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- thouber 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.