
Doth like an Ethiop bride appeal ;
My soul her wing doth spread.
And heaven-ward flies.
The Almighty's mysteries to rea'J
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 naire..
No unregarded star
Contracts its light
Into so small a character.
Removed far from our humac eigLt •
But if we stedfast look
We shall discern
In it, as in some holy book.
How man may heavenly knowledge i?aru.
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 sway.
Some nation yet shut in
With hills of ice
May be let out to scourge his sin.
Till they shall equal hi.ii in vice.
And then they likewise shall
Their ruin have ;
For as yourselves your empires fall.
And every kingdom hath a i^ravc
Thus those celestial fires,
Though seeming mu\.e.
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.
Hah'tngton,
h. m.
i\ove?nber 22.— Day breaks . 5 44
Sun rises . . 7 45
— sets . . 4 15
Twilight ends . 6 16
Bottmtev 23.
Testival of St. Clement.
Hatters have a tradition that while St.
Clement was fleeing from his persecut rs
his feet became blistered, and to aflbrd
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 r,'ac:*'ant^ ha says, that the nrince
G93
THE YEAH BOOK.— NOVEMBER 23.
astonished the >\hole city by appearing in
a hat lined wit)) red silk, and surmounted
by a plume of feathers; from this period
their geueral 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 tl (
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 of 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 standing among
the ecclesiastics of Brittany by two hun-
dred years, and especially among the
canons ; but these were no otiier tlian a
kind of cap, from which arose the square
caps worn in colleges and public schools.
Labinian observes, tiiat a bishop of Dol
in the 12th century, 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 felt 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 Ileports, if
rightly understood, are, in fact, mere sup-
plements to Joe Miller. I do not care
what they are, ancient or modern, Coke
or V'esey, Law or equity, you may extract
The Hat-makcr'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,*' Sul. 424, to
say, " Thou art a witch," or that a ]jerson
*' bewitched my husband to death," Cro.
Eliz. 312, is clearly actionable. Quaere,
Whether it he 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,
^"d she never came up again ;" or " Mr.
Smith cut OiT 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 !"
The Solicitor-General (Sir VVilliam 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 m'v^ht pull
them dowuy 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 withio
the statutes of mortmain.
694
THE YEAE BOOK.— NOVEMBER 23
In the case of Isaac v. Gompertz, cited
7 Ves. 61, Lord Thurlow declared an
annuity given for the support and main-
tenance of the Jewish 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
Cull to the Unconvertedy 7 Vess. 52.
Swinburne, part 4. sect. 6, art. 2, men-
tions a beqviest of a legacy to a person, on
condition of his drinking up all the 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
hi? 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 upon
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 !" 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 !" or, in case he salutes you
thus, unless you answer, " In eternity,
Amen !"
Characters of Four Nations —
Germany, England, France, and
Spain.
In Rdigion,
The German is sceptical; the English-
man devout ; the Frenchman zealous ;
the Italian ceremonious; the Spaniard a
bigot.
7n Keeping his Word,
The German is faithful ; the Englishmaii
safe; the Frenchman giddy; the Italian
shuffling ; the Spaniard a cheat.
In giv'uig 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 Dress,
The German is shabby ; the Englishman
costly ; the Frenchman fickle ; the Italian
ragged ; the Spaniard decent.
In Manners,
The German is clownish ; the English-
raan 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 li«
should divulge, and divulges what ht
should conceal ; the Frenchmin 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 Offending and Doing Good,
The German is inactive; the English-
man does both without consideration ;
the Italian is prornpt in beneficence, but
vindictive ; the Spaniard indifferent.
In Speaking,
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.
Jn 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; tlie Frenchman a
smatterer; the Italian a professor; and
the Spaniard a grave thinker.
Magnijicence.
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.
h. m.
'November 23. — Day breaks . . 5 45
Sun rises . . 7 47
— sets. . . 4 13
Twilight ends . 6 15
6':»5
THE VEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 24.
THE MILLER'S TOMB.
At the west end of the miller's tomo
on llighdown-Ilill is a rude sculpture of
" Death running away from Time, who
pursues, and is ""holding him by ihe right
shoulder with his right hand: his left
holds a Time glass; Death a spear in his
left hand." This is the account in 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
tolerab'y correct representation. Below
the stone is the following
Inscription.
Death, vihy so fast ? — pray stop your hand.
And let my glass run out its sand : —
As neither Death nc r Time will stay.
Let us implore the present day.
Why start you at the skeleton ?
Tis your picture which you shun ;
Alive, it did resemble thee.
And thou, when dead, like that shall be : —
But tho' 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 2'tme and Death
Both a^ree 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
tliem go nobody can tell where.
iiohtmhct 24.
Second Sight.
Dr. Johnson, who, a few years before
his death, visited Scotland, the country
in which a belief in its existence siiK
prevails, has superseded every othet
account of it by what he has left to us on
the subject, lie says
" We should have had little claim to
the praise of curiosity, if we liad 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-
firmed through its whole descent by a
serifs of successive facts, it is desirable
that the truth should be established, or
the fallacy detected.
" 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, fails from
his horse ; another, who is perhaps at
work about the house, sees him bleedinij
on the ground, commonly with a land-
scape of the place where the acciderK
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, o5
whom, if he knows them, he relates the
names, if he knows them not, he can d&
scribe the dresses. Things distant are see«
at the instant when they happen. Of thinpj
future I know not that there is any ruld
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 be
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 is called
Taisch ; which signifies likewise a spectre
or a vision. I know not, nor is it likely
that the Highlanders ever examined,
whether by Tuischy used for second sight,
they mean the power of seeing or the
thing seen.
" I do not find it to be true, as it i?
reported, that to the second sight nothing
696
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 24.
is presented but phantoms of evil. Good
(»eems to h;.ve the same proportion in
those vision; ry 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 faculty 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 difficulty 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
instance* have been given, with such
evidence as neither Bacon r.or Boyle has
oeen able to resist; that sudden impres-
jiions, which the event has verified, have
been felt by more than own 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, wheie 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. Those 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 may perhaps be resolved at last
into prejudice and tradition." Dr. John-
son concludes with observing, — "I never
could advance my curiosity to conviction ;
but <;:ame away, at last, only willing to
believe."
Rowlands, in his " Mona Antiqua res-
taurata," 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 Tuish
in Scotland ; which is a way of predictin g
by a sort of vision they call second sight '■
697
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 24.
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 llie noble soul of a soldier ;
on his reply, that his pay was small, she,
looking stedfastly on him, said th.t 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 lie 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 com-
mander in the army, they left the traitor
to his disposal, who, asking his name,
and being told tliat he was called Aper,
t. e. a boar, without further pause he
sheathed his sword in his bowels, saying
tt hunc Apr urn 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 stoiy 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
ancf Swedeland, continued there, in the
most heathenish parts, to this day, as is
set forth in the story of the late Duncan
Campbel."
In Collins's " Ode on the popular Su-
perstitions of the Highlands of Scotland"
♦re the following lines on this subject :
Cow they, whose sight such dreary dreair.s
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 prcem
Their desliu'd glance sotrte fated youth
descry.
Who, now, perhaps, in lusty vigor seen,
And rosy health, sljall soon lamented die.
• • • »
To Monarchs dear, some hundred miles
astray.
Oft have they seen Fate give the fatal blow .
The Seer, in Sky, shrick'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 Waldron's
" Description of the Isle of Man."
** The natives of the island tell you,
that, before any person dies, tlie 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
offered to make oath that, as they have
been passing the read, one of these fune-
rals has come behind them, and even laid
the bier on their shoulders, as tiiough 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 myself 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, tliough perhaps it wai
Gi)8
THE YEAR 1300K.— NOVEMBER 25. 26.
some days before I hoped it myself at my
going abroad. That this is fact, I am
positively convinced by many proofs."
The light which we have gained wns
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
On the 25th of November, 1724, the
ship Bouevia, of London, burthen about
250 tons. Captain Brooks commander,
set sail from 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. Tlie 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 moving manner,
«*hat a woman in such an extremity would
prove a dangerous incumbrance. She
implored hini 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 swell,
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 tha
rigging. The boat's crew redoubled their
efforts 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 island's
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 bi-eaks . 5 47
Sun rises . . 7 49
— sets . . 4 11
Twilight ends . 6 13
KolJ^mfiet: 26.
Yesterday, the narrative of the provi-
dential survival of a captain and his wife,
and their transports on discovering each
other to be alive,after each had supposed the
other had perished,may be well succeeded
• Plain-Dealer, No. 88.
099
TIIE YEAR BOOK.— NOA^E^lBEIl 26.
by an affe "linir story of a final separation
intiicted bv 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 strug-
glers (who die with strong reluctance, and
linger and lenjjthen out their last painful
moment), would be a startling sight to
those 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 my 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
tumult 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 condemnel at the county assizes,
in one of the late circuits, for stealing a
horse ; and a letter had just now been
delivered to his wife, which the criminal
himself had written the very morning 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, reinarkable for his
mdustry, and i.ever known before to have
beeen guilty of the least dishonesty. He
had six children alive, and the eldest but
eight years old. His motber, who lived
in the same little house, had been dis-
abled by sickness for several months
] ast : 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 '• Gleaner.
only spent in this journey all the little he
had carried with hini ; and, not beinir
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 brouglit her the confirma-
tion of a reprieve, which a former had
given her hopes of. But she was so
shocked rnd 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 been thrown from. Ano-
ther slept in the era lie, 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 ! — her lips ! — her bosom ! 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 v.ho 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 par'
7C0
THE YEAR BOOK-NOYEMBER 26.
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, tliat 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 is, 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 things to make
up tliat 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 1
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 having 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 to 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 tak'e 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 1 think of this dismal partirig
—Oh ! 'tis very sad ! — God bless you in
this unhappy world, dear dear Betty
" From your unfortunate,
" dying husband,
" K. S."
I carried this letter wj«h me to au
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 criec^
for help, and was so obstinate and clan*,
orous, that I was under the necessity f*
kill him, or submit myself to be take^
And thus I argued in my miud : if
murder him I shall get off; or, at wors«.
if I am taken my punishment will be no
greater than if I spare Kim, and surrender:
1 can be but hanged for murder, and I
must be hanged loo 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 at 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
701
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEMBER 27 28.
VDUftlllirt 27.
Novemoer 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
s( ssion by the House of Lords. The first
precedent for their infliction of fines ap-
pears about two years afterwards, uhen
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 I ent,
l^Lileral Copy.']
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 his our loss.
Great his 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. . 4 8
Twilight ends . 6 11
Kobrmt^r 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 are
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.
The following lines, are from " Wyili-
ther's Abuses stript and whipt," 1613 :—
For worthleRS matters some arc wondrous sad.
Whom if I call not vaine I must tcrme mad
If that their noses bleed some certain drops.
And then again upon '.he suddain stops,
Or, if the babling foulc 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 bablc,
rh('.- mirth is spoil'd, because they hold it
true
That some mischance must thereupon ensue. —
Somniis, vibratione Palpebrae, Sortibus,
Jaclis, &c. ad qua? prajsagia homines
bardi stupent attoniti : inquisitores futu-
rorum negligentes prjEsentia.
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," s^.ys he, " I saw : viz. the totter-
ing of the Crown upon his head; tiie
broken canopy over it; and the rent
Flag hanging upon the white Tower when
I came home from tiie Coronation. It
was torn by the wind at the same time
the signal was given to the Tower that he
was crowned. [ 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 :
'^Vhy are those tears ? why droops your head ?
Is then your other husband dead ?
Or docs a worse disgrace betide ?
Hath no one since his death applied ?
Alas ! you know the cause too well.
The sal: is Roilt, to me it fell.
Then to contribute to my loss.
My knife and fork were laid across.
* Law Magazine, 1831, p. 3.
♦ Legal Obsen'cr, Feb. 5, 1831.
i02
TFTE YEAK BOOK.-NOVEMBEE 29, 30.
On Friday too ! the day I dread !
Would I were safe at home in bed !
Last night (I vow to heav'n 'tis true)
Bounce from the fire a coffin flew.
Next post some fatal news shall tell !
God send my Cornish friends 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 ; o'erturn'd the pannier lay.
And her mash'd eggs bestrew'd the way.
She, sprawling in the yellow road,
Rail'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.
Unclench your fist, and wipe your clothes ;
But why on me those curses thrown ?
Goody, the fault was all your own j
For, had you laid this brittle ware
On Dun, the old sure-footed mare.
Though all the ravens of the hundred
With croaking had your tongue out-thunder'd.
Sure-footed Dun had kept his legs.
And you, good woman, sav'd your eggs.
h. m.
'Ncvember 28 — Day breaks . .
5 50
Sun rises . .
7 53
— sets . .
4 7
Twilight ends .
6 10
lyroijemi&et: 29.
[For the Year Book.]
November 29, 1759, died at Keysoe, a
village about nine miles from Bedford,
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. In 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 him 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 w^as 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 full enjoyment of all
his faculties. The chair in which he sat
while engaged in pointing the steeple wa*
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) an 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 to 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 destroyeth
ail things."
&. m* ^*
h. m.
November 29. — Day breaks . 5 51
Sun rises . . 7 54
— sets ..46
Twilight ends . 6 9
St. Andrew.
This is th*r festival day of the patron
saiiit 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
703
THE YEAR BOOK.— NOVEAfBER 30.
lf>e act of drinking a cup of Welsli ale,
containing about a wme quart, called a
tumbler viaur. lie 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 foi y
stone. Although he died in his parlour,
it was found necessary to construct a
machiiie in form of a crane, to lift his
body on 4. carriage, and afterwards to have
the machine in the church-yard to let
him down into the grave. lie 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
Uiyevy 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."
EXEHCISF, AM) ReCUEATION
The exercise which I recommend first is
the exact use of their weapons, to guar»i
and to strike safely vvilh edge or point ; this
will keep them healthy, nimble, strong
and well in breath; is also the likeliest
means to make tliein grow large and tall,
and to inspire them with a gallant and
fearless courage, which, being tempered
with seasonable lectures and precepts to
them of true fortitude and patience, will
turn into an active and heroic valor,
and make them hate the cowardice of
doing wrong. The interim of unsweating
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 fancied de-
scant in lofty fugues, or the whola of the
symphony vvilh artful and unimaginable
touches adorn and grace the well studied
chords of some choice composer ; some-
times the lute or soft organ stop wailing
on elegant voices, eitlier to religious, mar-
tial, or civil ditties ; which, if wise men
and prophets be not extremely out, havs.
a great power over dispositions and man-
ners, to smooth and make them gentle
from rustic harshness and distempered
passions. — Milton.
h. m.
November 30.-
— Day breaks .
5 52
Sun rises . ,
7 65
— sets . .
4 5
Twilight ends .
6 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 Indastry delight.
At length the stir of rural Labiif'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' fl-ails awake the dreary day.
Clare
704
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBEIl.
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-g eens,
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 berries small,
These deck the unused candlesticks.
And pictures hanging by the wall.
Clare's iSJiepherd's Calendar,
Vol. IV^.
705
2 Z
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER.
Now is the season of dreariness and rich "fare sumptuously every day" ; an,
glooo. The sun rises hite and sets early : retire, saled with enjoyment, to couches of
his beams display not tlie 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 Teed the hungry, to avert the
destitute we may hear the low wai'.ings 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 halhvisited," especially know that to
to God in the highest ! and on earth do unto others as we would be done unto
\ieacel good will towards men !" And the is the bond of human 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 I
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 grfi;ll«
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 I — 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;
Ot flowers of prouder bloom would shame thee to retire
706
THE YEAR BOOK.-DECEMBEk.
Yet many a withering blast we've braved betcrt
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 adv*ised.
Can 1 the magic charms of song resign
For ought the world accounts more worth its ca'-.} ?
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 a'rray ;
Like them enamoured of the lovely scene.
With imitative power I join the lay :
When tuneful Phoebus gains his brightenmg way.
Who can his powerful influence resist?
And as the year is waning fast away,
An elegiac tliought inspires my breast ;
And late in wintry days are my own woes expressed I
A. B.
Alimentary Calendar.
Fish in season, during December, are
turbof, 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,
geesfc, 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 tnat
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 head, with a lemon
stuck between the tusks.
Christmas week is a season of festivitv
among all ranks of people. The middling
classes, who are for the most part iramers°
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, turkeys 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 uxury
the mince- pie.
Charles Small Pybus, esq., author cf
The Sovereign (a poem): dedicated to
707
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMB Ell 1.
ilis 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
splendidpress— dedicated "to a plum,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 sov'rcign
lord.
Than ever bow'd beneath the dubbing sword ;
Than ever heard the famous bell of Bow,
Or gaz'd with transport on a Jord 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 pampcr'd 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 ihem'^elves alone, their tastes dis-
pense
Fallacious scemings to the outward sense :
Their truest in6uence 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 j
Not in the tyrant's persecuting mood,
lint as a graceful instriiment 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 rsigus in realms beyend his
own :
Through foreign latitudes his pow'r extends.
And only terminates where eating ends :
Biest Epicuies from ev'ry climate pour
Their gustful praise, his cumulating store,
Improv'd in gweets and spices, hourly draws
The countless tribute of a world's applause.
Hail then, exalted pye, whose high renown
Danes, Dutchmen, Russians, with applauses
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. —
Chaunls the high hymn to themes that far
surpass
The luxuries of honour'd Mrs. Glasse.
Kitchen Garden Directory.
\'ery little can be done in the garden,
in December, yet advantau;o miy be taken
of open seasons, to sow a few early frames
of Charlton peas, beans, and radishes;
tliey 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 attemf)t to make it
accommodate itself to any soil, situation,
or temperature, which we should choose
to prefer. Human beings only require, to "oe
treated as we treat plants.— j[7/c ^ocm/
Sj/stem, by John Gray, 1831.
^atmttx 1.
An Alphabet for Beginners, on the
beginning of each jniontu.
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 tht
jocular.
K eep your business and conscience well
and they will keep you well.
L ive and let live ; that is, do as yo .
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.
7C8
THE YEAE J300K.-DECEMBEK 2.
P assion will master you, if you do not
master your passion.
Q uick at meat, quick at work.
K evenge a wrong by forgiving it.
S liort reckonings make long friends.
T he early bird catclieth 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.
December 1. — Day breaks . 5 53
Sun rises ... 7 56
— sets ..,44
Twilight ends . 6 7
Btttmttv 2.
St. .. AMEs's Palace.
On the 2nd of December, 1784, Mr.
William Ilutton, of Birmingham, arrived
in London, upon a subpoena, to give evi-
dence upon a trial in tl)e court of king's
bench. lie 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 family
which has long had my best wishes. The
pleasure-grounds, which form the paik,
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 cut of use,
by the dust upon them. * They are
cleaned, sir, once in two years.' Tlien 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
t!ie 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
heavy, 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, thouoh 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. 1 concluded
it must 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 the kings. Pray is
there another, where he learns to conduct
the people ?"
The Bank.
Afterwards Mr. Ilutton went to the
hank, 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 sai'or, 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 conrersation together, saw the
very man in the street at Bristol. * Joim,*
says the capta'n, * do you remember
709
THE YEAR BOOK.-DECEMBER 2.
making shipwreck of the bank notes, and
feeding the sea with guineas ? ' * Yes,
sir.' — half ashamed. * Did you ever re-
pent it?' *1 have since wanted the
money.* Perhaps without pity."
London Stone.
A few minutes' walk from the bank
took Mr, llutton to London stone. He
.ays, " There are situations, justifiable in
themselves, in which a man may be
ashamed to be found. Every man acts
in private wliat he ridicules in public.
The error only consists in the discovery.
It is not possible for ti)e antiquary to pass
by, unnoiiced, 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
could gain v as, ' U 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 riditcule 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 cval 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
VVatling-stree rises near Dover, and pro-
ceeds north-west in a direct line to the
Irish sea, near Chester. 1 know no town
it originally passed through, except Lon-
don.
* Thilke way hy mony town doth wcndc,*
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, Now is Morti-
mer lord of this city : the only sentence
of intelligence that ever escaped him, and
seems to have been uttered in an ecstacy
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 Ethelstan, king
of the west Saxons, without any particular
reference to its 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 cullours 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 Londor>
stone." — Hence we gather that it was
customary to affix papers against this
stone, as an official place for public read-
ing
710
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 3.
h. ra.
December 2. — Day breaks , , 5 54
Sun rises . . . 7 o7
— sets ..43
Twilight ends . 6 6
The Boar's Head, Eastciieap.
Yesterday we left Mr Hutton at Lon-
don stone ; to-day we will follow him
thence to the Boar's Mead, lie 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
Falstaflf. Though 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
up, and instead of an half timber build-
ing, with one story projecting over the
other, as I expected, the edifice was mo-
dern, with a date in the front of 1660.
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. K I enter a
butcher's shop, he gives me a welcome
look. The sale of a joint of meat enters
the fine nerves of hi? 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 cjood
humour, unobserved by himself. — Who
this was accomplished, he informed mt
that the place was sold by auction, three
weeks before, at Garraway's coffee-liouse ;
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 diiectly 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 snuff, I did not express a de-
sire to see it. There is a pleasure in
meeting with a person whose sentiments
coincide willi one's own. It is a positive
proof we are not singular, and a presump-
tive one we ere 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 upon 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 Tower.— The Regalia.
We will follow Mr. Ilutton 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 iheir lodge ; who, on seeing the
dust abound on my shoes, wisely con-
cluded lha# money could not abound i»
711
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 3.
n.j pocket, and, wilh the voice of au-
thority, ordered me back. (Observing
vast quantities of cordage for slupping,
lie in the open air, 1 expressed my sur-
prise tliat sucl> valuable property, which
micht be 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 tritle, and
then the place is supplied with more,
which quickly follows the same way.
Mr, llutton'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 qbscure corner,
and rang a bell. After waiting a short
time, another door on our let"! flew open,
and we entered a dismal hole, resembling
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 in 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,
* Tiiis 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,
I'enry 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 betweer
the two houses of York and Lancaster,
which could not be stopped br.t for thirty
years, by which a hundred thousand peo-
ple lost their lives, and half the famtlies
in the kingdom were ruined. It induced
Richard III. to murder his nephevrs
under this very roof; and Henry VII. to
stain his character with the death of Ed-
ward Plantagentt. 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
I I, 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. Willirm
III. declared he would not hold it by
apron-strings, and, to regain this lost
trifl-e, the unfortunate house of Stuart
struggled for three score years. — Here,
take agaiti 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. Hut-
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?" "Aboiit 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, w ho dragged
him to tower-hill, where they hacked 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 my
name, and place of abode, in their lodge-
book, for which they produced an order
oi (he mrlieu tenant."
I
712
TflE YEAR BOOK.-DECEMBER 3.
OLD CHAPEL, WHITTLESFORD BRIDGE, CAMBRIDGESHIRE.
A Visit to Whittlesford Bridge.
[For the Year Bock.]
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 a.id 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 Ashwoll in Hertfordshire. About a
urlong west from the bridge, to the left
of the road, stands a public-house.
" Where tne Red Li(m staring o'er the way.
Invites each passing stranger that can pay."
ihis " 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 ; to forgive it — -Jine !
Over the door we found the name of the
present landlord, "Thomas Holiday;"
the surname seeming so very appropriate
to owrholiday, and the words 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 fairc and free.
That entertains wuh comely courtcont pl^»
713
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEIMBER 3.
We examined him upon interrogatories,
and lie good-naturedly told us all he had
heard about the antiquity of the place. He
informed us that a few years back, when
making some alterations, a stone was dis-
covered bearing date A. D. 1006.* We
▼isited 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
remembe*- 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 cot to be doubted of in tb« pre-
tence of the landlord. — W. H J
(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 charm'd from the power of ill,
Ity 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 belter than might be
expected from the dilapidated state of the
exterior; but whether this ancient relic
was " the school of divine philosophy,
the residence of virtue, the abode of
chastity " is to me unknown : yet
" La sainte rociuilinent la paisibic innocence
Sembler de ces lieus habitcr le silence."
The west end is bricked up entirely, and
i.ppears of no very ancient date; and,
from a foundation which was discovered
some yp,ars ago, it may be presumed the
chape 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
mullions 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 underthegoveinmentofaprior,sub-
ject to the bishops of Kly, and that it pos-
sessed an estate of upwards of thirty acres
of land, and the water-mill at Duxford,
714
THE YEAR BOOK-DECEJ^IBEK 4.
besides the right of holding a fair, which
was kept in the reign of Edward I. The
property now belongs to lord Farnborough,
and IS situate about nine miles from
Cambridge, on the high road leading
from lloyston to Bournbridge, and one
mile north-east from Duxford.
T.N.
Decembe- 3.— Day breaks . . 5 54*
Sun rises ... 7 58
— sets ... 4 2
Twilight ends • 6 6
Btttmfitx 4.
December 4, 1820, Mr. Samuel Rous-
seau died in distressed circumstances.
He had served an apprenticeship in the
office of Mr. John Nichols, the printer,
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 "main 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 I
A little boy did grasp the rags.
So like unto his own.
To keep him on the slippery flags.
While heedless men pushed oa.
And aye up to his mother's orcw.
O'er which a remnant hung_,
That told he was an orphan now.
He turned him as he clung ;
And sobbed in cold and weariness ;
And I heard him weeping say.
With an old-aged voice of dreariness,
" Is it. Mammy, far away ? "
I knew not what the question meant.
But afterwards I found,
'Twas one with a deep interest in't
To every thing around !
T3 e wearied widow then did stoop,
And panting raised her knee.
On which, beneath her thin cloak's droop
A burden she leant heavily. '
" ! Mammy, 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 ti|l night
Had almost hid the sky.
That, as the church-yard warders ligb
I 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.
Tlie 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 ihe grave.
So soon he sought if near,
Is't far away — O ! who so brave
May ask without a fear ?
And there the mother, wan and wild
Her cloak the only pall !
Had borne alone the coffined child,
iJeside 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 liallowed ground
Is heard the watchman's tread ;
She would not that her babe were found
But with the untouched dead !
It is 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 A. — Daybreaks , . 5 55
Sun rises ... 7 55
— sets .'.41
Twilight ends . 6 5
715
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER o.
©rrrmlirr 5.
Advent im Normandy.
A very singular spectacle presents it-
self lo 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 alarnris 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 unfti
to perform the office oi" exorcists. Tliese
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 mulots,
Sorlez, sortez, tie mon clas,
Ouje vous brule la barbe et les os.
Arbres. arbrisseaux,
Donnez-moi des pomes a miiiot.
" 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, howevei, 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-
tfri g 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 tne Eure-et-Loire.*
Unheard of Curiosities
[To Mr. Hone.]
Ju7ie 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
laid about men in bed 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 budgje m tlie water at hoist-
ing sail, unless what is put there be taken
away, or }ou go out of the ship. The
origin of quails here following is carious:
a quail is a bird known to all,yel 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 tiiese
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 hollow
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, !:ot if you
should take any thing away that is in the
house. The following receipt is one of
* Time's Telescope, 1828.
71 >
THE YEAli BOOK.--DECEMBER 6.
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
Jry fig, ind shall lay it on the fire when
the uir is still, he will see the orb of the
moon as 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 crocodile 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
his 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
slone 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
riakes the sight sharp. It is good for
tie beginning of a suffusion, a cataract,
timing hack of the eyelid, roughness, di-
jUioa oi oldom
equalled, and can never, never bo sur-
passed. There was also a gymnasium, oi
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 bridcA'ell,
and barracks for cavalry — all, wiihou;
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 — tliy
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 vearsago.'
R.T.
July 25, 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 those times.
h. m.
Decemhir 18. — Day breaks . 6
Sun rises ..87
— sets ... 3 53
Twilight ends . 6
736
THE YEAR BOOK.- DECEMBER 18.
LORD BYRON'S DEATH-PLACE AT MISSOLONGHL
Mr. W. Delamotte jun. communicated
*he 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,
distinguisned by an awnmg and balcony
in front 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 nexi 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 modern in-
vention. In Mr. Turner's History of the
Anglo-Saxons there is much respecting
the period of its origin.
Macaronic Poetry is said to l^tve been
first written by Theophilus Folengi, who
Ined about 1520 — Fo$hroke.
" Monkish Poems."
[To Mr. Hone.]
Karnpstead Heath, 1 July, 18.31.
Sir, — A late perusal of some Monkish
poetTis, together with sir Alex. Croke's
interesting essay on the subject, has in-
duced me to offer my mites (albeit, not
of current coin of the realm) to the
Editor of the Year Book, — a poor re-
turn, i'faith, for months of amusement:
other friends, however, may contribute of
their abundance; I can, but testify my
good will.
I have merely to add that, contrary to
the practice of a late elegant writer of
macaronics, I have invariably used ac-
cented as rhyming s} llables. Thus only,
as it strikes me, can the euphony of these
trifles be secured. I have added th ;
English, though familiar to all, r. erely
for facility of comparison.
Most obediently yonr<^
B.LW
Vol, IV,
737
3 B
1 TIE YEAR BOOK
— DECEMBFV ^ft.
monti^f^ Frt0f0.
J^ord Bj/rons extempore Farewell to
Thomas Moore.
Carmen quiddam valedicens a Domino
Byron ad Thomam Morum 'e$ 'viroyviov
conscriptum.
My boat is on the shore —
Me ad littus manet cymba —
And my bark is on the sea—
Stat in alto navis : — ibo. —
But, before I go, Tom Moore,
Priiis autem, me sodalis.
Here's a double health to thee.
Tibi bisque terque bibo.
Here's a sigh for those that love me,
Qui am&stis me valete —
And a smile for those that hate;
Valeant et qui oderunt —
And, whatever sky's above me.
Pectus en ! quod forte feret
Here's a heart for every fate.
Fata cctli quoevis erunt.
Tho' the ocean roar around me,
Circa licbt mare fremat.
Yet it still shall bear me on —
Trans undosos ferar monies — ^
Tho' the desert should surround me,
Circa pateat eremus, ">
It hath springs that may be won : —
Dulcis aquae tenet fontes : —
Wer't the last drop in the well,
Ima mod6 restet gutta.
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Repil jacens sicco ore
Ere my fainting spirit fell,
Tibi, an;m&, languente,
'Tis to thee thai I would drink.
Bibam ultimo humore.
In that water, as this wine,
Cordis hoc vocisque votum
The libation I 'A'ould pour
^qu& \\\k h6c ceu vino
Should be — " Peace to thine and niino,
Siet— " Tuis Pax meisqtie
Here's a health to thee, Tom Moore."
Tibi, Thoma mi propirb*
y-o/w Shakspeare*s Paisionate Pilgrim
Quid senectae cum juvenl&.
Simul agunt non securae ; —
Crabbed age and youth
Est juventus plena salum,
Cannot live together ;
Est senectus plena curas. ™
Youth is full of pleasaunce.
Est juventa sol acstivus,
Age is full of care :
Est senectus brumae cruda.
Youth like summer morn,
Est juventus sestas ardens.
Age like winter weather :
Est senectus hyems nuda.
Youth like summer brave.
Plena joc&m est juventa,
, Age like winter bare :
Anima senectae lenta.
Youth is full of sport.
Est juventus pede cita
Age's breath is short ;
Est senectus impedita;
Youth is nimble, age is lame:
Dum juventa fervet— viget —
Youth is hot and 'oold.
Heu ! senectus fracta — friget
Age is weak and cold ;
Venis est juventa plenis,
Youth is wild, and age is tame.
At senectai sicca lenis.
Age, I do abhor thee ;
Apage — senectus — ore ;
Youth, I do adore thee ;
Te, juventa, te adoro;
O, my iove, my love is young :
! quam amo qu^m decora \
Age, I do defy thee ;
Hinc, senectus, hinc abito^
O sweet shepherd, hie thee.
Pastorelle, \\\lc et citb,
For methinks thou stay'st too long.
Nimis enim longa raDra.
738 J
THE YEAR BOOK.-DECEMBER 19, 20.
Btctmtcv 19.
Steeple Flying.
December 19, 173.5.-— A feat of this
ind iu Wiltshire is thus recorded in the
Gentleman's Magazine. It was anciently
an achievement from the steeple of old
St. Paul's cathedral, and of great amiiSe-
ment to the populace during royal pro-
cessions through London.
From Bromham in Wilts came the high flying stranger,
W^hose 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 steeple ;
lie 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
rope Trom the top of Hackney steeple in
less than half a minute, with a streamer
in each liand.
Hocus Pocus.
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,
that went about in king James's time and
A)ng since, who called himself the king's
majef?iies most excellent Hocus Focusy
and so was he called, because that at the
playing of every trick, he used to say
hocus pocus tontus, talontus, vade ctleriter
'ubeo — a darke composition of words to
blind the eyes of beholders.''
Butler, in his Hudibras, has the fol-
lowins:
. with a slight
Convey men's interest, and right.
From Stilcs's pocket into Nokes's
As tasily as hocus pocus.
Archbishop Tillotson, in his " Discourse
on Transubstantiation," says that " in all
prcbabiiUy those common juggling words
of hocus pocus are nothing else but a
corruption of hoc est corpus," used in the
catholic ceremony of consecration.
\ allency, speaking of hocus pocus, de-
rives it with less probability from the
Irish " Coic an omen, a mystery; and
Dais, the palm of the hand : whence is
formed coiche-bas, legerdemain ; persice,
choko-baz : whence the vulgar English
hocus pocus."
Another phrase, " Iliccius doctias" is
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 priests were looked up to with the
greatest veneration, and their piesence
announced in the assemblies with the
terras hie est doctus! hie est doctus ! and
this probably is the origin of the modern
corruption hiccius doctius.* M. F."
h.
na.
December 19.-
— Day breaks
6
1
Sun rises
. 8
7
— sets . .
. 3
53
Twilight ends ,
5
59
Becemhtv 20.
Remarkable Dwarf.
December 20, 1735. The Gentlemen'
Magazine records.
A dwarf from France arrived in town.
Measuring but 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, there is
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 the heart, it doth denote him,
" undoubtedly to be wicked." If a mole
in either man or woman appear on tha
olace right against the spleen, it doth sig-
739
THE YEAR BOOK— DECEMBEll 21.
)ify tliai lie or slie shall be " much pas-
sionaletl and oftentimes sick."
In ** A Thousand notable Things," we
find th?t 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 si«;n 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 lioth to men and wo-
men ; on the other siOe quite the con-
trary. Moles on the right ear denote
riches and honor ; on the left, ihey signify
the reverse.
The signification of moles is derivable
from ihe mole books still published for
the satisfaciion of the curious in secret
matters.
December 20. — Day breaks
Sun rises
— sets . .
Twilight ends
Becemhtv 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.*
r' "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 say), and have
gathered the following from her near
neighbours .—Elizabeth Balls, or, as siie
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 Ilainalt Forest, in the county of Kssex,
a distance of about sixteen miles from llie
Metropolis. Perhaps a more singular
being was never known : for the hist
twenty years of her life she resided in
'ler wretched abode, aocotnpanied 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
manners. 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 com pie 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.
Iler 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
made slaves and put to death, that a
universal panic took place, and a great
number of the terrified inhabitants endLa«
740
THE YEAR BOOK. -DECEMBER 21.
voured to save themselves by flight. As
every pari t(nvards t«ie north and east was
beset by the enemy, it is most probable
that Zinganen, the country below 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
Petraea 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, afier 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 £^j//j^tan Roges, they have de-
vised a language aniong 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
hanged by the neck, a just reward no
doubt for his deceits, and a common end
to all of that profession,"
Browne, in his \'ulgarErrors, gives tliis
general account of the Gipsies : " They
are a kind of counterfeit Moors, to be
found ill many parts of Europe, A.sia, and
Africa. They are commonly supposed to
nave come from Egypt, from whence they
ierive themselves. Munster discovered
.n 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 penance,
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 the'r 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, forwhatwith
strangeness of their attire and garments,
together with their sleights and legerde-
mains, they were spoke of farre and neere,
insomuch that many of our English loy-
terers joyned with them, and in time
learned their crafte and cosening. The
speach which they used was the right
Egyptian Language^ with whom our En-
glishmen conversing with, at least learned
their language. Tliese people continuing
about the cuntry in this fashion, practising
their cosening art of fast and loose and
legerderoaine, purchased themselves great
credit among the cuntry people, and got
much by palmistry and telling of fortunes,
insomuch 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
liather (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 quecne, 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
741
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 21.
what a number were executed presentli/
upon this Slatutrt you would wonder :
yet, notwithstanding, all would not pre-
vaile ; but still they wandered as before,
up and down, and meeting once in a
yeere at a place appointed — sometimes at
the Devils A in Peake in Darbishire,
and olherwhiles 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 dailif decrease
and breake off their wonted society^ 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 de
la France," says, " On August 17, 1427,
came to Paris twelve penitents (penan-
ciers) 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 own
country, and had a king and 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 npon them and obliged ihera all,
both great and small, to quit their
country, and go to the pope at Rome,
who enjoined them seven years' penance
to wander 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 were 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 old shaggy garment (flossoye)
tied ov°r their shoulders with a cloth or
cord-sash, and under it a ].oor petticoat
or shift. In short they were the poorest
wretches that had ever bein se«n in
France ; and, notwithstanding their po-
verty, there were among them women
who, by looking into paonle's hands told
their fortunes et mcirent contens en plu"
sieurs mariages ; for they said, thy wife
has played thee false (Ta femme I'a fart
coup) and what was 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 5lh 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, confonnable to the laws of Egypt,
and in punishing certain persons there
named, who rebelled against Iiim, 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 iti
Scotland. The Faws had been previously
for some time in England, and from hiin
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
742
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 22.
John 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 s'ill
continue to be called " Faws" in the
north of England.
Gay, in his pastorals, speaking of a
girl who is slighted by her .o\er, thus de-
scribes the Gipsies : —
Last Friday's eve, when as the sun was set,
I, near yon style, three sallow Gipsies met j
Upon my hand they 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 : —
" Down by yon hazel copse, at evening, blazed
The Gipsey 's faggot. — There we stood and
gaz'd i
Gaz'd on her snn-burnt face with silent awe.
Her talter'd mantle, and her hood of straw :
Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er j
The drowsy brood that on her back she bore,
Imps in the barn with mousing owlet bred.
From rifled roost at nightly revel fed ;
Whose dark eyes flash'd thro' locks of blackest
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 pi^ce 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. Iloyland'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.*
h. m.
6 1
8 7
3 53
5 59
December 21. — Day breaks
Sun rises
— sets . .
Twilight ends
Bttemttv 22,
LONGEVITY.
December 22, 1753, died the Rev. Mr.
Braithwaite of Cai lisle, at the age of
110. In 1652, he commenced singing-
boy in the cathedral, and had been sing-
ing upwards of 100 years.
A Dream.
On the 22d of December, 1754, died
William Anne Van Keppel, earl of Al-
bemarle, ambassador at the court of
France. When his, wiaow 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 1 dreamed it last
night."*
• BranJ
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 whose 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 in
the Royal observatory at Greenvvich.
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, and
140 degrees on the limb) of the meridi-
onal zenith distances of the fixed stars,
with the times of their transits over the
meridian ; 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 Ilorton ; where he
fitted up an observatory of his own, having
first constructed a curious engine for
turning all kinds or work in wood or
brass, with a mandrel for turning ovals,
loses, wreathed pillars, &c. He made
most of the tools used by joiners, clock-
* G^Cileman's Maj^azinc.
US
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 22.
makers, opticiatis, 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 minutei. The telescopes he
used vrere 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 mo^t of
the tables in the second volume of his
'* Historia Ccelestis," 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
southern constellations. lie 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 out in a most
exact manner in box-wood. Few or
none of the mathematical instrument-
makers could exceed him in exactly gra-
duating, or neatly engraving any mathe--
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 logarithmotic
sines, tangents, and secants of the seconds
to every minute of the first degree cf the
quadrant.
Mr Sharp corresponded with Flam-
steed, sir Isaac Newton, Dr. Halley, Dr.
Wallis, Hodgson, Sherwin, and most of
the eminent astronomers of the times.
He 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 signal
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 member, every Sunday, 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 num-
ber of poor people who followed him,
without his looking back, or asking a
question.
M:. 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 he was
generally employed in calculations and
another chamber or room in the house
where a servant could enter; before tnis
said hole was a sliding board; the servant
placed his victuals in the hole, wiihout
speaking, or making the least noise, and
when at leisure he visited his cujjboard
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 calls him "the incom-
parable Mr. Sharp ;" and adds that *' liis
tables are sufticient to represent the cir-
cumference of the globe of the earth so
truly as not to err the breadth of a gram
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, Perth-
shire, says, " There is a bell belonging to
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
its being used for superstitious purposes."
December 22. — Day breaks
Sun rises
— sets . .
Twdight ends
h. m.
G 1
8 8
3 52
5 i>9
744
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 22.
OLNEY BRIDGE, BUCKINGHAMSHIRE.
Cowper's Walks.
[For the Year Book.]
In the early part of the present year I
visited Olney, in Bucks, which \^ill no
doubt be remembered as having been the
abiding place of the poet Covvper 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 iho
chief scenes described in the "Task" aro
laid. These scenes were indelibly im
pressed on my 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 hut necGiu 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
ot Cowper.
To give an idea of this bridge I have
sent a representation of it as it appenrprl
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
infi.-mities. I had an interview wi*.h thi«
745
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 23.
worth V at tlie post office at Olney ; 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
faihers," 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 upright 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 tiiat Cowper in-
habited at Olney is now tenantless; 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 1 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
Every-Dai/ Book. I visited the field
where stood the poplars whose fall he so
feelingly laments in some exquisite verses
commencing,
'* The poplars are fell'd, farewell to the shade.'*
There are now standing, of wliat 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
called the " Lynch close."
An old woman at Olney told me she
remembered Cowper perfectly well, "He
was a sorrowful-looking man," she said,
" and very particular in avoiding persons
in his walks — he would turn down any
path that presented itself to avoid being
seen." She remembers tiiat he was ac-
companied in his walks by a small
spotted spaniel, no doubt " Beau," two
of whose feats he has immortalized in two
beautiful pieces.
J. L. C.
I3tctmi)tt 23.
December 23, 1743, died, aged seventy-
nine, roar-admiral Sir John Jennings,
governor of Greenwich Hospital. Sii
John Jennings gave to Greenwich Hos-
pital the statue of king George II.,
which stands iti 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'! apartments there is a por-
trait of sir 1 :hu Jennings by Richard-
son.
BiiiXAL Smugolinc.
A person in Flanders, who carried on
a smuggling traffic with Brabant lace,
employed a large dog for this purpose in
the following manner. Haying first shorn
him of his hair, 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 it, 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-
mmir across the moat at Malines, three
* Noble
•46
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 24.
slugs were fired at him^ whicli killed him
in the water. Lace to the amount of
more than five thousand dollars was
found upon him.*
h. m.
December 23. — Day breaks
6 1
Sun rises . .
8 7
— sets . . .
3 53
Twilight ends .
5 59
B(ttmttv 24.
Christmas Eve.
In the " Bellman's Treasury, 1707," is
the following,—
Upon Christmas Eve.
Up Doll, Peg, Susan ; you all spoke to ine
Betimes to call you, and *tis now past three ,
Get up on your but-cnds, 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. J
Dec. 8, 1827.
No wliere 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
'jvay into his breeches' pockets, and his
fustian jacket buttoned well up under his
chin, jogging merrily along to his daily
labor, singing or whistling as he goes,
whilst his jolly red face, scarcely perceiv-
able on account of the dense fog, appears
'ike *'the sun dimly seen through a mist."
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' gitlin amang t'
Rye." This is contradicted. The lad
who is " mucking the byre," and who is
obliged to issue out at the door every mi-
nute to throw the dirt from his " muck-
fork"on to " t*middin"(dunghill) grumbles
and says, " she wad'nt say sae, if she hed
his wark to do ;" and she of course, frcm
some old grudge she has against him, is
greatly pleased at his mortification.
* Brev'stcr'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 boi-ling," 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 men,
not having been able to leave work in the
day time, think it a fine opportunity to
enjoy their favorite amusement of "tshure-
lin."
On stepping into the " laith " (barn)
we may there see two stout hearty
fellows opposite to each other, alter-
nately belaboring the 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 daughter*
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 Christmas 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 for
those who are married, and the other " t'
young foaks neet," for those who are
single. Suppose you and I, Sir, take the
liberty of attending one of these feasts
unasked (which by the bye is considered
no liberty at all in Cumberland) and see
what is going on. Upon entering the room
we behold several card parties, some at
" whist," others at " loo" (there called
•*lant"), or any other game that may suit
their fancy. You will be surprised on
looking over the company to find thi
there is no distinction of persons. Ma»>
747
THE YEAK BOOK.— DECEMBER 26.
ters and servants, rich and poor, humble
and lofty, qU mingle together without re-
straint — all cares are forgotten — and each
one seems to glory in his own enjoyment
and in that of his fe.iow-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 eye^
towards the side board, and theiesee that
large bowl of punch, which the goodwife
is inviting her gue§ts 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 t'le
card room, sit there for two or three hours
longer, and afterwards make tlie 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 never
happens.
Such are the innocent amusements 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. K
There is a ])leasant little two-shilling
volume, entitled " Christmas and the New
Vear ; a masque for the fire side ; by
Edwin Lees ; second edition, " printed at
Worcester. It contains the following —
Signs of Chiustmas.
When on the barn's thatch'd roof is seen
The moss in tufts of liveliest groen ;
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
We tp.ek for Flora's lovely train ;
\Vhcn the swcrt 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 plovgh.
And brings the misletoe's green bough,
With milk-white berries spotted o'er.
And shakes it the 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.
h. m.
December 24. — Day breaks . 6 1
Sun rises ..87
— sets ... 3 53
Twilight ends . 5 59
Btctmttv 25.
Christmas Day.
To the large accounts in the Evert/-
Day Book concerning the modes of cele-
arating this festival very little can be
added.
25th December, 1676, Sir Matthew
Ilale died. He was born at Olderlay,
in Gloucestershire, the first of November,
1609. On enterin<]c 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 the
time. On the 8lh of November, 1629,
he was admitted a student at Lincoln's
Inn, and, by indefatigable industry and
attention, he attained the highest honour?
ef the profession.
748
THE YEAE BOOK.— DECEMBER 25.
Sir Matthew Hale was a judge of
great ability and iiiflexiblt^ integrity.
Two soldiers were tried before him for
murderunderthe follow. .ig 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
arms, 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
they set off in search of the man, for the
purpose of revenge. They found and
attacked him ; and, whilst one of the
soldiers was struggling to get possession
of the arms, the other went behind tlie
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 defeated.
Hale's Rules.
Sir Matthew Hale, upon his becommg
judge, prescribed to himself the following
rules, which Bishop Burnet copied from
his holograph, viz.
Things necessary to be had continually m
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-
'utely.
3rdly. That I rest not on my own under-
standing and strength, but implore and
rest upon the directoin and strength of
God.
4Lhly. That in the execution of justice I
carefully lay aside my own passions,
and not give way to them however pro-
voked,
5thly. That I be wholly intent upon the
business I am about, remitting all
other cares and thoughts 35 unseason-
aole interruptions.
6thly. That I suffer not myself to be pre-
possessed with any judgment at all,
till the whole business and both parties
be heard.
7ihly. That I never engage myself at the
beginning of any one cause, but reserve
myself unprejudiced, till the whole
be heard.
8thly. That in business capital, though
my nature prompt me to pity, yet to
consider that there is also a pity due
to my country.
Qlhly. 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.
1 Ithly. That popular or court applause,
or distaste, have no influence in any
thing I do in point of distribution of
justice.
12thly. 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.
nthly. To charge my servants, 1, not to
interpose in any business whatsoever;
2, not to take more than their knowr>
fees; 3, not to give any undue prece-
dence to causes; 4, not to recommend
counsel.
18thly. To be short and sparing at meals,
that I may be the fitter for business.
In Swan's Journal 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 une, 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
749
THE YEAR BOOK.- DECEMBER 26.
upon an embroidered cushion, which
rested upon another of pink satin; tliis
M.1S snjiposed 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 staflT. 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."
At Rouen, after the Te Deum, in the
nocturnal office or vigil of Christmas, the
ecclesiastics colebrated 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
^'gloria in excelsis.*' The shepherds, hear-
ing this, advanced to the stable, sinking
^^ peace., good will" ^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.*
In catholic times, at Christmas, people
presented loaves to the priest on 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 iionour of the celebration of the boar's head,
AT queen's college, OXFORD.
** Tam Marti quam Mcrrurio."
I sing not of Roman or Grecian mad gaines,
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 swine
* 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.
750
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 25.
Stout Hercules labor'd, and look'd roighty hig,
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.
Derry 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 ramm'd in a volume, and cried — Gracurn 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
Thart logic's the bulwark of body and mind.
Derry down, &(
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.
[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 gentlemen
presently repaired into the hall and break-
fasted 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 minstralsye.* 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 GrtBcum est, fairly
choking the savage with the sage.f
While king Richard I. lay before Acre,
he was attacked by an ague so grievous
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
Book, but it could hardly have been omitted
here without the narration appearing incom-
jlcte. J. F. R.
t Wade's Walks m 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 powdecr and with spicery,
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 bscame 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 fearful battle-axe
Saladin retreated with loss, and the king
returned triumphantly to his camp, and
when he had rested awhile, he craved his
*' sou pere " 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 let him see ;
He fell on knees, and made a cry,
" Lo here the head ! my lord, mercy V*
761
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 25.
The twarte vis • when the king Bceth
His black bcurd, and white teeth.
How his lippcs grinned widc,t
*' What devil is this V The king cried,
And gan to laugh as he were wode.
" What I is Saracen's flesh thus good 1
That, never erst, I nought wist !
By Codes 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 rostcm, and do hem bake,
Gnawen her flesh to the bones !
Now I have it proved once.
For hunger ere I be wo.
I aud my folk shall eat mu !"
This " rijrht pleasaimt history" may l)e
found at full in " Webers's Metrical Ilo-
mances, vol. ii. p. 119. and abridged in
Kllis's Specimens of early English Ro-
mances, vol. ii. p. 233;" the which books
be cliiefflv read by antiquaries and poets.
J. F. R.
• Black face,
t See the comic picture of a boart-fiead in
the Every- Day Boob.
Mr. Ritson, in his Observations on Warton*s History of English Poetry, give
ine following from a MS.
indent l^oat*0 fiean (!raroI.
In die natiuitat.
Nowell, 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, &c.
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, &c.
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
to 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 ti)e whole air."
There belonged to the office of the
constable marshal a suit of gilt armour
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 Teusdav following.
752
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 25.
JACKLIN— SHAVEE AND POET, CAMBRIDGE
Cambridge Barbers.
[For the Year Book.]
John Jacklin was " well liking, «nd
well known to Ahna Mater as a shaver,
8 poet, and an " odd fellow." Good
humor hung pendant on the very tip of
his tongue, and a thousand funny sen-
tencses poured from his lips j were your
mmd as gloomy as Spenser's Cave of
Despair, his look had the power to banish
all. He ])resided, 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— nart of Sixteen *'
Vol. IV
753
3 C
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEM.BEK 25.
He died December 25, 1825, aged seventy
four, ** respected, and lamenieb dy all
who knew him." After his decease, the
following biographic or cmeouysti'i found
folded in an olp sons: book, »"'>is comb-
dnwer, and many of hisquonda m friends
hope it mayobtain a pi ace in the Year
Book,
[Copy.]
**T0 HIM to whom these presentg
shall come Greeting. KNOW YE that
JouN Jacklin, alias Tue Major, though
no pugilist, had every day a brush and
$et-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 hairs 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
mep, he was always acknowledged as
" The Major.
*' 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 I 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 *mongst 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 !
The Major never was The Minor !
A better creature never was, I'll bet a wager
(Although I say it) than was
•' Camb. 1824." The Major."
Another Barber — Robert Forster, 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 lij^ht honor whicli 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,
ue never wore one afterwards. The etch-
ings are become scarce, or one would have
accompanied the likeness of " The Major."
Nemo.
Puff! Puff 11 Puff 111
[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 theperformance
of heroic achievements in the art of war
are tl>e 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 Patriae is the noblest impulse of
our nature, and, in this happy land of Ol^
England, the highest honors a belove^
monarch can bestow 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,
GiLLlNGWATER,
THE
Inimitable Hair Cutter,
AND
Patent Perruquier,
85,
Long Lane, Smitufield. .
Who, by a taot peculiarly his own, has
754
THE YEAK BOOK.— DECEMBER 25.
introduced 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 knowledi^e 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-quarters in Long-lane^
like the mighty CiESAR, conscious of his
conquering powers, he exclaimed " Ven^i-
ViDi, Vici, " and he soon illustrated
the memorable expression, and such is
his influence, that the Minor Stars, witli
which his neighbourhord is infested, are
hiding their diminished heads. Like the
admirable Crightok, 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 is 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 tlian
falsely profess knowledge.— It is no shame
not to know aU things, but it is a just
fchame to over-reach in any thing. Bo
Christmas Wolves.
Olaus Magnus, who wu-» 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 hur* from them than
ever they do from true natural wolves,
for these humf.n 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 sei
Jime, these unnatural wolves come to,
and exercise their agility in trying to leap
c v^r ; and they that cannot leap over this
wail, 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 further related
by the archbishop Olaus, that a certain
nobleman, while on a journey through
the woods, was benighted and hungry ;
and it so fell out that among his servants
were some who had this faculty of becom-
ing wolves; one of these proposed thai
the rest should be quiet, while he with-
drew, and that they shotfld not be sur-
prised to tumult by any thing they saw
in his absence ; and, so saying, he went
into a thick wood, and there priviiy he
transformed himself, and came out as a
765
TUE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 2G.
wolf, and fell fiercely on a flock of sheep,
»nd caught one of ihem, and brought if
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 is the nobleman's
servant; anu so, of his skill, this lord
and the rest had a supper, for they roasted
the sheep.
Also, saith the archbishop, not many
yeais since, it fell out in Livonia that a
nobleman's wife disputed with one of
her servants, whether men could turn
themselves nito 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 gire 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.*
Tlie 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 a 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 bom in Decem-
ber."
December 25.— Day breaks
h. m.
. 6 1
Sun rises
. 8 7
— sets . .
Twilight ends
. 3 53
. 5 59
mectntbev 2fi.
St, Stephen's Day
The day after Christmas day is always
observed as " boxing day," in places
whare still lingers the decaying custom of
soliciting gifts under the denomination
Christmas Boxes.
Gladly, the boy, with Christmas box in Jiand,
Throughout 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 ihe debtor feels.
When, from the bailiff's rude, uncivil gripe
His friends redeem him, and with pity fraugh.
The claims of all his creditors discharge.
R. J. Thorn.
♦ OIsus Magnus, Hist, of tie Goths, b.
xviii. c. rraa
[For the Year Book.^
In the hall of the Inner Temple, on St
Stephen's day, after the first course wa*
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 of
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 fethers
" with a like pole ax in his hand," and
with them sixteen trumpeters, four drums
and fiffes going in rank before them, and
attended by four men in white " barneys"
from the middle upwards, and halberds in
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 coming was to be admitted
into his lordship's service, to which the
chancellor answered that he would " take
farther advice therein.''
Then the constable marshal standing ;
up, in submissive manner, delivered his J
naked sword to the steward, who pre- i
sented it to the chancellor, who thereupon f
" willed" the marshal to place the con-
stable marshal in his seat, with the lieu- i
tenant also in his seat. During thi^
cfemony " the tower " was placed " bc-
756
THE YEAR BOOK.-DECEMBEK 20.
»)eath the fire." Next entered the master
of the game apparelled in green velvet,
and the ranger of the forest in a green
suit of satten, 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
huntsnian 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,
1621, printed from an old copy," are the
following lines, seemingly referring to
some such pageant : —
Tlie hunter is Christ that hunts in haist
The hunds arc Peter and Pawle,
The paip is the fox, Rome is the Rox
That rubbis us on the 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 having 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 king's sergeant at law, which heard,
— the " ancientest of the masters of the
revels" sang merrily with the assistance of
Ochers there present.
Only fancy the " ancientest of the mas-
ters of the revels " chanting such stanzas
as the following, — ■
** Bring hither the bowlc
The brimming brown bowie.
And quaff the rich juice right raerrilie ,
Let tlie wine cup go round
Till the solid ground
Shall quake at the noise of our revelrie.
• Pursenet, ,-. net of which the mouth is
drawn together bv a string Johnson.
Let wassail and wine
Their pleasures combine.
While wequafiFthe rich juice rigat ECfctrilic ;
Let us drink till we die.
When the saints we relie
Will mingle their songs with onr revelrie."
Aftei 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 Flatterery of Fowleshurst,
in the county of Buckingham."
" Sir Randle Buckubitey of Rascal 1
Hall, in the county of Rabchell."
"St'r Morgan Mumchance^ of Much
Monkery, in the county of Mad Popery,"
(and others.) This done, the lord of
misrule " addressed" himself to the ban-
quet, 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 (upon 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 effi-
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.
Hod, or Nob?
Grose mentions the question, " Will
you hob, or nob, wiUi rae ?" as signifying
757
THE YEAR BOOK.-DECEMBER 2:
* ft Tequest or challenge to drink a glass of
wine wiih Ihe proposer ; if the party chal-
len?ed 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, nub, is his word ; giv't or
UkV Mr. Monck Mason, in a note on
this passage, asks, " Is not this the on.
ginal of our hub-nob, or challenge to
drink a glass of wine at dinner ?" Mr.
Brand observes, "In Anglo-Saxon, hab-
ban is to have, and nacbban 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-
qufst or challenge.
Buz.
This term signifies a cPdllenge to a
person to pour out all the wine in the
Dottle into 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 out. We
are told of it as being a college expression ;
intimating a threat, in the way of plea-
santry, to black the person's face with a
burnt cork, should he flinch or fail to
empty the bottle. Possibly it may have
been derived from the German " buzzen,"
iordes anferre, q. d. " Off" with the Lees
at bottom."*
h. m.
6
8 7
3 53
6
Deuniber 26. — Day breaks
Sun rises
— sets . .
Twilight ends
Btccmhev 27.
St. John.
There is suflUcient respecting this fes-
lival in the Ever i/- Dai/ Book.
If the reader have a dread of poisoning,
and faith in preservatives, the Every-Day
Book, on St. John'" Day will supply a
lecipe for marvellous wine-manchets.
* Brand.
Under the Hose.
This saying is stated to have tiken 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, Appetilus 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 mc,
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
counter-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 ;
meaDingthat, as it concerned the faction,
it was religiously to be kept secret."
Upon Warburton's supposition, Mr. Up-
ton, anotlier 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
Harpocrates, 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
suae rosara dedit in munus, ut scilicet si
quid licentius dictum, vel actum sit in
convivio, sciant lacenda esse omnia.
Atque idcirco veteres ad finem convivii
sub rosa, Anglicfe under the rose, transacta
esse omnia ante digressum contestabantur ;
cujus formae vis eadem esset, atque ista
MKTwiivdnova ffvftTTOTav. Probant banc
rem versus qui reperiuntur in marmore :
Est rosa flos Veneris, cujus quo furta laterent
Harpocrati matris dona dicavit amor.
Inde rosam mcnsis hospes suspendit amicis,
Convivae ut sub ea dicta tacenda sciat."
Newton^ ir. hit « Herball to the Bible,**
758
THE YEAR BU OK— DECEMBER 27.
: 537, says : " I will heere adde a com-
mon countrey cuslome that is used to be
done with tlie Rose. When pleasaunt
and merry companions doe friendly meete
together to make goode cheere, as scone
as their feast or banket is ended, they give
faithfull 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 the
rose. Whereupon they use in their par-
lors and dining rooms to hang roses over
their tables, \o put the companie in
memorie of secrecic, 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 our Times, 1638," mentions
this saying, and the convenient practice
" in many places, as well in England as
in the Low Countries," ofpaintmga rose.
He deduces the origin of the saying from
the authority cited by Upton in his stric-
ture on Warburtoa *
Divination
Divination is the obtaining of the
knowledge of something future, by som^e
endeavour or means designedly made use
of for that end.
Gaule, in his Mag-astro-mancer posed
and puzzel'd, p. 165, enumerates as fol-
lows the several species of divination : —
Stareomancy, or divining by the ele-
ments.
4eronmncj/, or divining by the air.
Pyromancy, by fire.
Hydromancy, by water.
Geomancyy by earth.
Theomancyj pretending to divine by
the revelation of the Spirit, and by the
Scriptures, or Word of God.
Damonomancy, by the suggestions of
evil diemons, or devils.
Idolomancy, by idols, images, figures.
Psychomancy, by men's souls, affections,
vvills, religious or moral dispositions.
Antinopomancy, by the entrails of men,
women, and children
Theriomancy, by beasts.
Ornithomancy, by birds.
Ichtftyo/nancy, by fishes ;
Botanomancy, by herbs.
• Brand.
Lithomancyf by stones.
Vleromancy , by lots.
Oniromancy, by dreams.
Onomatomancy, by names.
Arithmancy, by numbers.
Logurithmancy, by Logarithms.
Sternomancy, from the breast to the
belly.
Gustromancyy by the sound of, or signs
upon the belly.
Omphelomuncy, by the nave!.
Chiromancyy by the hands.
Padomancy, by the feet.
Onychomancyy by the nayles.
Cephuleonomuncy, by bray ling of an
asses head.
Tuphramancy^ by ashes.
Capnomancyy by smoak.
Livanomancy, by burning of frankin
cence.
Carromancy, by melting of wax.
Lecanomancy, by a basin of water.
Catoxtiomancy, by looking glasses.
Chartoniancy, by wiiting in papers; at
in choosing valentines, &c.
Macharomancy, by knives or swords
C/irystallomancy, by glasses.
Dactylomancyy by rings.
Coseinomancy, by sieves.
Axinomuncyy by saws.
Cattaboniancy, by vessels of brass (It
other metal.
Roadomuncy, by stars.
Spatalamancyy by skins, bones, See.
Sciomancyy by shadows.
Astragalomancy, by dice.
Olnomancy, by wine.
Sycomancy, by figs.
Typotnancy, by the coagulation oc
cheese.
Alphltomancy, by meal, flour, or bran.
Crifhomancy, by grain or corn.
Alectroinancy, by cocks and hens.
Gyromancy, by rounds or circles.
Lampadomancy, by candles and lamps.
Nagomuncy, 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 o»
divining by coffee-grounds; she was then
759
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27.
in full infpiration, 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 to be given of their future
nite. 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 com?; and
every transaction and circumstance is de-
lineated wiih the exactesl 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 he. She says, " I have seen
him several times in coflee-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 Ilarvey, 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 churcli-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 " F.ioricii Bibliogra-
phia Antiquaria." See also Potter's
Grecian Antiquitiej.
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 some by another.
Chiromancy — Divination by Pal-
mistry.
According to Indagine's " Book of
Palmestry and Physiognomy, translated
by Fabian Withers," 8vo. 1656, the lines
iij the palm of the hand are distinguished
by formal names, such as the table line,
or line of fortune, the line of life or cf
the heart, the middle natural line, the line
of the liver or stomach, &c. &c. &c., the
triangle, the quaorangle. 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 puzrled," 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 thp ring-finger are made of a happy wit.
Cornelius Agrippa, in his Vanity of
Sciences, says that chiromancy "fancies
seven mountains in the palm of a m^n's
hand, according to the number of 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 so
called, but observes that "none of them
have been able to make any further pro-
gress than conjecture, and observation of
experience. Now that there is no cer-
tainty in these conjectures and 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
much differ."
Dr. Ferrand, in his Love's Melancholy,
1640, tells us that "no man professelh
publickely this cheating art, but theeves,
rogues, and beggarly rascals ; which are
now every where knowne by the name o
Bohemians, Egyptians, and Caramaras."
It may be well to observe the date of
this reprobation of fortune-telling by the
hand. — We have still fortune-tellers a
this class
760
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27.
MINSTER CHURCH, ISLE OP THANET, KENT.
Minstei, about two mi^es distant from
Ramsgate, derives importance 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\alls in good preservation. At the
west end is a handsome tower and leaded
steeple, with a clock and five bells. On
the top of the spire was formerly a globe,
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 Cidled " Bl ae
Dick, fixed ladders, before day, by mooTr-
light, and hired two men of the parish to
go up and demolish the ball and crosses
as " monuments of idolatry."
Dr. Merle Casaubon became vicar of
this parish in 1634, and held the vicarage
until it was sequestered by the parliament
in 1644, when Richard Culmer "'as ap-
pointed in his stead.
Ebbs Fleet, in this parish, spems to have
been the usual landing-place from the
sea upon the isle of Thanet. At this
spot the two Saxon chiefs, Ilengist 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 th»
second abbess of Minster.
761
THE YEAR BOOK. -DECEMBER 27.
Old War-sign.
Upon tlte authority of certain state-
ments in the *' Clainbrian Antiquities,"
it is supposed tliat war was anciently
proclaimed in Britain by sending messen-
gers in different directions tlirough the
land, each bearing a bent bow, and thai
peace was in alike manner announced by
a bow unstrung, and theiefoie strxight.
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,
A» tlic land rose up at the sign of war.
* Heard ye not the battle horn ?
— Reaper I leave thy golden corn !
..-^ave it for the birds of Heaven,
Swords must flash, and shields be riven I
Leave it for the winds to shed —
Arnr. ! ere Britain's turf grow red ! '*
And the reaper arm'd, like a freeman's son,
Aud tlie bended bow and the voice pass'd o;
" Hunter ! leave the mountain chase^
Take the falchion from its place I
Let the wolf go free to-day,
Leave him for a nobler prey !
Let the deei ungall'd sweep by —
Arm thee ! Britain's fees are nigh I '*
And the hunter arm'd ere his chase was doo«
And the bended bow and tK-» '"-ice 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 I Britain's foes must fall. "
And the chieftain ann'd, and the horn was Moat.,
And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on.
** Prince ! 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 1
— Foes are on thy native sea —
Give our bards a tale of thee ! "
And the prince came arm'd, like a leader's sou.
And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on.
« Mother ! stay thou not thy boy !
He must learn the battle's joy.
Sister 1 bring the sword and spear,
Give thy brother words of cheer !
Maiden ! bid thy lover part,
Britain calls the strong in heart ! "
And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on.
And the bards made song for a battle won I
762
THE YEAK BOOK.— DECEMBER 27.
Single-stick and Cudgels.
[To Mr. Hone.]
I do not observe that you notice tiie
yearly village 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 have one day of mirth in the
year, have some time in the summer
what are called feasts; when they are
generally visited by their friends, whom
they 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
lighters have done, they both aim at the
crown.
In cudgelling, as the name implies, the
weapon is a stout cudgel ; and the playc
defends himself with another having a
farge hemisphere of wicker-work upon it.
This is called the/jof, 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-stick player quarrel
with a Devonshire 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 auwcc/s 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 v/eight if a man cast
him to deceive the people and for to be
fabe."
Handsell to me certainly appears to be
a corruption of Juncel, and the spitting
on the first conceived good 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. Phcenix.
6th August, 1831.
Liverpool.
Fairies.
There are some very pretty notions la
verse on the love of order and cleanlinesi
among the " Good People," of our ol:
763
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27.
popula. Mylhology. They were famous
riuUpir.chers ; and celebrated, withal, for
drwsioR themselves gallantly.
M Ah, The Fairy Queen, condescends to
her subjects in a ditty entitled with her
own name, wherein she says.
When morUls are at rest
And snoring in their nest, ^
Unheard, and unespicd.
Through key-holei we do glide
Over tablci, atoolt, and shelves.
We trip it with our fairy elves.
And, if th«5 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
Fairies Farewell."
Farewell Rewards and Fairies !
Good housewives now may say :
For now foul sluts in dairies
Do faro 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 " Good 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
I'o pinch such black and blue.
O ! how the commonwealth doth need
Such justices as you !
To the same effect, Herrick, who wrote
the glorious poem, " Corinna going a
Maying," gives goodly ''ounsel and caution
to household maids,
If ye will with Mab find grace.
Set each platter in his place ;
Rake the fire up, and get
Water in, ere sun be set.
Wash your pails, and cleanse your dairies.
Sluts are loathsome tu the fairies :
Sweep your house : who doth nut so,
Mab will pinch her by the toe.
The st^to dresses of their high ard
mighty little Majesties are always de-
scribed as suitable to their quality. Two
pieces on this stibject from The llhupiodyy
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 ParnassiiSy' is on
The Kinq.
Upon a time the Fairy elves.
Having newly dress'd themselves.
Thought it meet to clothe their king
In robes most fit for revelling.
They wrought a cobweb shirt more thin
Than ever spiders since could spin ;
And bleach'd it in the whitest snow
When the northern winds do blow.
A rich waititcoat they did bring
Fcm'd of the trout fly's golden wing ;
Dyed crimson in a maiden's blush.
And lined with humming bees* soft pltwh.
His hosen and his cassock were
Wove of the silken gossamer ;
And down the scams, with careful pace.
An unctuous snail drew curious lace.
Jlis 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 en'''^
the entertainment somewhai abruptly
Th€ 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 sun
And twisted into line.
They on the Wheel of Fortune sputt
Her body-linen fine.
Thf-y made her gown of morning dawn
When Phoebus did but peep.
As by a poet's pencil drawn,
In Chloris' lap asleep.
Its colotir 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 atoms, set
In the pure black of Beauty's eye.
As they had been in jet.
Her shoes were lover's hopes abed.
So passing thia and light,
That all her care was how to tread ;
A thought would burst them quite.
7ii4:
THE YEAR BOOK.-DECEMBEIi 27.
The revels ended, she put off" ;
Wprav.3e her grace was warm.
She fann*d her with a lady's scofF,
And so she took no harm.
Well Fairies
Hutchinson, in his History of Cumber-
land, speaking 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 with great care. In the garden,
near 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
recover it; but, after an ineffectual strug-
gle, flew away, 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 remarkable
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."
Fairy Saddle.
Waldron, in his Description of the
Isle of Man, tells us that there is in 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 night
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, 8cc.
In a curious and rare book entitled
" Paradoxical Assertions, &c., by R. H."
1664, we read, that Engliilimen " 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'* 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 zt 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 ; 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 ago, 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
chines 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-
765
THE YEAB BOOK,-DECEMBER 27.
berate iheir cries. About fifty years ago^
a clergyman in the neighbourhood, whose
fHith xvo, more regulated by the scepti-
cism of Philosophy than the credulity of
Superstition, could not be prevailed upon
to yield his assent to the oP">»on of ^"e
times. At length, however, he felt from
eiperience, that he doubted what he
ought to have believed. One night as he
>vas returning home, at a late \^o\ir, from
a presbytery, he was seized by the fairies,
a.m carried aloft into the air. Through
fields of spther and fleecy-douds he
journeyed many a mile, descrying, like
Sancho Panza on his Clavileno, the earth
far .listant below him, and no bigger than
a riut-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 to exist
in the woods and setjuestered 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-
(onceived ideas every appearance and
every sound, the wandering enthusiast is
frequently entertained by their music,
more melodious 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,'
1G32, says,
Bnt 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.
Bcownies, 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 hosv the drudging goldin swct,
To cam his cream-bowl duly set.
When in one iiiglit, ere glimpse of morn.
His shadowy flalo hath tliresh'd the corn
That ten day-lab'rcrs could not end ;
Then lays him down the lubbar-fiend.
And stretch'd out all the chimney's lengthy
Basks at the fire his hairy ttrength«
And, crop-full, out of doors he flings.
Ere the first cock his matin rings,
Martin, in his description 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 th'? 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\
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 DaEmonology,says :
" Brownie appeared like a rough man,
and haunted divers houses without doing
any evill, but doing, as it were, necessaric
turnes up and downe the house; ye'
some were so blinded as to beleeve tha>
their house was all the sonsier, as they
called it, that such spirits resorted there."
Dr. Johnson in his Journey to the
Western Islands, obasrves, " Browny was
a sturdy fairy, who, if he was fed, and
kindly treated, would, as they say, do a
great deal of wrrk. They now pay him
766
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27.
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.
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 species, 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 his correspondence with Mr.
Baxter, as little statured, and about half
a yard long : he adds, " at this very in-
stant there are miners on a discovery of
a vein of metal, and two of them are
ready to make oath they have heard these
knocVer« in the day-time."
f AiRi Si:kness.
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 in the
«i;dx) : and, if befalls sick within two or
three days after, a woman skilled in those
matters is sent to the spot, and there
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 svck
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 disordex than most phy-
sicians."
Elf Shots.
Fairies were thought to shoot cattle wim
arrows headed with flint-stones, which
were often found and called elf-shots.
Collins, in the Ode on the Popular
Superstitions of the Highlands, says;
There, ev'ry herd by sad experience knows
How, wing'd with fate, their elf-shot arrows
When the sick 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 ali-Eiones like a thin
triangular flint, not iia'if an inch in dia-
meter, with which they suppose the fairie.^
destroy their cows. And when thesf
animals are seized with a certain disorder,
to which they are very incident, they say
they are elf-shot."
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 be 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, before
iron was known.*
Fairy Rikgs.
Fairies were thought to have their
haunts in groves or on raountains,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 timx; afterwards, and
are called " Fairy Rings," or circles.
Moses Pitt, in a scarce tract, relates
• Brand.
767
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27.
thai hi« female servant, '* Anne Jeffenes
(for that was hvr maiden name) was born
in the parish of St. Teath, in the county
of Cornwoll, in December, 1626, and is
fttill IiviVt 1696, aged 70. She is mar-
ried to one William Warren, formerly
hind to the late emmenl physician, Dr.
Jtichard 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 clothed 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 eiglit, 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, 1 myself being then at
table. One day she gave me a piece of
her (fairy) bread, which I did eat, and
think it was the most delicious bread
that ever I did eat, 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. 1 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 whisiling wind.
ilidt. N. Dream. Act. ii. stt:. 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-
Kpeare's Tempest, act v. sc. 1.
" Ye elves —
Drayton, speaking of the fairies, says-^
They in their courses make tliat ro\ind
In meadows and in marshes found
Of them so called the fairy grounvl,
According to Olaus Magnus, this cause
of the circles in the grass called fairy
rings was a general belief with tiie
northen nations : many of our own poets
allude to these fairy rings, and adopt the
prevailing persuasion
Browne, in his Britannia's Pastorals,
describes
a pleasant mead.
Where fairies often did their measures tread,
Which in the meadows made such circles green
As 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 our
Coal Fire," treating of fairies, says,** they
had fine music always among themselves,
and danced in a moon -shiny night, around
or in a ring, as one may see at tliis day
upon every common in England where
mushroomes grow."
One of the " Six Pastorals" by George
Smith, the painter of Chicester, refers to
the popular belief.
Some say the schreech-owl, at each niidnigh:
hour.
Awakes the fairies in yon antient tow'r.
Their nightly-dancing ring 1 always dread,
Nor let my sheep within that circle tread ;
Where rotmd and round all night, in moou •
light fair.
They dance to some strange 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.
■you demy puppets that
By moon-shine do the green-sour ringlets males
hereof the ewe not bites."
The most clear and satisfactory re-
marks on the origin of fairy rings are
probably those of Dr. Wollaston, 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. '
768
THE YEAE BOOK.— DECEMBEK 27.
STOURBRIDGE-FAIR BOOTH.
The precacling engraving is a sectional
▼lew of the usual interior of the booths
occupied by dealers attending Stourbridge
fair. The front of the booth is under the
colonnade, which, here, is represented at
the side, for the purpose of showing the
arrangement within-side. Passengers
walked under this colonnade and entered
the booth by the front door, between the
windows, where they found a shop about
thirty feet by eighteen, with well stored
shelves, and counters for serving the cus-
tomers. A dcor 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 su"«bine and r>'n.
During the equinoxial pales, 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 Bookt
i. 1300—1305. An officer of the fair,
called the " Lord of the Tap," is men
tioned in the same volume, 1487. Tlie
interesting letter on the next page com-
pletes that account. It was sent by the
venerable contributor too late for irser
tion in the Every-Day Book.
Voi. IV.
769
3 D
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27.
STOURBRIDGE FAIR.
[To Mr. Ilune.]
Sir,
I am a septuagenarian, and the following?
are my personal recollections of more
than sixty years ago, concerning the once
?ast 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 bcoths 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 thouglits. The first
booths (C in the plan) on the north side
of the road, were occupied by the cus-
tomary shows of wild bcaSts and wild
men, conjuriors, tumblers, and rope-
dancers. Mr. 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 wii
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,
under the management of Mr. Bailey,
formerly 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
up and down the fair, bawling every
moment in your ear — " Twenty a penny
walnuts ! 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 ihe
London market were bought by the fac-
tors from thence, and cheese fromCheshirs,
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 tlie 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-tilts, 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 Gat '.s^-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. Greer, from
Limehouse, kept a most important store
here : his returns were from £l500 to
£2000 during the fair ; and my father, who
kept the fair forty years and upwards,
usually brought home £l 000, or more for
goods sold and paid for, besides selling
to half that amount on credit to reputable
dealers and farmers. At the end ot the
770
THE YEAR BOOK.-DECEMBER 27.
Way^an Clotfi
find Sacking
r 1 Jfood
0:0
C ^ C C r1 , 1
-•—»— •—!'-■_•—<--•— 1—1.^1 |-^t_:«— (_| 1.
IROMH) IPR-H M CA M lEKt l£>GE T§ JVIF] W,VIA Fl IK HDT,
Mil i'j. nn.
'^^'^^'^^^' MmcroJ^Mcc/A
PLAN OF STOURBRIDGE FAIR,
771
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 27.
row, close to the liiile inn (B), stood tfie
de«Ien in «las$-\vaie, looking-glasses, and
tmall articles of mahogany furniture.
Then the inn itself, the sign of which was,
I believe, the King's Arms, was the com-
men resort of the horse dealers. In this
house sal the Pied-poudre court, with
power to arbitrate disputes in dealing,
quel) riots, fine and otherwise punish
summarily, personsguilly of petty offences,
having a pair of stocks and a whipping
post in front, and a strong room under-
neath. Close adjoining northward was
the oyster fair. 'Ihe oysters brought from
Lynn were very hrge, about the size of a
horse's hoof, and were opened wiih pin-
cers ; the more delicate, from Colchester
and Whitstable, were very small. In tije
meadow adjoining were the coal fair,
pottery fair, and Staffordshire ware dealers
(W, W, W). The greater part of tiiese
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-
Talled, unless in Yorkshire. The finest
racers and hunters from Yorkshire, the
most bony and muscular drauglrt 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 neigiibouring
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 HatterVrow (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
tnilk 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 tackl 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 e\ening 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 askintr,
"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 I" 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. —
Chorui — With a hoccius proxius mandamus.
Let no vengeance light on him.
And so call upon him.
2.
This child was bom in the merry month oi
May,
Clap a pound of butter to Itis cheek, and it
will soon melt away,
And if he longs for a sop, let him have it J
pray—
Choru*—Ytora his hoccius, &c.
3.
This child's shoes are made of running leather.
He'll run from father and mother the deucr
knows whither.
And here he may run the length of his tether—
Chonu — To a hoccius, &c.
4.
This child now to Stirbitch fair is come.
He may wish to kis>« a pretty wench ere he
returns home.
But let him be advis'd and not to Barnwell
roam —
Chofiit — For a hoccius, &r
772
THE YEAR BOOK. -DECEMBER 27
At this part the officiator, wiih all due
gravity, turned round, and inquired. —
Q. "Who names this child?" R.
" We do." The sponsors then called
him '* Nimble heels," — "Stupid Stephen,"
— " Tommy Simper," or other ludicrous
nick-names. The oflBciator then drank,
and gave the novice a full bumper.
5.
'* Nimble-heels" henceforward shall be his
name.
Which to confess lei 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 ht
may clioosc' — •
Chorus — About a hoccius, &c.
A verse, which memory can afford to
forget, intervenes before the next.
8.
Then hand the can unto our jolly friar.
And laugh and sing as we sit round the fire.
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.
Over ihj head I ring this bell Andl know thee
Because thou art an infidel, &c.
smell
i
V^^'f-v-
With
hoc
cius prox
iuB
da
WjllJU ^' ^1 ' ^ TTTt^ l
Let no vengeance light on him And so call up on him
If more than one novice offered to the
ceremony, they were initiated together,
and tlie 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 substantial fair-
keeping fare ; such as roast goose, fowls,
pork, vegetables, fruit pies, and bread,
which altogethei 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 hali-hour,
giving notice of their approach by bawl-
ing out lustily—** Ixjok about you there!'
but they seldom detected, or disturbed,
any nefarious operations.
I will take up little more room than Ir
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 other 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), where it was again read; and then
the mayor. afighted with his principal of-
ficers, and entered the inn,where he opened
the court of pied poudre. Afterwards re-
773
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28.
turning to the centre of the fair, near the
oofTee-house (Q), proclamation was then
made, and sometimes the mayor alighted
and took refreshment More usually the
civic narty returned to Cambridge, where
a gooa corporation-dinner closed the cor-
porate labors of the day.
The principal London dealers, who at-
tended the fair, at the time I refer to,
which is more than sixty years ago, were
as follows : —
Mr. RoakCf ironmonger, from Wood
Street.
Air. Sinithf silversmith, from Cornhill,
Messrs. Cox and HenUy silk mercers,
from Ilolborn. 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.
3Ir. Smithj silk- mercer, from Fleet
Street.
Mr. Hewitt, toyman, from Smithfield.
Mr. Hux/neSf Norwich warehouse, from
Uolborn : his stock very large ; he has
sold on the first day of the fair 100 pieces
of Ilessens before breakfast.
Mr. Lacy, hosier, from Clements' Inn
passage, with a itock of £l500.
Mr. Timewell, milliner, from Tavistock
Street.
Mr. Laniff laceman, from the same
place.
Mr. Bolt, laceman, 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 Shored itch.
Mr. Wilson, fine 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 £lOOO to
£l 500, some of them more.
Mr. Monnery, leather seller 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-kne theatre, was
under his protection : the writer was
under the tuition of Mr.R.'s fathe^ who
kept a school at Wandsworth.
Many other traders of grea 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, Tunbrid^e-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 away within forty-eight hours aftei
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 boolli
round by the cheese fair, the wool fair,
and hop fair; then onwards to Iron-
mongers-row, to the horse fair; north-
ward on to the pottery fair, along the
margin of *ie 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 thjee miles.
I am, &c.
2HNYA.
Alias, Nimble Heels,
The name given me at Stour-
bridge fair sixty-five years ago.
Somers Town,
13th Sept. 1827.
Betttnbtv 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-
ncmede 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
774
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER
London, where he reviewed, wrote ser-
mons and lectures on Roman history, and
minor poems, and perished not of penury
but of a broken heart.*
lluuAL Charms.
Sir Thomas Brown, in his " Q lincunx
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 middle
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 Derrick's Hesperides,
1
This I'lo tell ye by the way.
Maidens v?hen ye leavens lay.
Cross your dow and your dispatch
Will be better for your batch.
2
In the morning when ye rise.
Wash your hands and cleanse your eyes.
Next be sure ye have a care
'I'o disperse the watei farre
For as farre as that doth light,
So farre keeps the evil ■prighU
3
If ye fear to be affrighted.
When ye arc (by chance) benighted :
In your pocket for a trust
Carry 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. 15C2.
Idolatry says :
With blessynges of Saynt Germayne
I will me so determyne
That neyiJier fox nor vermyne
Shall do my chyckens harmc.
For your gesc s( ke saynt Legearde,
And for your duckes saynt Lconarde,
There is no better charine.
Take me a napkin folte
With the byai* of a bolte.
For the healing of a colte
No better thynge can be :
For lampes and for bottet
Take me saynt VVilfrid's knoftcs.
And holy saynt Thomas Lottos,
On my life I warrande ye.
• Calamities of Authors, 1. 210.
And good saynt Francis Gyrdle^
Wiih tlie hamlet of a hyrdle.
Are wholsorne for the pyppe :
Besydes these charmes afore
I have feates many more
That kepe still in store.
Whom now I over hyppe.
Ady, by his " Candle in tlie Dark,
1655," helps ds 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
whit 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 butler, come,
Come butter, come,
Peter stands at the gate.
Waiting for a butter'd cake.
Come butter, come.
This, said the old woman, being sair
three times, will make your butter come,
^->r it was taught my mother by a learned
church-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: or a new Cast or
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 than 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 tie smith is shooing of them,
therefore it is called of many, herba
clavorum, the herb oi nails."
Coles, in his Art tf Simpling, says :
" If a footman take rr ii£:wort and put intc
his shoes in the morning, he may goe
776
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28.
forty iniies before noon, and not be
weary.** He further instances the potency
of many herbs as charnis.
The wnrae author, in his Adam in Eden,
tells us: '* It is said, yea, and believed
by many, that moonvoort 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 himselfe, as
may appear by his story of the earle of
Essex his horse;!, which, being drawn up
in a body, many of them lost their shoos
upon White Downe, in Devonshire, neer
Tivrton, because moonwort grows upon
h«» oas."
lue 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
iiy 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 :
— Reach the bays :
I'll tie a garland here about his head.
Twin 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 from some old English poet, in
Bodenham's *' Belvedere, or the Garden
of the Muses," 8vo. 1600, we read :
At thunder nor fierce lightning harmea 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
th« memory of that poet, in allusion to
the superstitious idea of laurel being ai
defensative against thunder :
I sec that wreath, which doth the wearer
srmo
'Gainst the quick stroaKes of thunder, is no
charme
To kecpc 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,
^r thee this subject of our sorrow made.
So, also, Leigh, in his observations on
the first twelve Caesars, 8vo. 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 with 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, a scales 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 Arnol'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 tlie 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 : " la
776
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28.
private breweries, lo prevent the interfe-
rence of the fairies, a live coal is thrown
into the vat. A cow's milk no fary can
take away, if a burning coal is con lucted
across her back and under her bel'y im-
mediately after she has calved. The same
mischievous elves cannot enter into a
house at niglit, if, before bed-lime, 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 produce 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 butter,
is evidently discernible by a mark of se-
paration ; viz. the diversity of colors: that
which is charmed being paler than the
other. If lutter having these narks 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
his stone, that they swear decisive oaths
upon it."
Martin says it was an ancient custom
among tlie islanders to hang a iie-goat to
the boat's mast, hoping thereby to procure
favorable wind.
In speaking of lona, Martin says,
" There is a stone erected here, concerning
which the credulous natives say, that who-
tver reaches out his arm along the stone
t'.uee times in the name of the Father,
Son, and Holy Ghoit, 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, whicli, 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 h
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 S 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 peculiar privilege of
a family called Clan-Chattons, alias
Mack-Intosh."
Bi\>tvtiumenU
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 literary, as well as
musical ability. I believe the poem has
never been published.
Trenta.
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 cncs
Ascend the skies !
Or, if this monstrous height
You deem too hij^h a flight.
For human noise
To risn.
In strains a little lower.
Your 'amentaiions pouj !
777
Or
THE YEAK BOOK.— DECEISIBER 2b.
Let ihem, at Iratt, extend
To Koowle, or Orton end
Or if you think it meet,
To Shirlcy-flreet i
flowe'er might I *dvi»9.
Tune all your throat*
To huder notes ;
Each roaring voice
The other stun—
viouder ! louder ! louder t
Jutt like the noise
Of a great gun,
^ ^n charg'd with shot and powncK.
Air
I shall esteem yoo
Wretched trumpery
And surely deem yoa
A paltry company
t f poor faint-hearted toads.
And that your grief you sham j
Unless you retch
To the full stretchy
Till every sound
Floats in the air
Both far and near.
Around,
Or, through the roads
»lif the upper form," is said to "begin with
theft ; 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
oflen-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 tells us that in
Ireland they are called Tatnans. "I
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.
Sorcery — Witchcraft.
The 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 rotien 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 slie 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
P» sscss'd, ev'n in their death deluded, say
They have been wolves and dogs, and sail'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 tempts
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
he end of Glanvil's " Sadducismus Tri-
a.Tiphatus," we are told that the devil gives
781
THE YEAR BOOK— DECEMBER 28.
Uiem a beast about the bi;{ness and siiape
uf a young cat, which they call a carrier.
What this carrier brinps they must re-
ceive for the devil. Tliese carriers fill
themselves so full sometimes, that ihey are
forced to disgorge by the way, and tliese
leavings are sometimes found in gardens
where coleworts grow, and not far from
the houses of the witches. Il is of a
yellow color like pold, 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,
minister 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 of
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. 15r9l, 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 searcli, 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
})lace of assembly, where they have
eastings, music, and dancing, the devil
himself condescending to play at them on
the pipes or cittern. It was at a meeting
of this sort that Tam o' Shanler 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 meetmgs ; 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
bt>dies, 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 tnem ; and that he baptized waxen
im;tgos of such persons for the purpose of
occasioning ailments in them, or death.
Butler, in his Iludibras, has the fol-
lowing on the airy riding.
Or trip it o'er the water quicker
Than witches when their staves they liquor,
4 s 8ome report.
Reginald Scot says tfiat according to
the vulgar opinion of witches flying,
"The devil teaches them to make oint-
ment of the bowels and members cf
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 V»,
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, saffron, poplar-leaves, &c." There
had been about the time of lord Verulanr.
no small stir concerning witchcraft. Ben
Jonson, says Dr. Percy, has left us a
witch song, which contains an extract
from the various incantation? 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 together 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 : —
1 Witch. Here's the blood of a bat.
Hec, Put in that, oh put in that.
782
THE YEAE BOOK .—DECEMBER 28.
2 W. Here's Leopard's bane
Nee. Put in agaiae.
1 yV. The juice of toade, the oile of adder
2 yV. Those will make the yonker madder.
Hec. Put in : there's all, and rid the stench.
Firestone. Nay here's three ounces of the red-
hair'd wench.
All. Round, around, around, &c.
The sabbath of the witches is supposed
to be held on a Saturday : when the
devil is by some said to appear in the
shape of a goat, about whom several
dances and masfic ceremonies are per-
formed, and before 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 Daemonology, 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
Bolinbrook, 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
Jittle and little consumed: intending
thereby in conclusion to waste and
destroy the king's person. According to
Strype, Bishop Jewel, preaching before
the 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
fade'th, their flesh rotteth, their speech is
benumbed, their senses are bereft. I
pray God they never practice /wr^er than
upon the subject." "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
expressions 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 Qtieen's
attorney, and Egerton, her solicitor, by
Walsi ngham the secretary, and Sir Thomas
Ileneage her vice chamberlain, for their
judgment, whose opinion was that Mrs.
Dier was not within the compass of thft
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 ot
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
took 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 witchcraft. 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 enclianted 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
powerful an ascendancy over the queen,
she replied, * that ascendancy only which
strong minds ever gain over weak ones'."
Old Blagrave, in his Astrological Practice
of Physick, observes, " the way which the
witches usually take to afflict 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
afflicted. This practice is referred to by
poets, Daniel says, in one of his sonnets:
7t3
THE YEAK BOOK.— DECEMBER 28.
Thi» tile Inchmter, wken to work hit will
And Mcrrt wrong on »oine for«poken wight
Frame* w»«e. in forme to rcprftent aright
The poor unwitting wretch he meanet to kill.
And prickea the image, fram'd by magick'sskill.
Whereby to vex the partic day and night.
Cole, in his Art of Simplin^, says that
witches " take likewise the roots of man-
drake, arcordinij to some, or, as I rather
suppose, the roots of briony, which simple
foike take for the true mandrake, and
make thereof an ugly image, by which
they represent the person on whom they
intend to exercise their wiichcrafi.'*
Witches are said to sometimes content
themselves with a revenge less than mortal,
causing the objects of their hatred to
swallow pins, crooked nails, dirt, cinders,
and different 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 presumed 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 bev/itched, 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," >\ho 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-
steal mg, to which she was somewhat ad-
dicted.
Disenchantment of a Sorcerer.
As Gassendi was one day -taking a
morning's walk near Digne, in Provence
his ears were assailed by reoeated excla
mations of ** A sorcem., a sorcerer!"
On looki*§ Cfctjmd 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,
said to him in private, " My friend, you
must tell me sincerely whether you hare
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 ray friends has given me a drug
which 1 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 mtend to go there with you to-
night." The man replied, " As you
please, sir; I will take you at midnigiit
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 other,
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
and 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,
■ the eye works
Unto the timid thought, and the thought
paints
Forms from the mire of Consciesce, 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.
784
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28.
A PARISH TOBACCO-BOX.
** History is philosophy leaching by ex-
ample." — Mr. Churchwarden, and Mr.
Overseer, Gen llemen, Past Churchward-
ens, and Past Overseers' of ihe joint
parishes of St. Margaret and St. John the
Evangelist, Westminster, tiianks 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 Tobacco-Box, of an oval shape, and
portable size for the pocket; according to
tradition, he gave four-pence for it at
Horn Fair. He carried it with him to
hs parish club — to the tavern where the
" gentlemen of the parish," who, like him-
self, had served the oftice of overseer,
met to talk over and confer u])on pa-
rochial matters, and smoke their pipes in
friendly intercourse. They associated
under the denomination of the " Past
Overseers' Society," and Mr. Monck ])re-
sented his fourpenny Horn Fair Tobacco-
Box to the society, for the general use of
the members.
It is important 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 beer.
Vol. IV
785
3 E
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 2H.
overseers of ibe poor in Ihe joint parishes
abovementioned, or who have paid the
fine to be excused from serving the office,
and also of the overseers for the time
being. The average number of members
b now about forty. On the evening of
the second Thursday in every month the
society meet at the Swan tavern. Bridge-
street, Westminster, wliere ilie 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-
fmyed 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 occuirences 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 silver 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 tiile : —
" Representations 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 eiigraving at the beginning of tliis ar
tide 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.l) , the
Rev. Wm. Winfield Dakitis, D.D., the
Rev Hen. CImte, the Rev. Darcy Ilag-
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 172G.
In 1740, a broad handsome embossed
border of ornaments was placed upon the
lid, within the before-raenlioned rim; and
subsequently, the bottom was covered
with an " ornamented emblem of Charity,"
engraved very much in the style of llo-
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 nr.anner of a bust, with allego-
rical figures at the sides of the pedestal,
and an inscription commemorative of the
victory of Culloden. 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 Tobacco-Box having
thus been ornamented within and with-
out to repletion, there was no room for
further additions ; but as each senior
overseer, with few exceptions, followed
the example of his predecessors, a new
outer case was always prepared for it,
v/hen further space was required for 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 represents Monck's
box, and its four enriched cases, grouped.
786
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 28,
rnih decanter?, goblets, wine-glasses, le-
mons, and tobacco-pjpes. The old box
is filled with tobacco ; its lid, engraved
withinside by Hogarth, 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 die 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 memorabl'; 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
lleet, under Admiral Linois, 1804;
another of the Battle of Trafalgar, and
death of Nelson, 1805; 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 of
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,
1817, 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 commemo-
ration of local circumstances, relating to
the past overseers' society's parishes.
Une of them is a monumental design,
with military trophies, inscribed, " I'o
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 tht
portico fronted St. Margaret's church-
yard. There is likewise a plate repre-
senting St. John ihe Evangelist at Patmos,
with a view, below, of the tower anc^
western entrance of the church 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 ot
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
window 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
787
THE YEAR BOOK.—DECEMBER 28.
florious services rendered his country by
ield-Marslial Marquis Wellington," with
an embossed portrait of the marquis, sur-
rounded by jienii and military trophies,
and bearing the following inscription : —
«* 1813. This Plate is given to celebrate
the duration of this Box for One Hundred
Yearty by Elisha Card, 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 ofticial 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 :
" This plate, and the new case to contain
the original box atid case, were given by
Thomas Bray, and Thomas Hitchen,
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
Jifty (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 execution, 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
I>Jr. 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 iu
custody had devolved, refused to attenu
the annual meeting of the past overseers'
society in the spring of that year, when,
according to customary usage, it became
his duty to surrender his deposit, for the
purpose of its being transfened to his
successor in office. Mr. Read alleged,
as a reason for his non-attendance, that
the vestry had refused to pass his 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 reckoneii
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 thej
were plaintiffs, he successfully pleaded in
bar to the action. Foiled by this unex-
pected turn of the law, the society resolved
upon an appeal to equity. They acco-din<:-
ly filed a bill inChancery against Mr. Read,
in which tliey included Mr. 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
chancery 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
absence 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 Si. John the Evangelist, 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 the plaintiffs, that the defendants should
pay the costs of the suit in that court, and
that the defendant Read should pay iha
plaintiffs their costs at law ;" the total
amount of which was about £300. Under
this decree, the societ,v recovered their
788
THE YEAR BOOK. -DECEMBER 28.
Tobacco- Box, with costs of suit; but, by
the refractory and illegal proceedings of
Mr. Read, they had incurred extra costs,
which 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 octagon 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 mask drops upon a writhing serpent, is
evidently the portrait of the r vanquished
antagonist; the inscription ,^:^3on 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 Cha^ncellor,
inscribed in capital letters, " The Loud
Chancellor's Decree, liESTOllE 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 chairman.
The scene may be imagined from the in-
scription upon the plate, which runs thus,
" The Anniversary Meeting of the Past
Overseers' Society, with theChurchwarden
giving the Charge, previous to delivering
the Box to the succeeding Overseer." The
outer case, inclosing the box, with 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 fr'^m
one overseer to another, testify, in the
strongest manner, the solicitude of the
society for its preservation. The transfer
takes place after dinner, at the general
meeting held by the society, upon the ap-
pointment of the new overseers, when, aa
at all other meetings ot the society, the
senior churchwarlen of St. Margaret's
presides. After naving 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. Upon
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 thanks to them for their care of the
box, and the additional ornaments." H
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 chairman, with the
followmg CAarge:— -"This Box, and the
several Cases, are the property of the
Past Overseers' Society, and delivered
into your custody and care, w/jon c 3Brfj7u>»
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 nex
meeting thereof, aiter you shall go out of
oflice, 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
health to go through their office." 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
to 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 churchw-irdens. Tha
THE YEAR BOOK.-DECEMBER 29.
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. A'ove
all, it reminds the society of the unanimity
and social fueline which havehitlierto dis-
tinguished the chief agents in the admi-
nistration of the parochial concerns, and
which, in the lansuage of the society's
historiographer, " all are bound to perpe-
tuate, who enroll themselves under the
standard of the Todacco-Box."
this theatrical representation a little girl,
about six or eiglit years old, stood on a
bench, preaching extempore, as it ap-
peared, to the persons wlio tilled the
church, wit'.i all the gesticulation of a
Utile actress, probably in commemora-
tion of those words of the psalmist,
quoted by our blesied Lord — "Out of
the mouths of babes and sucklings thou
hast perfected praise." In this manner
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 t in-
sists so largely in outward show.*
Deeember 28.— Day breaks .
Snn rises . ,
— sets . .
Twilight ends ,
h. ro.
6
8 6
? 34
G
Bttmxf>tt 29.
The PnLSEPio.
After Christmas day, during the re-
mainder of December, there is a Pre-
sepio, or representation of the manger in
which our Saviour waj» laid, to be seen in
many of the churches at Rome. That of the
Ara'Cceli 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 i»ot per-
ceive the artificial light, which was so
managed as to stream in fluctuating
rays, from intervening silveiy clouds, and
shed a radiance over the lovely babe and
bending mother, who, in tlie most grace-
ful attitude, lightly holds up tlie drapery
which half conceals her sleeping infant
from the bystanders. lie lies in richly
embroidered swaddling clothes, and tiis
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 calile grazing, peasantry en-
gaged in different occupations, and other
objects, enliven tlie picturesque scenery ;
every living creature in the group, with
eyes directed towards the Presepio, falls
prostrate in adoration. In the front of
CoRNi|H Midsummer Tires.
An immemorial and peculiar custom
prevails on the sea-coast of the western
extremity of Cornwall, of kindling lai>.
bonfires on the evening of June 24 ; and
on the next day the country people, as-
sembling in great crowds, amuse them-
selves with excursions on 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, con
pounded with that of the first of May, whca
the Diuids 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 themselve? 'o tlie mercy
of the waves. If we reflect on tlie 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-
main? 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.
790
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 29.
their ancient superstitions, tliat we find a
law of Canute the great strictly prohibit-
ing all h-s subjects from paying adoration
to the sun, moon, sacred groves and
woods, hallowed hills and fountains. If,
then, this propensity to idolatry could
not be rooted out of those parts of the
kingdom exposed to tlie 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.*
IJearne, the Antiquary.
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 onlv 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, lie adds, also, * the circumstance
is noticed in the Oxford Sausage,' hut 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 Oxford tract by Dr.
T. Warton, 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.\ 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 sheep'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
silting was no less than an original tessel-
» Gems. Mag. April, 1795.
lated Roman pavement. Out of respect
to classic ground, and on recollection that
the Stunsjield 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 sacred 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. Daniel
Prince," the Oxford bookseller, of whom
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 crumbling
arch.
Who wont'st at eve to pace the long-lost bounds
Of lonesome Oseney I What malignant fiend
Thy cloyster-loving mind from ancient lore
Hath base scduc'd ! Urg'd thy apostate pen
To trench deep wounds on antiquaries sage.
And drag the venerable fathers forth.
Victims to laugliter ! Cruel as the mandate
Of mitred priests, who Baskett late enjoin'd
To throw aside the reverend letters black,
And print Fast Prayers in modern type ! At
this
Leland, and Willis, Dtigdale, Tanner, Wood,
Illustrious names ! with Camden, Atibret/f
Lloifd,
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 com«
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 moths
Tliy ledgers eat ! may chronologic spouts
Retain no cypher legible ! may crypts
Lurk undiscerned ! nor may'st thou spell the
naincs
Of saints in storied windows ! nor the dates
Of bells discover ! nor the genuine site
Of abbots' pantries ! and may Godstoue vev
Deep from thy eyes profane, her Gothiu
cbanosl
791
THE YKAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 2f).
Chong tliie Loong kee.
Most humbly beg leave lo acq a
' aint the Gentlemen trading to
this kort that the above mention
: ed chop has been long established
and is much esteemed for its Black
and young Hyson Tea but foaring
the foreigners might be cheated by tho
: se shameless persons who forged this
chop he therefore take the liberty to
pallish these fow lines for its
remark and trust.
A CHINESE TEA-MAN'S SHOP-BILL
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 vvooil,
printed in black, on thin paper, colored
yellow, and slightly sprinkled with gold
eaf. There is a border to it an inch and
a quarter wide, representing a tendril, or
sprig of the tea-plant in outline, surround"
ing the entire bill. The bill and border are
of the above form, and measure together
thirteen inches and a half, by eight and
three quarters. I\Ir. James Mitchell, of
Leicester, communicated the bill as a
specimen of Chinese-English.
792
THE YEAE BOOK.— DECEMBEE 29.
Perpetual Motion.
Dr. Eoberts, atBridport, in the course of
a lecture on Magnetism, observed, tlmt 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-shoe
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 iliat tliis motion had
continued without intermission for several
years, that there did not appear any reason
why it should not continue for ever ; and
that persons of eminent scientific attain-
ments certified that it was impossible
tJiere could beany deception. Dr. Roberts
said that this statement had incited him to
aim at constructing a similar apparatus,
but after much time and thouglit 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 riymouth. 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 buize in the
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. The
man had successfully oalmed this contriv-
ance as a ])erpctuai motion upon
" (Jhrisloplicr North" and h.is scientific
correspondents ; and carried on the de-
ception from the north of the Tweed to
the chopsof the channel wiihoutdeteciion.*
Cl!APw\CTS.
These seem to have been charms in the
form of inscriptions. There is mention,
of a proscription in Dugdale's Orig.
Jurid. " Tiiat he use ne hide, ne charme,
ne charecte." In Gower, de Confessione
Amantis, we read of oiu>, who
'* With his Carrcctc would him rnchaunt.**
In the dialogue of Dives anc' Pauper,
printed by R, Pynson, M93, among
superstitious j)ractices then in use, we
find tlie following censured : " Or use
any charmes in gadering of herbes, or
liangynge of scrowes aboute man or wo-
man or childe or beest for any seknesse,
with any Scripture or figures and Carevtes,
but if it be pater noster, ave, or the crede,
or holy wordes of the gospel, or of holy
wryt, for devocion nat for curioustie, 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 Frenciie
admirall, at the siege of Poicters, was
founde, after he was dead, to have about
his necke a purse of tafl'ata, and within
the same a piece of parchment full of
characters in Hebrew; beside many cy-
cles, semicircles, tryangles, &c., with
sundrie shorte cuttes and shieddings of
the psalmes. Deus niiserealur nostri,
&c. Angelis suis mandavit de te, &c.
Super Aspidem et Basiliscum, &:c., as
if the prophecies which properly belong
to Christe, might be wrested tothe 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, Peb. 1749,
He was struck with sucli horror on being
measured for his irons, that he soon after
expired.
" Ye three holy kings,.
" (jdspar, Melchior, IJailiiasar,
*' Pray for us, now, and ai the hour of death."
" These papers luwe touched the three
heads of the lioly kings of Cologne,
They are to preserve travellers from acci-
dents on the road, head-achs, fa!lin.cemher 29. — Day breaks . 5 59
Sun rises ..86
— sets ... 3 54
Twilight ends . (5 1
T^tttwxbtt 30.
It is proposed, preparatory to con
eluding the year, and the present work,
to-morrow, to devote to tiiis day a se-
lection from several articles contributed
by the kindness of correspondents.
The Divinikg Rod.
Ezekiel mentions divination by the rod,
or wand. Ilosea reproaches the Jews as
being infected with the like superstition :
'* My people ask counsel at their stocks,
and their staff declareih 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 Divina.
Some sorcerers do boast they have a rod,
Gathcr'd with vowes and sacrifice,
And (borne about,) will strangely nod
To hidden treasure where it lies:
Mankind is (sure) that rod divine,
Po- to tlic wealthiest (ever) they incline."
The notion still prevails in Eng-
land of the hazel's tendency to a vein of
lead ore, a searn or stratum of coal, water,
&c. In the " Livine Library, or Ilom-
iicall Meditations," l6?1, we read that
** no man can tell why forked sticks of
hazill (rather than sticks of other trees
crowing upon the very same places) are
fit to show the places where the veines of
gold and silver are. The slicke bending
iiselfe in the places, at the bollome,
where the same veines are." Lilly, in
the History of his Life and Times, men-
tions a curious experiment (which he
confesses, however, to liave lailed) to dis-
cover hidden treasure by the hazel rod.
Much has been written upon this sub-
ject of late, but the only notice that
can be further taken of it is in the follow-
ing communication.
[To Mr. Hone.]
The DivixSing Uod.
In answer to arequeston the Wrapper
of the Year Book for information upon
this subject, the following letter has 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 : —
Sir,
I perceive, in the last number of the
Year Book, that you invite authenticated
communications on the subject of the
Divining Hod ; I am tempted therefore to
send you what little I know about it, and
I do this the more readily bt;*...... ! 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
eificacy is, I believe, very generally cre-
dited in the coal and other'mining districts,
and persons who have the reputation of
being skilled in its use are had recourse
to with as inuch faith as is the " wise
viun," or " cunning tvoman," 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 in an imposture, if it be such, since,
however innocent in itself, the habit of
taki:ig ine marvellous upon trust, or ot
relying upon the supernatural in the
common affairs of life, is very weakening
and injurious to the mmd.
About five years ago, I was staying a
short lime in the country, a few miles
hence; and one fine sultry day, in July, J.
went with a friend of mine, on an excursion
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
handsome tower. We were accompan'ed
by a farmer of the neighbourhood, who
794
THE ^EAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 20
acted as our guide, and wlio proposed
faking us to a faim-house at Dundey, oc-
cupied by an acquaintance 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-
ing Rod, or, as our companion called it,
the ^^ finding sticky' and my curiosity was
much excited to witness an instance of ilj>
application. 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 means 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 on the premises.
Now amongst the many virtues ascribed
to the "finding-stick " is that of detecting
the presence of 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 off, by similar means.
I will now endeavour to describe the
rod, and the mode of 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 is supposed 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, accomp:inied by
us, and holding the stick as above, tra-
versed the court yard in whicli 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 great
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 singSlar 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 of 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) we
put a watch. He held the stick as before
over 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.
1 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 uy 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 sliould at once set him down as an im
postor, or at least as the dupe of his own
craft. Other objections will of courw
795
THE YEAR BOOlv.— DECEMBER 30.
occur to \our ingenious reaaers. My
prcscnl business ;s with facts, and I
Uiottld be glad to see from others a satis-
factory ll'.eory on tne subject.
1 a:n, Sir, yours, &c.,
Bulh. April?. 1831.
W. M.
THE CHANGE
[For the Year Book.]
Louisa, serious grown, and mild,
I knew you onoe 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 tlungs would scarce be proper now.
But ihey 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 smalV things preserve.
Cowley,
Gektli: Reader,
Our worthy compiler, Mr.
Hone, having requested "genuine par-
ticulars of any local usages, or customs,"
Liuited to the pages of the Year Book^ from
all who have it in tlieir 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 —
'jope to be able to glean something more
anon — or, to use the words of Shakspeare's
Sir Hugh Evans, " peradventure, shall
It-ll you another tale — if matters grow to
j-our liking."t
♦ Sec anic. col. 395.
t [Communications subsequently received
'rcui this kind correspondent have been
Iroaily inserted. T]ic present, in the order
of roniribution, should have prc.edcd them.
— \V. II. J
Shrove Tuesday. — At Baldcck, in Hert-
fordshire, Shrova Tuesday is long counted
of by the "juveniles," by wiiom it is
known as " Dough-nut Day," it being
usual for the " m.others " 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" ?re plenteously re-
galed. Of their wholcsomeness 1 cannot
aver, but they 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, in the metropolis,
and large towns in the country, — The
skewer was inserted as hand-hold for th
young masters and misses, their pur-
chasers. These ancient "nic-nacs, sc
familiar to many m 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 " Imle child that has well
behaved itself.**
796
THE YEAK BOOK— DECEMBER 30.
Palm 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 ifore
Easter, there termed " Fig Sunday " —
when it is also usual for them to " keep
wassel,'' 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
the 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 " prcperties " 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,
'nto which the contributions of the
ookers-on were put. Before them, on a
able, 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 of 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 exclusiraly 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 consi-
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 Every-Day Book, &c., usages are
described whence may be gathered consider-
able illustrations of " my lord and my lady."
— w. n.]
•t)7
THE YEAH BOOK.— DECEMBER 30.
past limes, with feeungs of pleasure and
delight.
Their garland was constructed of hoops
iBmsversed, decorated with flowers, rib-
oons, &c., affixed to the extremity of a
staff, by which it was borne, similar to
those at Northampton and Lynn, so fully
described in the Every-Duj/ Book, and
the Table Book. A " gay " sil'.v 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 for
the trifling meeds bestowed on their
well-merited endeavours, formed a
pleasing picture on which I cannot now
look back without regret. The money
collected in the course of the day was
apportioned to various uses. In the
afternoon 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 also refreshed. The revels invariably
ending with the well-known "Thread my
needle," or "Needle-tick," which was
played "up and down and all round"
the town, by the children in great num-
hers, 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 of 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
are now obsolete.
May 2rd, 0. S. — It is a common saying
in many parts of Bedfordshire, when^iVs
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
©n 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-soivhtg 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 teim
" Siblett Cakes." This usage, now per-
haps peculiar to Blunliam, 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 lilunham, 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 Booky the writer sincerely laments
that 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.
Goodine Day. — At Blunham, also, the
custom of poor widows " going a good-
ing," on the festival of St. Thomas, De-
cember, 21st, is still maintained, though
certainly with less spirit than of former
years within remembrance (O, temporal).
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 paste as a covering — pie fashion.
When baked, and before serving up, the
" upper crust" or "lid," was taken off by
798
THE YEAE BOOK.— DECEMBER 30.
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 garnisli ;
when, to complete the mess, a full quart
of well-spiced ale was poured in, " quite
hot, hissuig hot: think of that Master
BrooJc* — 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 shelf of the
kitchen dre«ser " for ornament, not use,''
then pointed at and highly valued as
having had the honor (!) of containing
•'Apple Florentine" at no fewer than
ihirty festivals. At the period mentioned
'n the commencement of this " brief no-
tice" of its merits, this ancient *' dainty "
was in its pristine glory, but succeeding
years saw its wonted place supplied by
something "more fashionable,'' and various
changes and alterations (not for the belter
but for the worse) have taken place since
it last
" smoaked on the Christmas board."
Its contemporary " Snap-dragon," if 1
mistake not, is still in vogue as a '^ merry
pastime," to " drive dull care away," on a
winter's evening.
Doggerell Inscription. — At a little ale-
house, at the road side, between Sutton
and Potton, in Bedfordshire, the fol-
lowing curious lines appear written over
the door : they are copied verbatim —
" Butt Beere, Solde Hear
by Timothy Dear
" Cum. tak. a. mugg. of mye. trinker. cua
trink.
Thin, a ful. kart. of myc. verry. stron. drinl»
Ilarter. that. trye. a. cann. of. mye. fitter.
cum- tatter.
And. windehup. withe, mye. siv'oty-tymei-
weaker- thin- warter."
[^Note. — John of Gaunt, by his will, gave
the manors of Sutton and Potton to the Bur-
goyne family.
" I, John of Gaunt, do give and do grant
To thee and to thine^ Sir Roger Burgoync,
Sutton and Potton, until all the world's rotten.'
Curious Altar-piece. — Most readers are
aware that the celebrated Dr. Young was
rector of Wellwyn in Hertfordshire, but
it is a circumstance less known that his
acconiplished and excellent lady designed,
and executed with her own hands, an
elegant piece of needlework to adorn the
altar of Wellwyn church. This interesting
specimen has been preserved in an ad-
mirable manner by a covering of gauze or
tiffany, and has suffered but little from
the iron hand of time. The sacred de-
claration
I AM
THE BREAD
OF LIFE,
worked in varied colors, forms the
centre, and is very beautiful. As a relic
of one whose name will " live to all time"
in the inimitable *• Night Thoughts," it is
worthy of the attention of every lover of
literature.
iB. f». ^.
SONNET.
[For the Year Book.]
On an Oak in the Parish of Chesiiunt, said to have been planted in 1066
BY Sir Theodore Godfrey, or Goffby, who came over with William tjib
Conqueror.
Gigantic time-worn Tree, what moons have fled
Since thou wert planted first by warlike hand !
Nigh twi.^e four hundred years have swept the land i
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 chieAain 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 the Champion free,
Of his proud times the ornament and grace;
A wight well worthy to recorded be
In f^airest archives of bright Chivalry.
EDWARD MOXON.
799
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30.
O1.0 Traveiuiic.
A di»crH»cr of F.ngland, early in ll«e
ff«ign of William III., speaks of it as
excelling all olher nations in the conve-
niency of coaches, but especially that of
stage coaches, which he praises for their
comniodiousness and ease, and particu-
larly for their expedition. He says:—
«* Here one njay be transported without
over-violent motion, and sheltered from
the injuries of llie air, to the 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
dbtance before stopping to dine; and on
a summer day, between sun-rise and sun-
set, a fast coach travels nearly three
times the distance.
Lcnt-Crockiko.
[To Mr. Honel
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 evenmg to j.elt the doors of
the inhabitants with pieces of broken
crockery.
In Dorsetshire, the boys sometimes go
round in small parties ; 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 hav? 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 sparkling 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: composed for the occasion,
perhaps, by some mendicant friar whosf
nzvr,Q might have been suppressed wi*'n
the monasteries by Henry VIII.
'* I be omc 11 sfarovin,
Vor a liulc pinkivk.
A bit o* bread o* your biakin.
Or a little truckle chcrsc o* ycmr own
niiakin.
If you'll gi' me a little, I'll ax no inoorc.
If you don't gi' mc nolhin, I'll rnttlc your
door."
Sometimes he gets a piece of bread and
iheese : and at some houses he is told to be
gone, when he calls up his followers to
send their missiles in a rattling bropdside
against the door.
In Wiltshire, the begging of pancake
and bread and cheese is omitted ; and tlie
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 werf
supposed to be broken ; and the cessation
of flesh-eating is understood in the beggiiio
for pancakes, and bread and cheese.
W. Barnes.
• Nc» Stale: of Englaiid, 1SR»
Finding and Losing.
Melton, in his Ajtrologaster, says
" That if a man, walking in the fields,
find any foure-leaved grasse, he shall in 3
small while after find some good thing'
The same writer tells us, "That it is
naught for a man or woman to lose 'heir
hose garter." As also, " That it i? a sigr
of ill lucke to finde money." This is
corroborated by Greene, in his Art of
Conny-catching : he tells u.*, « 'Tis ill
lucke to keepe found money." Therefore
it must be spent.
Homes, in his Dsymonologie, 1650
exclaims : " How Sequent is it with
people, especially jf the more igmjrant
sort, which maki's the things more sus-
pected, to thi'ik and say (as Master
iPerkins relates,) if ihey find some pieces
of iron, it u a prediction of good luck
to the fi'iders. If they find a piece
of silver, it is a foretoken of ill luck to
them."
Tire hon. Robert Boyle, in Reflections,
1 66 j, says : " The common people of this
country have a tradition that 'tis a lucky
thing to find a horse-shoe."
Halves.
It is a popular custom to cry ou*
"halves!" on seeing a person pick up
any thing which he has found ; this ex-
clamation entitles the exclaimer to one
half of llie value. The well-known trick
of ring-dropping is founded on this usage.*
» lirand.
800
THE YEAR BOOK— DECEMBER 30.
ANGLING-STREAM IN WINTER.
' He holds a smooth blue stone,
On whose capacious surface is outspread
Large store of gleaming crimson-spotted trouts ;
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.
That seemed to pity what he could not spare.
Wordttcorth.
Dropping into " The Excursion " I fell
upon the preceding lines, and recollected
a note or two relative to " Angling ; "
remembering at the same time that, al-
though in December the angle gives
place to the net, yet we may angle in
books all the year round.
There exists a very rare and remarkablo
•work with the following title : —
Vol, IV.
801
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 30.
w A BooKE or Akclino on rI5IU.^G.
**n'hntiH it shewed, bt/ conference wUh
* Scriptures, the agreement between the
« Fisherman, Fishes, Fisiiino of both
** natures, Temporatl and Spirit uall. By
**SAUVELGARD\iitR,DoctiyrofDivinitie.
" Mathew iv. 19. I will make you
**JUhers of men. London : Printed
«*for Thomas Purfoot, I0O6, l8mo."
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 Iknrie Spelman
Kniehts, my verie kinde friends." After
the leaf of dedication is a page " To the
Header," and on a fourth page are " The
Contents ofthisBooke\\n twoLatin verses :
"which r deliver in English, thus:
" The Church I goueme as a ihippe.
Wee, teae with world compare.
The tcriturei are the enclosing nettes.
And men the fishes are."
Then 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 t Ship or Boat :
p. 1—12.
Chap. 2. Of the waters that are for this
fishing: p. 12—23.
Chap. 3. 0/ the nets and angle-rod that are
for this fishing: p. 23—44.
Chap. 4. 0/ the fisheitnen that principally
are appointed for this office: p. 44 — 80.
Chap. 5. The especiall duties of the spiiituall
fisherman: p. 81 — 94.
Chap. 6. Of the Fisherman's haytes : p. 95 —
105
Chap. 7. Of the fishes that the spirituull
A ngler or Fisherman onely fisheth for : p. 105—
lis.
Chap. 8. The Sympathie of naures, of the
fishes of both natures : p. 119 — 146.
Chap. 9. Of the Antipathic and differences
of fishes of both sortes, and of the angling of both
kinde* : p. 147—162. FiNls.
This book may be denominated " Fish-
ing Spiritualized," in proof of which, and
as specimens of its manner, are the sub-
joined extracts.
" The hooke of PauVs angle-line strooke
Elim, as thorowe the eies, and blinded
him ; with such a one did Peter take
Ananias and Saphira, and it cost them
their liues. Cain, when the hooke first
pricked him, by striuing with it like a
tishe that striueth with a hooke, more
wounded himselfe, till at last he yeelded,
leauing his wrangling, and trembled
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. 1 name them fishermen, because
of right that name is due vnto thsm, and
it hath beene giuen them of old. As
when Jeremy saith, Behold suith the Lord
I will send out many fishers, and they shall
fish them. As when Christ sailh in the
persons of Peter and Andrew, James and
John, I will make you fishers of men. —
The spirituall fishers for rnen, 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 hatii 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 them
by their trade and say vnto tliem, are you
anglers and fishermen, and have not these
thinges ? The preacher's heart is (he
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 Israel,and knowest not these thinges.''
p. 47.
" Every Fisher-man hath his proper
baytes, 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, tlie
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 fishetli
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 meeknes will doe most, and
t03
THE YEAK BOOK.— DECEMBER 30.
loue rather than arodde 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 j^nd 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. 9.0, &c.
" The fisherman baiteth not his noo^ ,
that the fish might only take it, but be
taken of it. The red-worme, the case-
worme, maggot-fiios, small tlie, small
roche, 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
riueis 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 curbe our crooked and cruell
natures, each man's sword would be in
his fellow's bosome, and right should yeeld
to mii^ht ; and titles would bee tryed at
the pike's point: a malignant masterie
should manage matters among men, as it
doth 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 hurtfull to the soule of man to
be given vp wholly to the world. The
water suflficeth the fishes in their appetites:
but when we haue whatsoouer the world
can afford 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 tlie bread of sorrowe, la-
bouring to labour, and caring to take care :
plowing vpon the rockes, and rowling the
stone of S^siphus, 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 termeih all the delights of it Tysing
vanities. It is lehovak, onely which is
his name for euer, tnat sufficeth vs for
euer. 'J'he Rabbins doe obserue that all
the letters in that his Name, are Litera
guiescentes: from whence, they expressed
this mysticall meaning, that all creatures
haue from God their re^t. Ilee 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
restein vntill it 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 finde
agreeable correspondenciebetweene them.
VVhereas 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 follie among the Egyp-
tians" — p. 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
Where grace and loveliness have been t
Stream of my heart I I cannot tread
Thy shores so bleak, so barren now ;
They seem as though thy joys were dead j
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 : —
When I was a mere scht-ol-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 piu for hook.
803
TUE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBEll 30.
And thus cquip'd I angled
la every little brfok ;
Where prickle-back* and minnowi.
Each day I caught in store,
With itone-leachei and miller's thuml»»—
These brooks afford no more :
And then the little angler.
With crooked pin for hook.
Would shun each noisy wrangler.
To fish the murm'ring brook,
A fine copy, perhaps ihe finest in ex-
istence, of the famed first edition of
"Walton," is carefully preserved by Mr.
Cotton, in the original binding.
ANGLING SONG.
[For the Year Book.]
I would seek a blest 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 1 love :
Where the blackbird on the tree,
Piping forth its melody.
Fills the grove.
Let a limpid stream I pray
Murmur near,
That at eve sveeet Echo may
Sound of village bells convey
To mine ear.
There Fd watch the speckled trout.
Ever shy,
In the water play about,
Or perhaps leap fairly out
At a fly.
Let a steeple stand in viow,
That should be :
And the poor man's cottage too,
Twill 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 Fd 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.
TuE When ! The Wnr n !
[To Mr. aone.]
December 17, 1827.
Sir, — An aged, respectable, and du-
teously respected native of Middleton, in
Cork, has often amused and delighted me
with the " legendary lore" of that part
of Ireland. 1 have often heard her re-
late, that within her remembrance it was
a 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. Stoppint?
opposite the mansions of the gentry, one
of the party repeated these lines : —
The wren, ihe wren, the king of 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 all birds," entering with his
attendants, found the trate (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 ol" 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
804
THE YEAK BOOK. -DECEMBER 30.
etiemy, aware of their exhausted state
ai:d suspecting llie place of their retreat,
were silently bearing down upon them
witli bloody purposes and ready weapons.
Tiiey 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 wren! 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 feathered 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 upon 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.
Ths fallowing legend will substantiate my
statement :— though my grandmother is
not acquainted with it, I have heard i
both from an Irishman 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 z\r 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 eagle'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 awd pro-
claimed, with all due solemnity and
ceremonies, " king of all birds." I re-
main, most respectfully, &c. W. D. K.
The Primrose.
From '' Gnldingharns Garden Phr dedicated to Queen Elizabeth— Udnl. MS. C902.
Well may I prayse, and yette not porcyall seeme.
Where truthe (quothe he) doth boldly beare me owte,
Yf so I may, then must I beste esteme
Thys g :lant flower for vertue, out of doubte ;
My Prymrose sweet ys, lo ! a true-love rare,
As showes her leaves, so even thyrd whytt they are.
My Prymrose is the lady of tlie 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 vvorldes of new delyghtes.
805
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 31.
Laktern ako Candle-ligut.
[To Mr. Hoae.]
A* a farther illustration of the custom
mentioned at n. *-23, I transcribe an anec-
dote from "The Pleasant Conceits of
Old Hobson,1607."
•Ii; the beginning of queene Eliza-
beth's raigne.. when the hanging out Ian-
thorne and candell-light was first of all
brought up, the bedell of the warde
where Maister llobson dwelt, in a dark
evening catne crieing up and downe,
*hang out your lanthornesl hang out
your lanthornes !' using no other wordes ;
whereupon Maister llobson tooke an
emptie lantliorne, and, according to the
bedell's call, hung it out.— This flout, by
the Lord Mayor was taken in ill part,
and llobson 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 wiih a
loud voice, ' hang out your lanthornes
and candells !' Maister llobson here-
upon hung out a lanthorne and candel
unlighted, as the bedell commanded ;
whereupon he was sent again to the
Counter ; but, the next night, the bedell
being belter advised, cryed, * hang out
your lanthornes and candell-ligiit ! hang
out your lanthornes and candell-light I'
which Maister llobson at last did, to his
great commendacions : which cry of lan-
thorne 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 between;" 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
Btttmf)tt 31.
3 1st 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 shf
was nineteen years old. lie asked her
and himself in the church and he had
by her one so>i and three daughters,
whom he married in his own church. His
stipend, till within tlie 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 ei
to Grascaoad, became jem are
aCthii of tike Rgadoaw; yon whoae witte
Hoi-
thataBtUe Qtt
inred^
or
to
eftiiie
theft ttief
li09; jcfc fipve m» leaae to tell jeei.
It ia^fhn1iBidal»byti^eAe- theft tUe jwre will brns nenj VMe-
iir eithie^ theft y ae wiB tide jam, paawiril fee^htOManjof joegfartqv
iaft»W<
theft jeft
eftteii— wliei,ttnft gad of
aaweBieTcanw4inM nefereealie^j l/iJ, jetiftiathea
nefia- thei^ aft aelanl» iwre tioMO ie
I joneeaawef jeewaibtvafce.
hjaaeldJbw. TebriiS^i'l^'dkalialafieMtheUtiir
Aeft 9ee Aal he hirtie te|BeK.T
jem
naathe
t^tn x'^srr
wm
of
taiOcjhe
greaft m. jear haafcri^ and whe
Oeftjanwaibeae th^ geft the ^rtea of the citae,
hnaaclr fteth fte eaae tiheeie^wa^ kar-
fte the BMTcie «r jaereradi
apafie
THE YEAR BO JK— DECEMBER 31.
qucuirupartvte^ between you m j woi thy-
est and most open-handed patrons,
sealing you up, all four together, in
the bonJes of my love, I bestowe upon
you this first chicken of mine, hatched
out of myastronomicall braine-pan; and
becaase erery Almanacke makes as it
were a stage-play of the yeare, deriding
it into foure partes, or rather playes
the executioner with it by cutting it
into quarters : To each one of you doe
I therefore send a quarter : dimbe up
then and beholde what nest my Raven
hath builded this yeare 1309, but carry
the mindes and numhood of true pa*
trones, neither suffer anye critickes to
plucke off her feathers^ nor offer you
unto her that indignity yourselves.
And thus, because much foule weather
La toward, (if my Calender tell no Ijes,)
and that I am loath to have you staud
in a storme, I bid you faxweXL Dated
the first ides of the first month of this
first great Hatonicall and terrible
>earel609.
T. DECKEBa
[He then commences the motk itself,
at the head of which stands the usual
configuration of a naked num, sur-
rounded by the twelve signs of the
Zodiac intersecting the body at various
points, upon which be makes the fol-
lowing humorous and sarcastic re-
marks : — ]
At the beginning of every Alma-
nacke it is the fadhion to have the
body of a man drawne as yon see, and
not (Hily baited, but bitten and shot
at by wild beasts and monsters. And
this fellow, they that lye all the yere
long fyt is to say, those that deale with
Kalenders) call the 3ian of the Moon,
or the Moons-man, or tiie man to
whom the Moone is mistres. But bow
rediculous a shape doe they bestowe
upon the sillye wretch ! Hee stands as
if hee had bene some notonons male-
fector, and being stript stark naked,
to go to execution : do not these rour
dies bang about him, shew like so
many paraons, tyed to the partes of his
body with lebeb ? or rather does he
not looke (when he lyes along) like a
theefe beg'd for an anntomie in Sur-
geons Ilall, so many barbers figured
in those beastes, slashing and slicing,
and quartering and cutting him up t —
truely he does.
Bat why, in the name of the moone
and the rest of the planets, do l>oth
our Neoterical and the more Antique
astronomers publish every yeere in
print, that everie mans body dwels
thus at 12 signes ? Is man such an nsse
that hee cannot finde his ov/ne selfe
without the helpe of so manye signes ?
or were there none but ti-adesmen in
the world when Almanacks w^re first
invented t for all men know that noble-
men, gentlemen, and those of the best
and formoste rancks in any common
wealth use to dwell at no signe at all :
much labour therefore me thinks might
be saved by the printers everie yeare,
and much cost by the stationers, if
they would crosse this poore creature
out of their bookes.
For what cuckolde(nnle8se his homes
hang too much in the light of his wit)
will not swear that Aries (which signi-
fies a ram) doth governe the head 1 Is
he not thereupon in mockerie, or rather
to put him in minde of the points of
the **Baven'8 Almanacke," (cal'd a ram-
headed cuckold,) and what butcher's
wife, (nay, almost what butcher's dog,)
or what gamster that loves the Beare-
garden, but knowes that Taurus (the
bul) dominieres over the necke, yea,
and sometimes breakes the necke of
the strong-st mastiffe that sets upon
him ? Will not the least fishmonger's
boy assure you (either in Lent, or in
the open times) that Cancer, the crab,
is verie good meat for the breast, sto-
macke, and ribs t else wherefore should
our letchers buy them up so fast ? and
I pray ask any wench, if she once ar-
rive at thirteene, if Virgo (the virgin)
beare not a great stroake over the
bowels and beUye ? As for the secret
members, it may well be saide that
Scorpio (the scorpion) lias to do with
them, because many times in the yere
they are bitten, as it were, with the
stings of scorpions for their evil dooing.
And wisely aid the Moone appoint it,
(in the lower house of Heaven,) that
CTapricomus, the goat, shold governe
the knees of Gemini; for the goato
being of all beastes most leatcherous,
it is a moral that those men who run
after nothing but wenches, must (by
course of nature) be broght on their
knees. Now that (]remini (the twins)
811
THE YEAR BOOK.— DECEMBER 31.
hare a band over tbe arms and shoul-
ders eitlier of ninn or woman, everie
woman that hath had two chiMren o
husband was exceeding wroth, insist-
ing that I should come no more, and
to prevent me said, th it he and one
whom I knew, a man of Belial of the
baser sort, would be on the stairs to
throw me down and break my neck.
These tidings were brought to me, but
the strength of God being with me, I was
in no wise terrified by the report of
my adversaries, therefore without a
fearful thought I went as usual ; and
so far from there being any one on tlie
stairs, not a dog of Egypt was, in my
hearing, permitted to move his tongue
against me. This poor woman's grief
of soul and fearful lamentation having
greatly increased, I wanted to get the
Rev. Mr. Sheppard, a preacher of Lady
Huntingdon's, to visit her, on account
J
834
THE YEAR BOOK.
of his having, as I imagined, such a
vast deal more to speak of as to divini-
ty ; but God regardeth not a multitude
of words. " The kingdom of God is not
in word, but in power." My preaching
was all of the power, both in the con-
demning and saving part of it, and as
my hearer would receive nothing else,
therefore I could not prevail upon her
to have Mr. Sheppard by my recom-
mendation, so that I wholly declined
speaking to her about it, and daily,
twice or thrice a day, I repeated my
visits to her. In less than a fortnight
God graciously blessed my words by
mercifully turning away her captivity,
and visiting her soul with life and
peace. Then did her soul with mine
exceedingly rejoice in God our salva-
tion, and in a few days after this deli-
verance, witli a constant rejoicing and
triumph, she fell sweetly asleep in Je-
sus. Afterwards the voice of her hus-
band was changed towards rae, and al-
though I could not attend her funeral,
he sent me a silk hat-band and gloves.
In the salvation of this poor and needy
sinner, all the reputed deficiencies in
her preacher, his want of college tui-
tion and acquirements in the art of
speaking by scholastic rules, were no
bar to the appearance of Christ for her.
She wanted the gospel of grace, and
the power of God unto salvation, and
that the gracious Lord favoured her
with.
During my stay in Bath, my trials
multiplied, but as my aftections
abounded so my consolations also
abounded. The word of the Lord was
precious unto me in those days, and
was so quick and powerful, that
whether by a passage senttostrengthen
me before a trial, or by a pnssage for
comfort under a trial, it was efl'ectual
to the end for which it was sent. Yet
one temptation prevailed against me.
Often a sudden drowsiness so power-
fully seized me when I took up the
Scriptures, that I fell asleep, or was
ready to drop the book out of my
Iiand : also in hearing the word
preached, a like drowsiness overcame
rae, and when I stood up to resist it,
I was in fear of falling, or of speaking
some horrible words suggested to me.
Thus the adversary pursued me daily,
and as I had heard nothing of these
and the other devices of the enemy.
they worried me greatly. The glorious
salvation of my soul was always very
precious to me, but I hid such strong
walls and bulwarks thrown up around
my soul, that all my trials from that
time forward to the present, for more
than six and forty years in my appoint-
ed lot, were no more to me than the
railing curses of Shimei were to David
after he had slain the lion, and the
bear, and Goliath of Gath. Often the
word came to me as the sound of the
wind in the tops of the mulberry trees.
At one time, previous to a body of
trials, these words were very forcibly
impressed, " When thou passest
through the waters I will be with thee,
and when through the rivers they shall
not overflow thee: when thou walkest
through the fire thou shall not be
burned, neither shall the flame kindle
upon thee." My Christian reader!
the Lord is a stronghold in the day of
trouble : tribulation is our narrow
way, and therein pi'omises are obtained,
and are possessed by and contirmed to
them, who are counted for the seed
that shall serve Christ. A multitude
of professors speak of and treat
the promises of God as swine would
pearls, make a great noise over them,
and rout and tumble them about with-
out knowing their value ; and thus a
promise is treated by an unregenerate
professor of Christ. Promises to the
children of God appear very seldom,
yet they always come so admirably
suited to the case, that the well and
tried waiting soul is the most emptied
of self, and the most ready to be filled
in times of the greatest need. And
thus Christ, who is wonderful in
counsel, and excellent in working, does
all things well.
When the set time drew nigh for my
departure from Bath, I mean the time
appointed of God, all the promises of
the man whom I had served began to
take flight. I had depended on him
by trusting my own deceitful heart;
but before I departed God gave me
something more to do. On a Lord's-
day evening, while I was hearing the
word of God then preaching in Lady
Huntingdon's chapel, a sudden and
very powerful impression assured me
that my nurse, the person who had
attended rae in my soul-travail and
conversion, was then ill and confined
835
THE YEAR BOOK.
to her bed. My miud being thus
arreted, I wns fully persuaded it was
reid, therefore I went to her house aud
fouud her, aa I cx|>ecte»l, on n. sick bed.
Site expressed great joy at my coming,
aud the strong desire she had felt to
aee me before, but she had been
ashamed to send forme on Account of
her manifolil backslidings through the
entangling snare of inordinate affection
for her husband, who was a great hy-
rcrite, a lying and drunken character,
visited her continually till the day
of her death, or rather until she fell
asleep in Jesus. Her soul-travail was
of short duration, and daily slie was
favoured with a delightful walk in
Christ, and fervent love to him. Her
temporal wants were many, through
great jwverty, so that she was con-
strained to live on Christ by faith, for
daily bread for herself aud children :
and according to her faith and humble
fervent ])rayer even so it was unto hei-,
agreeably to the promise of our ever
loving and never forsaking God, who
says, "I will abundantly bless her pro-
vision, antl satisfy her poor with bread."
Shortly before I left Bath, I was
severely exercised by great darkness,
and by being without any sign or
token for good as to when and
where my future situation would be.
I made my requests daily before my
gracious God in prayer ; and the first
communication as to when and where I
was to go, was through my infant son
"William, who, scarcely able to speak
plain, one morning as soon as he came
from his bed-room, said he had been
dreaming of our going to London, and
mentioned the time when. The time
soon arrived, and then I was farther
Epoken to for my departure in a way
quite as unexpected. This was by a
powerful and irresistibly repeated
application of these two promises : —
" I will never leave thee nor fors.ike
thee ** — " All things work together for
good to them that love God, to them
who are called according to his pur-
pose." My mind was then fully im-
pressed that I must leave Bath and go
to London on that day. It was early
in the morning, aud with overflowing
joy and transport I mentioned it to
my wife, wlio made not the least re-
sistance. Mr Moody, the person
whom I served, was astonished, and
asked if I had been sent for from Lon-
don ; 1 replied, *' I have not ;" and
after reproving him for deceitful deal-
ing towards me, I concluded by asking
for "a free conveyance to London.''
He said he could not refuse it. Indeed
I was fully persuaded of it before he
replied, for when I made the request
it was with an air of godly trium])h
over him, and by tiie transporting
power of my gracious God. I then
took a final leave of him and of Bath on
that day. My leaving that city was
somewhat like the departure of Abra-
ham from Ur of tlie Ciialdees, who " went
out, not knowing whither he went."
Tiius 1 quitted Bath for London ; but
to what ])art of London I was to go,
and why on that day, I knew not. Ou
my journey, I had manifold temptations,
but I had also the light, life, love and
liberty of my gracious God thiough
the promises, speaking peace to me.
I alighted at Hyde-park corner, and
thtn a horror of great darkness fell
upon me. The adversary had gained
the advantage by temjiting me to look
b.ack at my wife and two children,
whom I had left in Bath, and by ques-
tions as to what I was come to J^ondon
for ; and where I was going? But the
Holy Ghost had inspired me to pra3'er
for his gracious counsel and direction,
and I went on walking and praying
until I came to a solicitor's office in
Bartlett's- buildings, Holborn, where
my brother was. I fully expected to
see him with a cheerful countenance
at my appearance, and that he would
greet me with a hearty welcome . it
was quite the reverse. My poor brother
gave me such a cool reception that he
frowned upon me, and spoke roughly.
This was a time of adversity, when I
was constrained to stand still and con-
sider where to go next. I suddenly
recollected, that I had written to an
old acquaintance, a gentleman in the
law, a few weeks before, to look out for
a situation for me, and as I had received
no answer I went on to him. He re-
ceived me very kindly, and expressed
much sorrow for neglecting to write to
me, adiiiug that he had applied to a
gentleman in Pudding-lane, who was
going to get a clerk that afternoon, and
therefore requested 1 would go imme-
diately. I did so, and was instantly
engaged by him. Here was a clear
836
THE YiiAR BOOK.
explanation of that seemingly strange
impression which was so much upon
me to leave Bath that very day ; for
unless I had, T should not have come
in time for the vacant situation of
which my friend had omitted to in-
form me. Earthly friends make a
poor believer in Christ highly prize
and praise him who never leaves nor
forsakes his people; "His eyes are
over the righteous, and his ears are
open to their prayers."
I took up my lodging at the Swnn
inn, Holborn-bridge, and the next
morning attended in my new situation,
and for a time all was well ; but I soon
quitted that, by theadvice of my friend,
for more salary, in the office of Mr.
Sudlow, in Monument-yard. There I
had more growth by much trilmlation
endure. Ye have heard of the patience
of Job, and have seen the end of the
Lord ; that the Lord ir very pitiful,
and of tender mercy." Should my
reader know what it is to be long empty,
and to be so favoured as to be kept
waiting in prayer night and day, until
the gracious, needful supply comes forth
from his God, he will understand my
overflowing gratitude and thankfulness.
Something of this appears now in my
own case, and having freely received,
for a sweet revival, what is containetl
in the following work, I am constrained
to freely give thereof; and that it may
be abundantly blessed of my gracious
God and Father in Christ Jesus unto
thee, is the fervent prayer of thy
willing servant in Christ,
" Wm. Hone."
[The manuscript of the deceased was
left by him unfinished, and ends here.]
POSTSCRIPT.
The preceding Narrative is priiited,
with a few verbal corrections, from my
late dear Father's handwriting ; and I
add a short preface by him, which may
be read in this place with advantage.
"PEE FACE.
" Christian Eeade?.,
"As I am not inclined to make a
long preface to the following little work,
which I humbly hope the Lonl will be
graciously pleased to bless unto thee,
I would observe, that after enduring
a state of uncommon darkness and
barrenness for nearly eighteen months,
so as not to have a jot of sj)iritual
meditation, nor one passage of_ the
Scriptures of truth brought to my
remembrance by reading of the word,
I was so far from being able to recollect
it, as to be wholly bereft of it as soon
as I read it. This trial continued until
about ten days before I began this
•work, when a passage of the word often
flowed in from James v. 11, thus :
"Behold, we count them happy which
In July last, I went, with my dear
A-ife, from our then residence in
London, to Richnioubooks,
803
Covington,lord of session, Edinburgh, 350
Counting hobnails, cutting sticks, &c., in
the Exchequer, 575
Country life and manners, 63, 60, 317,
327,470,659; fairs, 686
Courteney, Abp., his tomb, 187
Cowper, his walks at OIney, 745
earl, lord hijrh chancellor, 691
Cows, charms for, 775, 777
Cradles, 201
Cranes, 10, 679
Creation of the sun and moon, 384
Creeling, 526
Cromwell, O., petition to, and answer,
446
, Richard, compliment to, 591
Crosby Hall, prince of misrule a', 174
Crow defeats a hawk, 267 ; a mock can-
tata, 777
Crown jewels temp. Charles L sold, 428
Croydon-palace, 361
Cuckows, 258
Cudgels, 763
Cumberland, Christmas in, 746
Cunning men, 213
Cups, 18
Curiosities, unheard of, 246, 716
Curtis W., botanist, account of, 390
Custom, the oldest, 6
C n, W., lines by S. II. S. to, 499
Czartoryska, princess, 73
Daisies, 380
Dance on the Green, 659
Dancing, village, 5-13
Dai)ifer, 10
Davenant, 8
David's, St., Day, 133, 796
Days, lucky, &o., 306; names of, G91
Oecyphering, 390
Dead body, to prevent drenming of, 127
Death, preservations from, 541, 699, 728
watch, 412
Dee, Dr , his stone for consulting spirits,
780
De Foe, Daniel, account of, 253
Deckers' Raven's Almaijacke, quota-
tions froii', 809
DelaMotte,W.A.,ofSandhurst.art ,721
De la Place, M., schoolmaster, 251
Deptford, Kent, 568
Derby, earl of, died of supposed witch-
craft, 783
Desaguliers, Dr. J. T., natural phi'o-
sopher, 126
Dettingen, a soldier's exploit. 363
Devil's seat at Yarmouth, 127
Dey of Algiers assassinated, 726
Dictionary, anecdotes of Joluison's, 523
Didsbury Wakes, Lane, 479
Disenchantment of a sorcerer, 784
Distaff-spinning, 657
's St., day, 29
Diversions at court, temp. Charles II., 444
Divination, several species of, 759
Divining Rod, 794
Dobson, W., painter, account of, 455
Doctor, a drink, 67
Doddridge, judge, 639
Doggerell inscription near Potton, 799
Dogs howling, a foreboding, 126
Dole-bread on All- hallows day, 644
Don, a pointer, 625
Saltero's Museum, Cljelsea, 720
Dore, Mary, parochial witch of lieaulieu,
784
Dorking Church, Surrey, 273
Dorrington Play-Garths, Line, 492
Dorsetshire customs, 686
Dowie's Tavern, Edinburgh, 561
Dream, a, realized, 743
Dress, 60, 61 ; extravagance in, 343
in England, temp. FA'z., 46. 181;
James I., 190; Charles II., 85; W. and
Mary, 229 ; Anne, 233; George I., 355
Drumlanrig castle, 396
Drinking, 57, 84; customs in Etlinliurgh,
661 to 666; excessive, 703; laal ef-
fects of, 613
Song, 666; vessels, 18
Drunkards in Clianceiy, 613
Dublin, munificent benefactions to, 134
Duel, JeflFery Hudson's, 9; D'Urfey ani
Belle's, 124; Lord Mohun's, 678
Dumb creation, a word for the, 310
Dundas, lord president, 352
84A
GENERAL INDEX.
Dunstan, lady, relict of Sii* Jeffery, 661
DUrfey, Tom, 123
Dwarfs, 9, 33, 739
Dyer, sen. and jun,, booksellers, Exeter,
735
Eaglesham, Renfrewsliirf, PoUck'a birth-
place, 545
Ear-rings worn by men, 544
Eurs tingling, a sign, 12G
Earthquakes in Sussex, &c., 722; Rad-
norshire, 59; Syria, 476
East cheap, Human remains found near,
440
Easter, 180; Monday, 180, 181
East Hempstead, Berks, manorial cus-
tom, 661
India Company, origin of the, 614
Eclipses in 1652,255
Economy, 806
and epicurism, 99
Edgar, John, remarkable deliverance,27l
Edinburgh, king's birth-day celebration,
332; fatal rencontre, 447; lords of
Session, 350 ; Lamiters, 524 ; golf
match witli the duke of York, 724;
fuddling, 623; old taverns and their
customers, 561; drunken lawyers, 562;
old houses, 62; Queensberry house,
396 ; booths, 575 ; goldsmiths, 576 ; an
old M.P. mode of lodging his family,
ib.; old houses in the West Bow, 680;
W. Geikie, artist, 433 ; &c.
Editorship, 240
Edmund, St., king and martyr, 691
Education, early mode of, 492
Edward the confessor's arais, 50
II. murdered, 558
Egelsham, Well.*, printer and author, 342
E-g-dance at Utrecht fair, 481
flip, posset, 31
Egglesfield, founder. Queen's college,
Oxford, 343
Eight years, a remembrance of, 731
Elephant exhibition, 484
Elf-shots, 767
Elizabeth, queen, coronation, 46; visited
by a prince of misrule, 176; at Wan-
stead May games, 264; death, 181;
supposed to have been bewitched, 783;
curious portrait of, 182
queen of Bohemia, 537
■ princess of Bohemia, 539
Eistow church. Bed brds., 48S
fair, flies at, 798
Eitham, walk to, 31
Embracing, 559
Enchanters, 779
English, tiie, character of, 679
Engravings of animals, 519
Enoch, book of, 38
Ephemeron, thOj 549
Epiphany, 22
Epitaphs, 412, 458, 566, 702
Erasmus, 633
Eton Montem, accounts of, 299 to 304;
king's birth-day fete, 334; election
Saturday, 447; shrove Monday, 74;
eccentric laureate, 673
Evans, a harper, temp. Charles II., 83
Svelyii, J., his tomb and inscription, 472;
his diary preserved, 672
R., his seat in Surrey, 465
Evergreens, 114
Every-day lesson, 317
Evil speaking, 687
Eugene, prince, 226
Example, good and ill, 96
Exchange, ro}al, gates shut, 61
Exercise and recreation, 704
Exeter custom, 318; William III. stays
there on landing, 658; countess Weir,
677; manners, &c., fifty years ago, 733
Extravagance reproved, 122
Eye-itching, a sign, 126
Face-painting, 85
Facers, 566
Fairies, 763 to 768; charms against, 777
Fairy-iings, 767
Falconry of the French king, 617
Familiars, imps, &c., 781
Fandango, a Spanish dance, 418
Farthing-loaf day at Kidderminster, 373
Farthings, 536
Fico, the, 543
Fig tree, planted bv cardinal Pope, 459
FUlan's (St.) Bell, 744
Finding and losing, 800
Finiguerra's Pax, 161
Fire-engines, 500
Fish, huge, 501 ; occult virtues of, 717
Fishing spiritualized, 802
Fitzosborne, William. 10
Fitzwilliam, lord,bequest to Cambridge,78
Flagellation, 403
Flaxman's chessmen, 280, 296, &c.
Fleet marriages, 298
Flips, 31
Flitton, Bedf., poem and topographical
notes, 474
Flockhart's Mrs., tavern, Edinburgh, 563
Flowers, 380
Flying Dutchman, 479
witches, 782
Fools, 33; of the morris-dance, 425
Foote, Samuel, 48
Fobbing parsonage, Essex, 100
Fonthill abbey burnt, 95
Form and formality, 96
Fortune tellers, 780
Fountayne, rev. John, schoolmaster, 251
Fox, right hon. C. J., 591
hunting, first day of, 603
Frampton, W. T., sportsman, 305, 622
Frank, Dr. Johnson's man. 522
845
OENBHAL INDEX.
Fntnkbatn, John, maUieinatician, Nor-
wich, 645
Frauklin, Dr. Benj., one of his tricks 239
Frederic, king of Bohemia, 537, 539
Henry, prince of lialiemiu, 539
Froinart's Chronicle, 5Sl
Frost, animalculao in, 92
Frosty weather, a walk in, 53
Fuller, Will, impostor, 367
Funeral customs. 429
of an eccentric farmer, 78
Gainsborough, 347
Garden, its uses, 260
Gardenstone, lord of Session, Edinburgh,
352
Gardiner, D. D., Samuel, description of
his rare " Booke of Angling, 1606,'* 802
Gargrave, Yorks., poet and parish-clerk,
807
Garlands, 355, 602
Gassendi's adventure with a sorcerer, 784
Gay, J., at Edinburgh, 398
George I., his economy, 95; death, 355
II., his statue at Greenwich, 746
III., birth-day, 332j sayings of,
351; death, 60
IV., patronage of an old woman,
Half-holiday, a, in Kent, 567
penny, 536
Halters, collection of, 253
Halves, 800
Hamper, William, antiquary, 689
Ilampstead, private weddings at Sion
chapel, 525
road, 24
106
German masters, 178
watch-songs, 328
Ghost story, 51
Gibbon, verses written in his history, 591
Grinlin, sculptor, account of, 454
Gibson, Richard, martyr, 522
Gypsies, 740, 781 j funeral, 458
Gluttony, 155
Goat, he, at the mast-head, a charm, 777
God, 723
Goldfinch, the, to rear, 556
Golf, 724
Good Friday, 178
sense, 64 ; living, 388 ; life, 685
Goose, 574
Gracechurch street, coronation arch in,
529
Graham, George, watchmaker, 157
Grass, strewed in churches, 298
Gray's Inn, revels, 25, 164 to 176
Grenadiers, 381
Groom porter, 13, 26, 30, 279
Grotto in a London cellar, 97
Guildford, lord keeper, 189
Gwinnett, R., 237
Haarlem, 344; organ, 345
Hackney -marsh mill, for boring cannon,
154
Ilagbut, harquebnse, 515
llailes, lord of session, Edinburgh, 352
Hair, 85 ; hair-cutting puffs, 754
Hairy people, what born to, 126
Hale, sir M., his rules, 749
Handel, anecdote of, 251
Hand fasting, 525
Handsel, 477, 763
Hand -wheel spinning, 665
Hanging judge, the, 307
Harness, armour, 64
H.irrington's sir John, new- years' gift, 1 1
Harris, organ-builder, 90
Harrop, Joseph, bookseller, Manchester,
342
Harvest-home supper, &c., 633, 535, 58G,
798
Ilassel, Phebe, « a jolly old fellow," 105
Hastings, Warren, his presents to the
queen 201
Hats, 693; ladies', 85,86
Haunted houses, -780
Hawkins, sir John, 603
Hawks and hawking, 138, 267, 305, 617,
623
Hawthorn cultivation, 267
Hay-making, 586
Hazlitt, William, notice of him, and his
memoirs by his son, 551
Health in old age, 631
Hearne, Thomas, antiquary, 353, 791
Heart-breakers, 85
of Mid Lothian, fascination of the
work, 113
Helmets to funeral effigies, 457
Henry II. outwits Becket, 88; flagellated,
403
v., his cradle, 201 '
VII., his coronation processions,
637
VIII., licenses learned clerks to
see and command spirits and build
churches, 213; died, 60
Henry, prince, son of James I., 8
IV. of France, flagellated by
proxy, 404
Herba clavorum, 775
Herbert, judge, his bad advice to James
II., 378
Herculaneum, 11
Hereford morris-dance of old men, 418
Herman, .Tohn, donor to Sutton Cold-
field, 267
Hermetic science, 71
Heston, Middlesex, shrove tide, 76
Herwy, Eliz., abbess of Elstow, 489
Hickes, Dr. Geo., 592; John, ib.
Hifi^ernan, Paul, anecdote of, 432
Highworth, Oxfordshire, gipsy funeral
at, 458
846
Higli Jinks, 566
Hiud's-head inn. Ascot, 660
Historical pictures unsatisfying, 721
History of England, publislied gratis, 342
Hob or nob! 757
Hobby horse of the morris-dance, 425
Hocus-pocup, Hiccius-doctius, 739
Hogarth ornaments a tobacco box 786
llollar's View of Basing -house, 597
Hollymore, capt., his death foietold,670
Holt, sir John, lOS
Homes of England. 384
Hommecastle, Worces., treasure found
there, 430
Hone, William, his early life and con-
version, written by himself, 821
Honthorst, G., painter, his pupils, 537
Hooke, Robert, his improved watches, 157
Hooping-cough, cures for it, 127
Horace, stanza of, sung at a funeral, 270
Home, bishop, 142
Horse and lamb, Inner Temple, 67
man, advertisement, 191
diseases, charm for, 775
manship, 269
racing establis^hed, 549
fair, Stourbridge, 772
shoes, 476, 763
to make them fall oflP, 776
GENERAL INDEX.
Inchbald, Mrs., at Stourbridge fair, 770
Indecision of character, 107
Indiscretion, 755
Indolence, 96
Insects, 383, 390, 549
Invisibility, to effect, 716
Irish servant's dialogue. 111; inventory,
128; customs, 155, 156, 804
Isaiah, Book of the Ascension of, 38; mar-
tyrdom of, 3S
shoeing, to help, 775
Hour glasses in coffins, 352
Houseleek on cottages to repellightning,
776
Howard, lady Mary, 631
Howe's, lord, victory, 310
Howell, L., nonjuror, his cruel sentence,
429
Hewitt's Book of the Seasons, 130
Hucks, W., M.P., brewer to the liouse-
hold, 656
Huddleston, Father, 8, 620
Hudson, Jeffery, 8, 500
Hull festival, 201
Hunter's song, 603
Huntsmen, bewitched, 784
Huntingdon'?, earl of, nevv year's gift, 10
Husband and wife, parting epistles, 104
Hush! hush! awful sounds, 152
Hutton, William, antiquary, 657; ex-
tracts from his unpublished MSS., 558;
his visits to places in London, 7C9 to
712; 719 to 720
Huygens's improved watches, 157
Hydon Hill, Surrey, 470
Hyena, his wonderful properties, 247
Hypochondria, 607
Idleness, 31
111 May-day, a garland, 262
Illumination, for peace with France, 234
Images of persons, for bewitching them
to death, 783
Imagination, dangers of, 360
Jacklin, John, poet and shaver, Cam-
bridge, 753
Jackson, a murderer, the charm he wore,
793
James L, his cradle and chair, 201 ; how
addressed on his accession, 215; fright-
ened, 25; revels and intoxicates with
the king of Denmark, 416; his daugh-
ter Elizabeth married to the elector
palatine, 637; his death, 190
II., omens concerning, 702; his
decline and fall, 378
Jefferies, lord chanc a musical umpire,
91
, E. W., finds treasure, 430
Jennings, Sir John, admiral, 746
Jew, a, ceremonies on executing, 692
Jews' liarp, played by fools, 33
Jewel, bishop, preaches against witch-
craft, 783
Joan of Arc, honours to her kindred, 319
John, king, his palace near Toten-hal!, 24
Johnson, Dr. S., his dictionary, &c., 522
Jones, Thomas Mount, immortalized, 155
Jordan, Abr., sen. and jun., organ build-
ers, 90
Jurdane, Margery, the witch of Eye, 783
Karnes,, lord of Session, Edinburgh, 351
Keith, Rev. George, Fleet and May Fair
wedding-parson, 298
Kellerman, l\Ir„ alchemist of Lilly, Herts,
115
Kenn, bishop, 80
Kennet, White, 592
Kent, John, parish clerk of St. Albm's,
640
Kentish customs, 181, 188
Ker of Kersland, J., a spy, 404
Kern-supper, 633
Keyson church, BeJfords., fall from
steeple, 703
Killigrew, Tom, 82; made king's jester,
83
King, Cromwell's saying of the title, 446
of the fairies, 764
's evil, touching for the, 400
, Dr., physician to Charles II., un-
paid, 80
, Erasmus, coachman and lecturei',
126
, John, printseller, 221
817
GENERAL INDEX.
Kingtthorpe> NortliRmptonshire, 684
Kingttont duchess of, 502
Kippii, Dr. A., author, 685
Kirk of Scotland, general nwemb'y of,
. 609
Kissing in France and England, 643
Knives, razors, and scissors, 126
Knockers, mine-spirits, 767
Knots, 626
Knowledge and judgment, 96; and igno-
rance, 765
Knox, Dr Vicesinius, on War, 634
La Butte, Ren^, printer and litiguisf, 342
Ladder, a, to cure passing under, 127
Lady ia the straw, 407
— — in a garden, 460
'—— of excellent conversation, 617
, a, rides for a wager, 269
- and nightingale, 366
's song, 521
Day, 188
Ladies sawing, 38; riding-habits, 86
Laguerre, Louis, artist, 245
Laliontan, in France, ruined by law, 63
Lake, bishop, 75
Lamiters, the, of Edinburgh, 624
Lamb, Charles, sonnet to, 688
, Miss, "Mrs. Leicester's scliool,"
by, 114
Lambeth palace garden, Surrey, 459
Lanark Marches, riding of, a custom, 348
Ijand, dedicated to Satan, 776
Landscape-paintings, 721
Languages, character of, 500
Landlords and tenants' new years gifts, 12
Languet, rector of St. Sulpice, 48
Lantern and candle-light, 12, 806
Lanthorn, a new years' gift, 11
Largess, 634
Lark, the, to rear, 619
Lating the witches, 638
Laud, Abp., 32, 33
Laurel, repels thunder, 776
Laurence, Dr. R , Abp. of Caslie', 38
Law and lawyers, 62
notice of the profession, 625
pleasantries, 694
■ suits on New Year's day, 14
Laws, old, 727, 794
Lawyers, drunken, and their clerks, 562
Lawless-day at Exeter, 318
Lawn-sleeves, a drink, 58
Lawrence, Rev. J. L., horticulturist, 308
Layer, counsellor, his head parboiled, 524
Lectures, the first in London on experi-
mental philosophy, 126
Lee church, Kent, 602
John, overseer, light-horse volun-
teer, Ac, 787
Leeds, Yorks., great ba'.tle, 48
Leet,6.'5
Leicester oostoro, 269
Lfigh, Samuel, bookseller, 68
Lent crocking, 800
Letters, old, 103
Lewis, Mr., chess-player, and writer oi«
the game, 284
, W., great drinker, 703
41
15
Library, public, at Manchester,
Licensing books, 33
Life, mixed conditions of, 235
Light, inward, 492
Lightning, charm against, 776
Lincoln's Inn, prince of MisruU
Lincolnshire drainage, 50G
Lingo, \A hence derived, 265
Lion, a, annual sermon for deliverance
from, 678
Office, and lions in the Tower, 518
Lions and leopards, bearings in the royal
arms, 662
Literary blunders, 2i2
Little Britain, old booksellers in, 567
John, a miser of old clothes, 179
Lloyd, Roderic, prothouotary, N. Wales,
310
Loaf, censing, 22
Locks, charm to open, 776
Lofting, J., inventor of the fire-engine,
600
Logan, poet, 774
stones at Paris, 220
London, city of, royal processions through,
629; Register office in 1658, 444 ; tlie
city burnt, 517; its charter signed, 365;
old grotto in a cellar, 97 ; London-
stone, 575 ; Maubiou - house, 731 ;
swearing in of sheriffs, 575; Pinner's
hall sermon, 262 ; artist's society, 224
" dealeis at Stourbridge fair, 774
suburbs, 159, 160 ; Raine's
Charity-school, May-day wedding por-
tion, 267
Bridge, suicide there, 234
new bridge, St. Michael's church,
Crooked Lane, demolished for the ap-
proaches, 241 ; Roman remains found,
440 ; Further, see Hntton.
Londonderry, siege of, 389
Lonely funeral, 715
Longevity, 105, 362,418, 423, 743
, how attained, 93
of hawks, 137
Loose, in Kent, curious tree at, 216
Lord Mayor's -day, 668 ; a lord mayor
made a LL.D., 669 ; not compellable
to be one of the twelve company, 634
Lords, house of, first case of imprison-
ment beyond the session, 702
Love-charms, 720
Lou Boulidou, near Montpelier, 111
Louisa, princess, of Bohemia, 540
Luck of Edeu-hall, 265
Lumley, Jane, lady, 274
Luther, Martin, 107
818
GENERAL INDEX.
Mace, the, 297 ; stealing, 660
Mack-Intosh stone, Avran, 777
of Kirani, a curious book, 246
Magic tile to expel weeds, 775
Magicians, 779
Magnus, St., organ and church, 90
Maiden's portion, 266
Maidstone and church, 183, 188, 311
Malcolm III., king of Scotland, 695
Mallard-day at Oxford, 44
Malton, grare-digger, Yorks., 403
Man accused of robbing his wife, 308
Manchester College and library, 40 ;
publisher, 342
Mandrake, used in witchcraft, 784
Manesse, Rudiger von, his MS., 143, 328
Manger in churches at Christmas, 790
Manners, French and English, 642
Manors, origin of, 90
Maps of Oxford, 341
Mar, earl of, escape from prison, &c.,297
Margaret, St., and St. John's, Westmin-
ster, past overseers' society tobacco
box, 785
Marian, maid, 417, 423
Mark Lane, effigy on 1st March, l.:3
Marlborough, great duke of, 363
Marrying day, 38
Marks, witches,' 781, 782
Martilmasse day, 671
Marylebone gardens, 250
Masque, drunken, at court, 416
Mathematical problem, 447
Matrimonial oracles, 586
Mattinson, Rev. Mr., Patterdale, West-
moreland, 806
Matthews, bookseller, 58
Maunday Thursday, 157
Maurice, prince of Bohemia, 539
May and May-day verses, 258, 268, 306,
322, 366, 367
day sports, &c., 261, 278, 685, 797
Fair, marriages, 298
Maynard, judge, 690
Mead, Dr. R., his death and collectious,
106
Mel-supper, 633
Memory Garlands, 14
Men, how they become wolves, 755
Mezzotinto engraving, origin of, 153
Michaelmas- day, 574
Mickleham, Kent, account of, 472
Middleton, Ireland, custom, 804
Lane, parish officer onlwilleJ,.
431
Midsummer-day, court ceremonies, 12 ;
and eve, 686 ; fires, 436, 790
Milkmaid, a fair and happy, 266
Miller's Tomb, Highdown Hill, Sussex,
689, 696
Mills, old bookseller, 667
Milton, a letter by him on his blindness,
671
Mince pie, 708
Minnesingers, Lays of the. 1 42
Minster church, Thanet, Kent, 761
Mirage described, 450
Mitchell, William, tinklarian doctor,
Edinburgh, 681
Mock Prince and liis court, 164
Mohun, lord, killed in a duel, 678
Moles, 739
Monboddo, lord of Session, Edinburgh,
351
Money, breaking a piece of, 525 ; how
to have it always in your pocket, 127
Monument, untrue inscription erased,517
Montague, Ralph, duke of, lines on, 316
insane duchess of, 489
Montaigne's opinion of lawyers, 63 ; lis
reason for studying in old age, 94
Montem at Eton, 299-304
Moore, Francis, physician, 592
Moon, its phases, 6; how charmed for
good luck, 127; for husbands, ib.
wort, a herb, for a charm, 776
Morant, rev. P., author, 445
Moravia, extirpation of Baptists from, 537
Morley, near Leeds, history of, by ISIr.
Norrisson Scatcherd, 91; the chapel
clerk, and singers, ib.
Morris dancing, accoun'45 of, 417
Moseley, Thomas, of Walsall, 28
Mourning court, 87
Mugwort, a herb, for a charm, 775
Mulberry tree, remarkable, 461
Mumping-day, 740
Murray, Lindley, dialogue on, 400
Musical wager, 346
My little dog Bobb, 128
Nail-pairing on Sunday, 112
Nails, herb of, 775
Name, change of, 244; punning mottoes
on noble ones, ib.
National renovation, 198
Nativity, B. V. M., court ceremonies, 12
Natural beauties, 39
history, collections, 36
rustic, philosophy, 112
Nature, rejoicings of, 132; music of, 583
Neale, a speculator in building, 582
Needle and thread, Oxford custom, 343
Neville, Grey, M.P., dissenter, 252
New Potatoes ! an Irish story, 441
New Year's- day, court ceremonies, 12;
in France, 13; lawsuits, 14; gifts, 8,
10; without work, ominous, 127
Newark penny-loaf day, 151
Newcastle, siege of, 604; witches, 188;
feast of Crispin, 447
Newspaper generosity, 342 ; a particular
order for one, 102; early one, 405
New Testament, read by Collins the poet,
359
Nichols, Sutton, bis view of Vauxliall, 438
Vol. LV.
849
3 I
GENERAL INDUS.
NiebdiOD, John, Cambridge, bookseller,
341
Kight«bom people, how fortunate, 126
I time, commendation of, 679, 693
Nightingale, the, to rear, 239; haunts,
Ac, 331
No man can be good to all, 558
Noise hiibitiml, an effect of, 6S2
North Shields, philanthropist, 109
Nose-itching, a sign, 126
No6^;ays to Queen Elizabeth, 19
Notre Dame, symbols on the church of, 71
Nottingham, old travelling to Loudon,
135
. lord chancellor, 148
Novello, Vincent, composer, 78
Oak in the wall of Boxley abbey, Kent,
120; Cheshunt oak, 799
' Royal, 318
Oakham, Rutlandshire, custom, 476
Oath, Chinese, ceremony of, 693
Oc and No, lord of, 215
Old Nick, 664
Oliver, J. and P., artists, 278
John, Sussex, miller, 689, 696
Olney Bridge, Bucks., 745
Omens, 664, 702
Orchestra, performance described, 254
Organ of St. Magnus church, 90
— — at Haarlem, described, 345
builders, 90; contest at the
Temple, 91
Orphan boy's tale, 681
Otham church, Kent, 632
Ointment, witch, 782
Owen, Lewy, a clown, 770
Owl's concert and ball, 612
Oxford Nightcaps, 31, 67. 133; mallard,
44; egg feasts, 74; founder of Queen's
coll., 343; D.D. made in boots, 67;
bookseller, 341 ; old travelling to Lon-
don, 135
Oxford, Aubrey de Vere, earl of, 151
Pack-horses, 135
Paddlesworth, Kent, old chapel, 504
Page, Sir Francis, merciless judge, 307
Palace of worldly felicitie, 473
Palatine Family, 539
Pall-mall, 18
Palm Sunday, 155, 752
Palmistry, 765
Pancake bill, 74
Panel of noble names for a jury, 659
Paris, Goldsmith's May-day pageant, 262;
G ui Id of the assumption ceremony, 47 7 ;
St. Foix, 600
Parisian-English bill of performances,
691
Parish-clerk, office of, in rhyme, 80;
Parish law and parishes, 807
• priest, a good, 463
Parker, Michael, of Malton, grave-digger,
408
Parkhurst, Charles, epitaph on, 274
Parliament and usages, 377 ; publication
of debates, 405
Parrhasius, 21
Parting, and invitation to return, 560
Passage, passe dix, a game, 25
Patches, ladies' 85
Patrick's, St., day, 155
Patronage without law, 539
Pax, the, its forms and uses, 162
Peace with France in 1814, 686
Peaches, fondness of George I. for, 95
Peacocks, 247
Peers' new year's gifts, 11
Peg Tankards, account of, 241
Pelicans, 247
Penn, W., corresponds with princess
Elizabeth, 640
Penny, Anglo-Saxon, 536
loaf-day, at Newark, 151
Penshurst, 72
Pepys', Mr. Sam., and his wife's dres?, 85
Perambulations, 586
Percy, origin of the name, 605
Peridexion, a marvellous tree, 246
Periwigs, 85, 683
Perpetual motion, 793
Pett, Thomas, miser, 330
Phillips, Sir R., his Personal Tour, 115
Physicians, old, prescriptions, 106
Pickle-eating, 485
Pie, dwarf in a, 8
Pied Piper, of Hulberstadt, 686
Pied-poudre court, Stourbridge fair, 770,
772
Pierson, S., churchwarden of St. Mar-
garet's, Westminster, 787
Pigmies, 9
Pigs, sharp-sighted, 126; predilection
for, 352
Pilliwinckles, for extorting confession,782
Pinner, Middlesex, shrove-tide, 76
Pinner's hall, annual sermon, 252
Pitfour, lord of sessions, Edinburgh, 350
Pix, the, 163
Plague, the, affects wig- wearing, 87
Planets, 5
Plantagenet, Richard, son of Ricliard
IIL, 490
Plants, 22
Pleasants, Mr. T., Irish philanthropist,
134
Plough Monday, 29
inn. Lordship lane, Camberwell,
151
Poet, and the Summer, 459
Political adversaries, 375, 592
Pollok, Robert, and his birth-iilace, 645
Pondering, 96
Pont notre-dame, fall of, 628
Poor-boxes at inns, &c., 29S
850
GENERAL INDEX.
Poor man's life, a virtuous, 256
Pope, Alex., advertises he was not
whipped, 363
a drink, 58
^'orter to Charles I., 9
Porteus, captain, lianging of, 623
Portland, Kichard Weston, earl of, 156
Portrait painter, the first wlio required
advances upon sitting, 456
Portsmouth dock-yard fired, 225
Potter, John, 47
Potton, Beds, Christmas custom, 79S
Poverty, 706
Poultry, charm to preserve, 775
Powder, witch, 782
Power, desire for, 64
Preaching covered. 559
Prepossession, a, fatally realised, 670
Presepio, the, 790
Preston burgesses, 378
Pretender, the, in London, 610
Priestley, Peter, parish clerk of Wake-
field, 152
Pj imroses, 381
Prince of misrule, 13 ; at Gray's inn, 179
■ Daniel, Oxford, bookseller, 341
Private judgment in matters of faith,107
Proverbs of the weather, 150
Prynne, Will., and Laud, 33
Pudding pieing, Kent, 181
Pulver Wednesday, 77
Punchbowl and ladle at Jesus college,
Cambridge, 133
Punishment of death, 700
Punning notice, 602
Puny epistle to the kirk of Scotland, 6]
Quails, alleged origin of, 716
Quare, Daniel, watchmaker, 157
Queen of the fairies, 764
Queensberry house, and family, Edin-
burgh, 396
Raffaele, painter, 224
Rain, 222 ; monthly averages, 66
Rainsford, Mr., justice, 189
Ramsay, Allan, 398
Ratcliffe, Dr., 106
Rats, the town guard, Edinburgh, 333
Raven inn, at Hook, Hants, 225
Raven's Almanacke, curious particu-
lars, 809
Rawlinson, Dr. R., his wig, 85
Read, Mr. J., overseer, differs with his pa-
rish on quitting office, the consequences
Nich., sculptor, 406 [788
Sir W., quack doctor, 316
Reading and knowledge, 687
Records, Prynne's, 35
Reddish, Mr. comedian, his widow, and
his father, 774
Regalia, the, 711
Heinagle, Mr., his account of the Royal
Clarence Vase, 499
Religion under Cromwell and Charles II.,
83
Rembrandt's Jacob's Dream, 721
Remember! 148
Restoration-day, 318
Results of machinery, 576
Revenge and retribution, awful instances
of, 703
Reynolds, Sir J., account of, 117
Riciiard I., died, 216 j the first royal
pluralist, ib.
II., lands in Ireland, 680
III., killed, 490; his son, ib.
Riches, 518
of poverty, 140
Ring-finger, 38
in the mire, near Honiton, Devon,
677
Rising and falling in the world, 157
Robbing detected by reflection, 670
Robin redbreast, 32 ; an emblem, 207 ;
nest on board Lord Nelson's ship, 581
Robin Hood, a little geste of, 401
, King John, and Maid
Marianne, 402
Le morte de, &c., 403, 423
Rochester castle, Kent, plants, 460
lord, cuffs Killegrew, 83 ; witty
dialogue with Ciiarles II., 84
Rocker of the royal household, 201
Rogers, C, antiquary and patron of art,
454
H. criminal opposer of the law,
234
600
Rome, carnival, 25
Rosemary, 19 ; for remembrance,
Roses, 602
Rothsay castle s^eam vessel, 613
Rousseau, Sam., printer and author, 715
Royston, Herts., 59
Rue, a charm against witchcraft, 776
Rum-fustian, a drink, 31
Rupert, prince, 310; invents mezzo tin to
engraving, 153
Rural charms, 775
description, 470
Rushbearing, in Lancashire, 652; York-
shire, 653; in Norfolk, 655; various,
656
Sabbath, witches', 782
bells, 114
Sabre de bois, 643
Sacheverell, Dr. Henry and John, account
of, 338
Sadler, Mr. T., M.P., an anecdote, 253
Saddle, the fairies', 265
Sailing fish, 704
Sailors' friend, 109; wife's petition to
Cromwell, 446
St. Alban's, Herts., parish clerk, &c., 640
— Barnabas-day customs, 355
— Bartholomew, festival of, 493
851
GENERAL INDEX.
St. Catherine Cree church, Leadenhall-
•tr«et, 678
— Crispiu** feast at Newcastle, 447
— Foix, hbtorian of Paris, 600
— Jamet*s Palace, 709
— John, festival of, 493
— John baptist, beheaded, 506
— Katberine's dock, London, 377
— Martin's little summer, 672
— Paul's cathedral, music, 269
— Thomas's day customs, 793
— Ulric's festival, 395
Salis, cardinal de, 93
Salt, a morris-dance in jewels, 428
Baiter, Geu., rose from the ranks, 456
Salvington, a retired village, near Worth-
ing, 6S9
Sand-glass, court of session, Edinburgh,
352
Saracen's head, eaten by Richard I., 751
Saijant, Serjeant, account of, 456
Saw, the, 38 ; Isaiah martyred by, 38
Sawing billets, 38
Sawston hall, Cambridgeshire, 520
Saxon deities, 268, 691
Scene of happiness, 337
Schnebbelie, J., artist, 110
School, Bruce castle and Hazel wood, 66
books, early, 494
Schools, public, 251
Schrider, organ-builder, 91
Scissars, knives, razors, &c., 731
Scotland, Candlemas-box, 70; Valen-
tine's day, 100
General Assembly of the Kirk,
309
Scots' pills, 62; a union anecdote, 724
Scottish ploughing in Sussex, 656
Scott, R., old bookseller, 567
Sea-monsters, 501 ; serpents, 602
song, to ladies on land, 15
Seal's-skin, checketh lightning, 776
Seasons, divisions of, 69
Second sight, 696
Selden's cottage, Salvington, Sussex, 689
Self-interest, ** nothing like leather," 250
Sennahoi, Roger Bacon's epistle to, 214
Sepulchre at Exeter, 178
Serge-manufacturers, Exeter, 734
Serjeants at law, plead in armour, 63
Serpents dislike a certain tree, 246
knee, 10
Servant, memorial to a faithful, 191
Setters, 615
Seven Dials, 682
Seymour, queen Jane, 616
Shakspeare's chair, 73
monument, performance for,
254
works, error in reprintsof, 163
lines from, latinized, 738
Shamrock, 155
Sharp, Abraham, mathematician, 743
Shark, a rescue from, 271
She-dog, lord Karnes used the terra im-
plying, 351
Sheep-shearing, 373, 407
Shenstone, W., his death and character, 94
Sherlock, Dr. W., death of, 365
Ship, to hinder its sailing, 716
Ships, great, 149, 613
Shippeu, Will, account of, 330
Shoe-buckles, 85
Shooting, first day of, 515 ; flying, ib.
Sporting, character of a pointer, 625
Shorediche, R., juryman of the seven
bishops, 429
Shotley-bridge, Durham, German sword -
cutlers, 670
Shovel, sir Cloudesley, shipwrecked, 612
Shoulder-knots, 85
Show Jamie, an Edinburgh character, 433
Shrovetide, 73, 269, 796, 800
Shroud, a man executed in, 742
Sickness from fairies, 767
Sidney's sir Philip, chair, 72 ; his death,
73; his father's epistle to him, 598
Silver-mine, in Cheshire, 691
Sin-eaters, 429
Singer during a century, 743
Single-stick, 763
Sinkum the Cadie, Edinburgh, 351
Sitting cross-legged, 720
Sky-lark, the, to rear, 235
Slave-trade, origin of, 603; abolition, 271
Sloane, sir Hans, 36
Smith, the organ builder, 90
Smuggling, brutal, 746
Snow, verses, 66; burial of a Swiss
family, 78
Snuff-box, Robert Burns's, 315
Songs for the Nursery, 605
Somerset, duke of, and bad roads, 135
the proud 475
Son, what to do with a, 96; advice to,
685, 698
Sophia, princess, of Bohemia, 640
Sorceress, 779
Sorcery, 781
Sortes Virgiliana3, 729
South, Dr. R., 218
Spain, king of, difficult journey in Eng-
land, 135
Spanker, a race-horse, 648
Spark in the candle, a sign, 127
Spearing G., seven days in a coal-pit, 641
Speech from a tree, 122
Sphinx, the, riddle of, 214
Spinning, 667 ; by hand and machinery,
665
Jenny, its invention, 666
Spirits, petition for permission to sec,
and command them, 213
evil, charms against, 775, 779
Sporting-month, 453
Sportsmen, blind, 309
852
GENERAL INDEX.
iiurat, Dr. Thomas, bishop of Rochester,
Swords charmed, 156
674
Sympathies of Nature, 141
Spring, 131, 140
birds and insects, 203
Table clock, a curious, 122
walks, 182, 311
._,r^,.^,^o oo 101 lAn ^nA too ^aA
Taborer of the morris-dance, 425
Talbot family tomb, 273
196, 255, 269, 279, 307, 316, 320, 322
Squinters,to avert ill-luck on meeting, 127
Tallis's Litany revived, 269
Stage-coaches, deemed mischievous, 135
Tarring, near Worthing, Sussex, 690
Staines, Sir William, alderman, 669
Tasso and his sister, 360 .
Stanzas, by Harry Stowe, Van Dyk, 103
Taylor, H., North Shields, philanthropist.
Steele, Sir Richard, author, 516
109
Steeple-flying, 739
^ir Rnbrrt irrhitrrt 'iTO
Steeps, Mr., parish Law, 807
Tea, bubbles on, 127
Stephen's (St.) day, 756
chop, 792
Stevenage, Herts, farmer's fnneral, 78
Tears of Old May day, 306
Stewart, Mrs., temp, Charles II., 86, 87,
Teignmouth, Devon, fish cast ashore, 500
99
Temple-church, organ, 91
cjf. TXT Irillrfl Tf Pdinhnrfh '1'17
~»*^ KT
Stockhose Roberf Kfnn laureate 673
^i^»/^1o of niii.;efmrici TRl '7.'\9.
Stockings, wrong put on, a sign, 126
hung cross- wise, a charm, 127
Mr Tohn drowned 234
Tennis, 18
green, 85
Tenth egg, 16
Stokes, Rev. Edward, a blind clergyman,
wave, 222, 223
309
Terms, law, 62, 659
Stone charms, 777
Teutates, worship of, 435
Stones, perforated, 719 j sleeping on, ib.
Texts, origin of, 612
Storks, curious account of, 246
Thame, Oxfordshire, account of the
Storm, great, on the western coast, 693
vicarage house, 353
Story, Robert, poet, Gargrave, Yorkshire,
Thaw, in a village, 60
807
Theatres, Drury-lane, first play-bill, 207
StourbridgeFair, Cambridgeshire, 769
Stowe, old, the elder, his will, 806
Thermometer, change in the, 363
Strong, J., blind mechanic, 125
Thomas, bishop, account of, 413
Stuart, fatahty of the family, 508
Stukeley, Dr. W., antiquary, 139
TiTrfl account of 237 31^
Thoth, 436
Style, change of the, 618
Thriving and unthriving, 431
Subtilties, confectionery, 27
Thrush, the, to rear, 430
Summer wanderings, in Kent, 121
Thunder, charm against, 776
flnrirn nf 150 ^'iR
Thurlow, lord chancellor, 148
TCrGCT 379
Time, employment and division of, 96
Tindal, Rev. Nich., historian, account of,
Sun in autumn, 514, 673
445
^rise beautifully described, 256
Toads in stones, 310
beams, a token, 53
Tobacco-box of the past overseers* society
Sunday, fevers on, 306 j breaches of, 310
of St. Margaret, and St. John, West-
Superstitious beliefs, and practices, 126,
minster, 785
306
Tollett's, Mr., window, 263, 417
Surgeon, female, 624
Tom the piper, 425
Surname, 191
Tompion, Thomas, watchmaker, 157
Surrey, earl of, poet, 49
Toot-hills, and names of places in Eng*
Sussex Roads, old, 135
land derived trom them, 435
Sutton and Potton, Bedfordshire, manors
Tortoiseshell Tom cats, 364
of, 799
Toten-hall, 24
Colefield, Warw., bequest to, 267
Totness, Geo., Carew, earl of, 179
Swallows, migration of, 207 ; marvellous
Tottenham, Middlesex, 66
virtues of, 247
Toulouse, count of, flagellated, 404
\ Swarbrick, organ-builder, 91
Tower of London, 711
Swig, a drink, 83
Townley, C, 16
day at Cambridge, 133
Townsend, Aid., 66 ; H. Hare, ib.
Swindells, printer, Manchester, 42
Trades, effect of, on health and life, 629
Sword dance, 29
Tragical occurrence at Edinburgh, 397
853
OSMKRAL INDEX.
Trtntmntttion of metals, 16, 71, 95
. of men, 755
Travelling, old, 49, 134, 524, 726, 800
—...- facilitated in Holland, 486
Treasure-finding, 430; fairy treasure, 766
of the deep, 613
Trevor, Sir John, law judge, 309
Troubadours of Germany, 142
True lover's knots, 526
Tryon, Thomas, author, 490
Tuaro, Ireland, meteorological phenome-
non, 15
Tuck, friar, 424
Tuddenham wake, Norfolk, 656
Tunsnill, W., Scottish Jacobite, 375,615
Turner, organ- builder, 91
Turnpenny, John, a generous economist,
670
Turks in the household of George I., 644
Turtle feasting, 259
Twelfth-day, 22, 25 ; court ceremonies, 23
Twenty-ninth of February, mem,, 126
Tyrrell's, Ben, Oxford pies, 74
Valentine's-day, and Valentines, 98, 101
Vandermyn, portrait painter, 489
Vander Werf s chessmen, 283
Vaudyck's method of painting, 347
patronage of Dobson, 4£5
Van Eyck, painter, 22
Somer, painter, 21
Tromp, Dutch admiral, 325
Vase, Birmingham, 497
Vauxhall gardens, 434
Ven deans, 92
Ventriloquism, fatal, 543
Vernal exfasy, verses, 368
Victory, brief announcement of a, 479
Village child, a, 53
• church, described, 463
Vincent, Dr. N., his wig offends Charles
II., 86
Viner, sir Thomas, his funeral, 86
Vineyards in England, 362
Violets, 224
Virtue, active and retired, 490
Vogelweide, minnesinger, 145
Voice, human, a machine with the, 682
Under the rose, 758
Underwood, J., his singular funeral, 270
United States, equity jurisdiction of the,
613
Upcott, Mr. W., saves John Evelyn's
diary from chance of destruction, 672
Uswick, Herts., Valentine's day, 101
Utrecht fair, 481
Wade, marshal, 164
Wake, abp , corresponds with T. Brad-
bury, 533
Wakes, 479
Walker, George, defender of London-
derry, 389
Walking fast, charm for, 775
Walsall Dole, 27
Walton, admiral, 479
•'s, Isaac, Angling, first edition.
fine copy, 804
Wandering Jew, 607
Wanstead May games, 264
Wants, few real, 96
War, 234, 364, 633
sign, old British, 762
Ward, Ned, 237
Ware-Hawk, 267
Warton's, T., ludicrous account of Tom
Hearne, 791
Wartzburgh, bishop of, flagellated, 404
Watches and Watchmakers, 157
Water, to preserve fresh, lllj inhabi-
tants of, i6.
snakes' stone, 717
Watering-pot, old, 377
Watkins, John, 107
Waxwork exhibition, 483 ^
Weather prognostication, 150
Weathercocks in trees, 188
Weavers, hand-loom, 666
Wedded love, 617
Weddings, days lucky and unlucky, 301 ,
knots, 306; favors, 627; spoons, 676;
rings, 38; losing or breaking rings
ominous, 127; rosemary at, 19; bid-
dings in Wales, 318; music at, 99;
weddings at Whitsuntide, 298; private
weddings, 825; a false wedding, 151
Wellwyn, Herts., altar pieceand cloth, 799
Well fairies, 265
saying and doing, 461
Welsh surnames, 191
Whale fishing, 205; and whales, 601
Wheat- sowing cakes, 798
Whipping Toms, a custom, 269
Whirlpool, 501
White down, Devon, horses lose their
shoes, 776
witches, 780
, James, author, 310
Whitehall galleries, 86
Whitsuntide customs, 298, &c.
Whittlesea, Camb., 270
WJiittlesford Bridge, oid chapel, Camb
713
Wife, qualifications of a, 660
— — a virtuous, discreet, and loving, 528
agony of, on her husband's execu-
tion, 700
Wives, bishop Thomas's, 413
Wigs in the Bodleian Library, &c., 85, 87
Wild fowl taking, first day of 680
Wilful Livers, 87
Wilkes and No. 46—250
Will, a remarkable discovery of, 352
William I., 10
and Mary crowned, 229
Williams, Sir W., speaker, 405
854
aSNERAIi INDEX.
Wilson, Bp. T., 142
J., botanist, 414
Walter, biographer of De Foe,
253
487
of Romford, eccentric butcher,
Winchester, Arthur's round table at, 81
, Maiq. of ruiued by his
loyalty, 597
Windlesham church, Surrey, 369
Windows painted, 278 ; one in St. Mar-
garet's church, Westminster, the sub-
ject of a prosecution, 787
Winifred's St., well, 654
Winkfield church, Berks, 661
Winter, coming in of, 705 ; arrival of
birds, 679 ; celestial appearances, 730
a walk in, 88
Wit, a dangerous quality, 582
Wise men, 781
Witches and charms, 189; anecdote, 108;
witch case in 1823 at Taunton, 211 ;
witch-finding, 188 ; lating witches, 638 ;
alleged marks and mode of making
witches, their habits and practices, 781,
784
Wivilscomb, Somerset, ignorance there,
211
Wolfs eye, its alleged virtues, 717
Wolsey, cardinal, 157
Wood, Anthony, at Thame, 353
Woodlark, the, to rear, 230
Woodrove, a herb, 355
Woodville, or Wydville, family tomb,186
Worcester, St. Helen's church bells, 226
Wotton church, Kent, 472
Wren, the, Irish custom, and legend of,
804
Sir Christopher, 123
Wyndymore, Mrs., 52
Wynne family, 406
'Xamine your accounts and conduct daily.
709
Yarmouth, Plowlick Monday, 29 ; unfor-
tunate seat in the church-yard, 127 j
peg-tankard, 242
Year, the, last day of, 807
York, pancake-bill, 75 ; inscription on
drowned children, 487
cardinal, 507
Young, Dr., poet, "rector of Welwyn,
altar cloth for his church worlied by
his widow, 799
Yule-block, 555
Zeuxis, 21
Zodiacal signs, 6
Zoological Society, gardens and mena-
gerie, 518
INDEX TO THE ENGRAVINGS.
1 Adam and Eve, Hampstead Road, 24
2 Adventures in Sherwood Forest, 401
3 Alchemist, 17
4 Alder-tree, remarkable, 216
5 Alfred and his Mother — Frontispiece.
6 Angling Stream in Winter, 801
7 Arch in Gracechurch Street, 629
8 Armorial bearing, Sutton, Surrey, 277
9 Arthur's Round Table, 81
10 Banstead Church, Surrey, 276
11 Basing House, Hants., 593
12 Baynards, Surrey, 465
13 Birchington Church,Isle of Thanet,728
14 Birth-place of Robert PoUok, 545
15 Boxley, Kent, 313
16 Bruce Castle, Tottenham, 56
17 Castle, a, 89
18 Chair of Sir P. Sydney, 72
19 James VI., 20O
20 Charlton Church, Kent, 569
21 Chertsey Farthing, 536
22 Chess Play, the oldest print, 136
Queen, by Flaxman, 280
King, 280
Knight, 296
Bishop, 296
Pawn, Soldier, 297
Archer, 297
Knight's leaps : board 1,-289
2,
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34 Child, a, reading, 113
35 Children in a shower, 249
36 straying, 177
37 Chillon, dungeon of, 209
38 Chinese Chop, 792
39 Clophill Church, Beds., 392
40 Cradle of James VI., 200
41 Distaff-spinning, 657
-290
855
INDXX TO THE ENORAVINQS.
4t Domastio Dwarf, 9
43 Don, a pointer, 625
44 Dowie'a Tavern, Edinburgh, 561
46 E£Bg7, Camberwell Church, 457
46 EI«tow Church, Dedfordsliire, 488
47 Eaoutcheon at Croydon Palace, 361
48 Eton College, 673
49 Fobbing Parsonage, Essex, 600
60 Fool-dwarf, mocking, 33
61 General Assembly of the Kirk, 609
62 Golden Lion, at Haarlem, 344
63 Grotto in the City, 97
64 Hand wheel-spinning, 665
65 Hawking, 305
66 Uissl hush! — awful sounds, 152
67 Jacklin, Cambridge shaver and poet,
753
68 Kingsthorpe, Northamptonshire, 584
59 Kristau von Hamie, 328
60 Maid Marian, 417
61 Maidstone Church, 185
62 Manchester College, 40
63 Mausoleum of the Talbots, 273
64 May-pole, 264
65 Miller's Tomb, Highdown Hill, Sus-
sex, 689
66 Emblem, 696
67 Minster Church, Isle of Thanet, 761
68 Missolonghi, Byron's death-place, 737
69 Months — January, — Farmers rega-
ling, 1
70 February,— Milkmaid, 65
71 March,_Floods, 129
72 April,— The nosegay, 193
73 May,— Lovers' Walks, 257
74 June,— Sheep washing, 321
75 July, — Mowerafter labor, 39
76 August, — Reaping, 449
77 September,— Loadedcorn, 51
78 October, Swine-feeding, 68
79 November, — A storm, 641
80 D«cwnber,— Christmas, 705
Morris Dancer, 417
Fool, 424
83 New Potatoes! 441
84 Oak in Boxley Abbey Wall, 120
85 Old Chapel, Whittlesford bridge,
713
86 Palace, Eltham, Kent, 233
87 Watering-pof, 377
88 Yew tree, Windlesham, Sur-
rey, 369
89 Otham Church, Kent, 632
90 Parker, Michael, Malton, Yorkshire,
408
91 Parochial Tobacco Box, 785
92 Pax, by Finiguerra, 161
93 Framework of it, 146
94 Peg-tankard, 241
95 Phebe Hassel, Brighton, 105
96 Raven Inn, Hook, Hants., 225
97 Royal Clarence Vase, 497
98 Rush-bearing, 652
99 Sawston Hall, Cambridgeshire, 520
100 Scene of happiness, 336
101 Show Jamie, 433
102 Stourbridge Fair, Booth, 764
103 Plan, 771
104 Music, 773
105 Thame Vicarage, Oxfordshire, 353
106 Tom the Piper, 424
107 Travelling Carriage, 49
108 Vignette upon an artist's card,
721
109 Vogelweide, the minnesinger, 146
110 Use of the Divining Rod, 795
111 Utrecht Fair, 481
112 Walton-on-the-hiM,weathercock, 276
113 West Bow, Edinburgh, 680
114 Wotton Church, Kent, 472
85 G
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^"'^9,n,,
^0" 6 ms
m^^''''
OCT 14 193S
"*' ^4 ,„, ■
DEC 29 1947
1 APR i
LD 21-50m-l,'E
IJlD
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
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